The Highlander's Lady Knight (Midsummer Knights #2) - Madeline Martin Page 0,57

like my armor back,” Gilbert demanded.

“Of course,” Isolde agreed. “In exchange for my belongings that you so considerately had packed in my time away.”

Gilbert glowered. “Very well.” He snapped at a servant and barked an order for her items to be prepared on a cart.

“His armor, please, Matilda,” Isolde said.

Matilda’s horse approached, and she let a package slide from her hands and fall at Gilbert’s feet. He gasped in offense and glared up at the maid.

“Mind where your loyalties lie, Brother.” Isolde mounted her horse.

Cormac did not immediately follow. He watched Gilbert, his fist clenched as though he wanted to throw a punch. If not more. Finally, he grimaced and climbed onto his steed as well.

Silence descended on them in a thick, suffocating blanket that stifled the air as they waited for Isolde’s belongings to be brought to them. Isolde did not waver in her resolve to speak further. She’d said all that was necessary.

However, once the cart joined them, headed by a horse and servant who would no doubt return to Easton upon completion of his task, Isolde could not resist turning to Gilbert one final time.

“I must say, you fought well at the tournament.” Isolde smoothed her skirts. “Better than you’ve ever fought before.”

With a smirk, she flicked the reins of her horse and together, along with Pip and Matilda, they turned their horses toward Scotland to their new home and a new life.

Epilogue

Five years later

Above all the sounds on the practice field, it was the clack of wood against wood that caught Cormac’s attention. He walked through the rows of men who fought against one another, swords flashing as they thrust and swept out at their opponents.

Attacks from the Ross clan had increased over the years due to the offense of the Sutherland Chieftain stealing away a Ross bride. But the Sutherland clan now consisted of strong people, healthy with an ample supply of food that no one ever ceased being grateful for, and a readiness to defend their land.

Cormac smiled as he came to the outskirts of the mock battle and caught sight of Isolde’s auburn hair, swept back in a single braid. Her belly was round and high, filled with their bairn soon to be born.

In her hand, she held a wooden sword that Cormac himself had carved. She lunged forward and gently swung the pretend weapon.

Cormac peered around the men so he could better see the object of her careful swing; their small daughter, Aila. The lass was only a wee thing, but had the skill and focus for battle like her mum. Alan stood behind both of them with Pip obediently sitting at his side.

Wee Aila blocked her mother’s blow, her green eyes focused and assessing as she jabbed her own blunt, wooden sword at Isolde. The sun glinted off her hair, the same auburn as her mother’s with silky curls at the ends.

“Very well done,” Isolde cheered. “And if I come at you from this side?” She shifted to the left and slowly arced the wooden sword toward their daughter once more.

Aila spun around, the hilt locked in hands still dimpled with youth, her small mouth pinched in concentration as she blocked her mother’s gentle swing.

Isolde clapped her hands. “You’re such a fine warrior, my love.”

The seriousness of Aila’s face blossomed into a wide smile. She looked to Pip and slapped her thigh. “Come.”

The dog leapt toward her with his tongue lolling happily from the corner of his mouth. He wagged his tail excitedly, flicking eager licks at each in turn and earning laughter from both.

Cormac approached them. “Ye two are the bonniest warriors I’ve ever seen.”

Aila squealed and ran toward him. Cormac caught her mid-run and tossed her high into the air. Her high-pitch shriek cut through the air as he caught her and set her gently to the ground. “I hope ye werena too rough on yer mum.”

Aila’s eyes went round with sincerity. “Nay, da. I wouldna hurt my brother.”

“Your brother?” Isolde put her hand on her stomach. “You’re so certain the babe is a boy?”

Aila lifted her little shoulders in a shrug. “Aye. Ye already have a daughter.”

Cormac laughed and ruffled Aila’s soft hair. She didn’t bother to fix it and left her curls rumpled around her face as she grinned up at him. Cormac turned his attention to his beautiful wife and pulled her against him. Her eyes met his, shining with love and her skin glowing with good health. He ran his hand over her belly, and