A Very Highland Holiday - Kathryn Le Veque Page 0,84
Stuart climbed over her, and as the clock on the mantel chimed midnight, Stuart slid inside his love. His heart eased for the first time in a year, as Fiona’s eyes softened, and she welcomed him.
Outside snow abraded the window, and inside, Christmas glided in amidst love and newfound joy.
Gair and Padruig offered to escort Tavin and Neilan home the next morning. Broc sent them off after a hearty breakfast that Una, Donia, and Fiona managed to create between them.
“He is a wise man,” Fiona said as she and Stuart waved off the small party. The snow had ceased falling and lay in drifts under a clear blue sky. “Padruig, I mean.”
“So he claims.” Stuart sent Fiona a warm smile that trickled another frisson of desire through her.
She felt very different this morning, washed clean, and thoroughly loved. Fiona and Stuart had lain together throughout the night, drowsing at intervals before finding each other again. She’d wept in his arms, realizing anew how close she’d come to losing him. Stuart had kissed away her tears and held her with comforting strength.
“Will Gair and Padruig return, do you think?” Fiona asked.
“Probably not.” Stuart guided her inside to the warmth of the main hall, Broc behind them. “Once Gair is paid, he vanishes. On to the next mark—I mean job.”
“I heard him suggest they travel to a cove near Kilmorgan,” Broc said. “And fetch their ship. Isn’t that the seat of the Mackenzies?”
“It is,” Stuart said. “Deserted now. But I imagine the Mackenzie brothers will find their way home. They always do.”
Broc looked downcast. “I’d meant to pay you back by finding the sgian dubh. I was imagining presenting it in triumph.”
“Take Padruig’s gesture as a sign of peace between us,” Stuart said. “All is well.”
Fiona watched the two men shake hands, and impatience twinged her. “All is well? Nae so, Stuart Cameron. You’re still a wanted man.” She faced her brother. “If ye wish to pay back Stuart for ridding us of our greedy cousins, clear his name. Write to all your cronies in England and the army, and wherever else, and tell them Stuart is not to be touched. Say he was listed as a rebel by mistake. Something. Anything. I’m to marry the man—I don’t want to worry the rest of my life that soldiers will come in the night and take him away.”
Broc was already nodding as Fiona ran out of breath. “It shall be done. I dinnae want my sister married to an outlaw either.”
“Excellent. Shall we adjourn to your study so you can begin your letters?” Fiona took Broc firmly by the arm and turned him toward the stairs.
Stuart gave a shout of laughter. “Better do as she says, lad.”
“Aye.” Broc shot Stuart an ironic glance. “You see what you’re marrying?”
“I do,” Stuart said with warmth. “And I love her dearly for it. She truly is an angel of mercy.”
Stuart’s words and smile heated Fiona from head to toe. She guided her brother out, Stuart following, his laughter and his very presence the best Christmas gift she could have wished for.
Epilogue
Ten years later
Hogmanay of 1756 arrived with all its bluster. Stuart Cameron gazed about the hall of his own house, which was filled with revelers.
When he and Fiona had reached the Cameron home the day after Christmas ten years ago, it had been as deserted and silent as he’d feared. But when word went out that Stuart had returned, his retainers and household staff emerged from all corners of the glen. They’d hidden after they’d heard of Stuart’s capture and likely execution, but now reappeared to welcome home their laird and his new lady.
Ten years on, Stuart gazed across the wood-beamed ceiling at his wife, Fiona Cameron, who busily helped their oldest daughter, Alina, string garlands. A fiddler and a drummer practiced in the corner, ready to break into song. It was Hogmanay, and when the First-Footer arrived, the dancing would begin.
Alina, their first-born, looked so much like her mother, sharing her dark hair and green eyes. Likewise did their oldest son, who’d come two years later, Stuart Michael—they called him by his second name. The third son was Broc, named in honor of Fiona’s brother. He was all Cameron, a strapping lad with bright red hair and blue eyes. Innis, the youngest daughter, also a redhead, had arrived two years ago. She played with empty spools at the moment, watched over by a smitten Una, the babe excited by the celebration.