“Well, then,” Douglas gave him a level gaze, every inch the Laird of the manor. “It seems then that you came to us at the right time. We have need of a new chief guardsman. If you would wish to fill the post, it would gladden me to work with you in the defense of the fortress.”
Arabella stared at Douglas. Again, she was amazed by his maturity. Her little brother had grown up and it was time he too was wed. She smiled at him.
Beside her, she looked at Richard as he cleared his throat. “I...I would be pleased to take that role, Douglas,” he said formally. “I accept.”
Arabella smiled.
“Well!” she said. “That settles it, then. We're here for good.”
Richard smiled at her slowly.
“Yes,” he nodded. “We are indeed.”
The feast wore on that evening, and it seemed everyone in Duncliffe was excited to hold another celebration within the walls. Richard wore a kilt, the green tartan one that the former head of the guardsmen had worn, and it seemed as if the whole clan accepted him without question.
“You look every inch a Scot,” Arabella grinned, saluting him with her glass of small ale.
He blushed. “Thank you. I will take that as a compliment.”
“It is,” Arabella smiled, and kissed him. “Though I love my Englishman.”
“And I love you, too.”
They kissed.
After the feast had ended and they retired to bed, Arabella smiled sweetly as Richard led her up the steps to the room in the guest wing that had been set aside for them. A turret room, and one of her favorites in the castle, someone had taken the time and trouble to strew fragrant herbs on the fire, and tie a garland onto the drapes by the window.
“My dearest,” Richard whispered as he kissed her by the fire.
“My sweetest.”
They entwined their arms round each other and fell backwards onto the bed.
Richard leaned over and kissed her and Arabella felt her whole body melt as his lips gently parted hers, his tongue exploring in between. His hands, gentle and tender, undid the buttons on the back of her gown and she shivered as he moved to kiss her neck and breasts.
He undressed her with sweet languidness and then, as he knelt between her thighs and slowly, gently, moved in her, Arabella knew that she could not have been happier. She had followed the musician, and the music was the song of her own heart. She had finally, truly, come home.
EPILOGUE
The wind ruffled her skirt as she walked along the fortress wall. This place, high over the forest, had always been one of Arabella's favorite places to walk. She looked out over the dark green treetops and breathed the scent of mist, and rain, and damp. It was invigorating.
Especially, she thought with a smile, since she'd be spending more time indoors.
She walked slowly along the wall.
As she neared the sentry post, she stopped. Looked at the man whose posture was straight as a halberd, the green kilt wrapping his long, strong legs, shirt close over his rippling muscles.
“Richard?”
He turned and looked at her. That level gaze, so like a hawk's, lit with joy.
“My dearest,” he said, and moved to join her. She came and stood beside him and together they looked out over the silent forest.
“You wanted to tell me something?” Richard asked as they stood there, his arm round her, her hand braced before her on the thick stone of the wall. Small lichens and moss grew there, intricate and delicate over the firm endurance of the stone.
Strange, Arabella thought, musingly, that I notice such little details, such things about this mighty fortress. I must be thinking about its future very much.
“I wanted to see you,” she said, moving so that she was sheltered in the warmth of his arms.
“That's nice,” Richard whispered, and kissed her hair.
They stood together. Below them, the wind ruffled the pine trees. Arabella shivered, though it was not cold. It was a reminder that winter was almost upon them.
“Shall we go in?” he asked, as if reading her thoughts. “It's not very warm.”
“Yes,” she agreed softly. “Let's go in.”
They headed slowly along the wall together and back through the door beside the turret, heading indoors.
“That's better,” Arabella murmured, as they settled in the solar together. Douglas was out hunting, and Francine was sewing upstairs with her maids. They were alone in there together.
“It is,” Richard whispered, and kissed her hair. “I'm glad to be in here with you, my dearest.”
“And I with you, my sweetest.”
As she lay against his chest, feeling drowsy in the warmth, she stirred.
“Richard?”
“Yes?” he asked. His eyes glowed and he bent to kiss her lips. She closed her eyes and let her lips part under his. “What is it?” he asked, moving back to look down at her again.
“I have some news,” she said softly.
“Oh?” he frowned. “And what news is that, my dearest?”
“I...” she paused, blushing, knowing she couldn't keep such wondrous news to herself, but not sure how to share it. “Richard, I am carrying a babe.”
He stared at her. His eyes were huge. Utter astonishment crossed his face, and then a huge grin moved across it slowly, starting with a glow of wonder in his eyes.
“You are?” he said. “Arabella! Oh! My dearest! Such news!”
He kissed her everywhere – first lips, then nose, then eyes, and then her hair, her neck, her upper arm...
As she started to giggle, his kisses tickling her, he started to laugh, too.
“Oh, Arabella,” he said. “I am so, so happy! I couldn't be happier if I tried.”
She smiled up at him fondly. “You silly dear,” she said. “I, too, am happy. We are so blessed.”
“We are.”
Later, they discussed names. The baby would be Mirelle, after her mother, if she was a girl. If he was a boy, they decided on Francis.
“A name used by Scots and English alike,” Arabella said firmly. “Our son will have many friends.”
“Indeed he shall,” Richard nodded. “His life started with so much love, I'm sure it will surround him always.”
“Yes,” Arabella nodded. “I'm sure it shall. With so much love, there are no barriers.”
“And those that are, dissolve.”
“Yes.”
They kissed.
Outside, the sun shone pale light through the windows of the solar, bathing them in sweet golden warmth. It gilded the furniture, glowed off the table, burned like gold off the silverware, sending shattered brightness through the room. It seemed, as they kissed, as truly as if and all edges and borders had dissolved, leaving only light.
Join My VIP Readers’ Club List
Who Else Wants to Get Freebies, New Cover Reveals, Short Flash Fictions, Characters’ Interviews and much more…
Emilia Ferguson invites you to join her VIP Readers’ Club List. When you signed up, you will get a surprise gift from her. CLICK HERE TO JOIN NOW!
ALSO BY EMILIA FERGUSON
Lairds of Dunkeld Series
Book 1 Link -> Heart Of A Highlander
Book 2 Link -> The Highlander’s Challenge
Book 3 Link -> The Highland Hero
Book 4 Link - > The Cursed Highlander
Book 5 Link - > The Highlander’s Dilemma
Book 6 Link -> The Highlander’s Awakening
Book 7 Link -> The Highland Secret Agent
Book 8 Link -> A Highlander’s Terror
Book 9 Link -> Soul Of A Highlander
Book 10 Link -> Courage Of A Highlander
Blood of Duncliffe Series
Book 1 Link -> The Highlander’s Trust
.
Acknowledgement
Thank you for taking your time and energy to read “The Highlander’s Trust”. Without your continuous support, I would not have written this book.
Wherever you are
, I appreciate you from the bottom of my heart. I also want to thank my wonderful Facebook fans, my advance copy reviewers and beta readers in advance for making this series a success.
~ Emilia
If You Have Enjoyed This Book…
…. We would really, really appreciate it if you would help us tell other readers how much you have enjoyed this book by leaving us a review. To us, reviews are like little gold pieces and they help persuade other readers to give the novels a chance. More readers will encourage our authors to write more quality novels, and that means we will continue to produce highly-entertaining stories. Please give your unbiased reviews by CLICKING HERE.
Publisher’s Notes
Copyright © 2017, 2018 by EMILIA FERGUSON
This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to real or dead people, places, or events are not intentional and are the result of coincidence. The characters, places, and events are the product of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the author/publisher. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
The Highlander’s Trust_Blood of Duncliffe Series_A Medieval Scottish Romance Story Page 20
