Page 37 of Her Highland Destiny

Cassandra’s eyes went wide, having experienced the same realization as he. Her skin held a sickly pallor and her brow glistened with an unhealthy sheen. “Fergus…” She put her hand to her flat stomach that would not remain so for long.

He nodded, hearing her thoughts before she could get them through the emotion clogging her words.

“I do have a son.” He stroked her face. “And a wife.” He grinned. “If ye’ll have me.”

Tears shone bright in Cassandra’s eyes. “Nothing would bring me greater joy.”

“Nor I,” he said. “Save seeing ye safe.” He hefted her feet from beneath her and cradled her to his chest as though she weighed nothing, for surely to Fergus the Undefeated she did not.

She relaxed into the embrace of his arms, the glow of contentment spreading between them both from their own joy and through the elation of the other. “I happen to be acquainted with one of the best healers in all of Scotland,” she said with a smile.

Fergus grinned. “Then mayhap we should go see her.”

Cassandra nodded. “Indeed we should.”

They slipped discreetly and unseen from Edinburgh, and ventured to Inverness on sunlit paths until they were once more met with happiness and love and the quiet joy of Blair.

Epilogue

June 1109

Giggles erupted from the other side of the garden wall. Cassandra turned to Blair and the two of them shared a smile.

“I believe I hear the sound of a wee lad on his way to see his Ma.” Blair lifted the basket of freshly snipped herbs to her side.

“And his Grandmama,” Cassandra said with a wink.

“Ach, aye, from time to time he’s glad to see me as well.” Blair’s eyes sparkled as she said it.

Though it was hardly from ‘time to time’ for little Niven when it came to his eldmother. Fergus rounded the corner to the garden with the toddler on his back. The boy squealed with delight and put his dimpled hands over Fergus’ eyes in his excitement.

“I canna see,” Fergus cried with great theatrics, which only served to send Niven into greater fits of giggles.

Fergus plucked the boy from his shoulders with both hands and gently set him upon the ground. Niven toddled over the uneven ground to Cassandra and Blair with his clumsy gait, and caught his fists into the skirts of both. “Are you tired, my little love?” Cassandra asked, hefting his scant weight into her arms.

He rubbed at his eyes and shook his head. His lower lip thrust outward in a miserable pout and he met her gaze with the dark, soulful stare he’d inherited from his father. He shifted in Cassandra’s arms and the weight of his head settled against the crook of her neck. The gentle blend of rosemary and lavender and little boy sweat rose from his silky dark hair.

Cassandra drew a deep breath of her son and her heart swelled with all the joy he brought to her life. She brushed her lips over his silky hair in a cherished kiss. He pushed her away moodily.

“Are ye sure ye’re no’ tired?” Blair walked her fingers up Niven’s soft arm to the crook of his delicate neck.

He scrunched his shoulder to his ear and shoved at her.

“Not in need of a nap, indeed,” Cassandra said slyly.

Blair laughed in her good-natured way. “I had a lad once who was far more a beast than my wee little Niven. Have ye heard that story?”

Niven shifted his head under Cassandra’s chin to regard his eldmother. Fergus met Cassandra’s eye and together they grinned, already knowing where this was going.

Niven shook his head against Cassandra’s neck.

“Ach, it’s a fine story.” Blair held out her hands and the little boy pulled away from his mother with arms outstretched toward his eldmother.

“I loved the demons out of him.” She pulled him into her arms and winked at Cassandra, knowing there was a need for privacy between her and Fergus. Especially this day of all days.

“I hugged it out of him.” Blair strode away with the boy in her arms and squeezed him a playfully large, rocking embrace. “I kissed it out of him.” The pucker of a dozen kisses led them from the garden to where they could no longer be heard.

Fergus regarded Cassandra from the corner of his eye. “Ye have something to tell me.” He concentrated a moment longer. “And ye’re blocking it from me.” He untucked Niven’s small wooden sword from his arm and propped it against the backside of the bench. The pretend weapon had been a gift from Phillip on his last visit to see them. He’d brought gifts for them all, including apples from the orchard, and news of home.