It was the happiest night of Alasdair’s life.
He looked up and thought of his father, and thought:
This is also for you, faither.
After dinner, their family and friends gradually trickled away. Some retreated to their guest chambers, others descended the steps to their carriages under a sky painted in violet dusk.
Elizabeth stood on the balcony, her fingers resting lightly on the wrought iron rail. She watched them depart, offering quiet goodbyes as wheels crunched over gravel and laughter drifted into the warm summer night.
Then, with a soft sigh, she slipped back into their chambers and shut the French doors behind her. The fire crackled low in the hearth, casting a golden hush over the room.
“Feelin’ cold?” Alasdair asked behind her, his voice low and warm.
“Not anymore,” she murmured, as he wrapped his arms around her from behind.
His lips brushed the nape of her neck, sending a shiver down her spine. His hands came to rest on her belly, which was still flat, barely noticeable, and yet, it grounded them both. The promise of what was to come.
“Sometimes,” he whispered against her skin, “I look at ye and wonder what I ever did to deserve ye. Ye walk like grace itself, and yet… ye chose me.”
Elizabeth turned in his embrace, facing him fully now. “Didn’t you say we belong to each other? That kind of thinking leaves no room for who deserves whom.”
He chuckled, but there was reverence in it. “Still, I’ll never stop thankin’ whatever gods brought ye to me.”
Her hands reached up, brushing through his hair, her fingers settling on his jaw. “Just promise me something, Alasdair.”
“Anything.”
“Don’t leave me again.”
A beat. His face sobered.
“Ye were the one who left me,” he said softly. “But aye. I understand why. I should never have let it come to that.”
“We’ve both been afraid. But I’m tired of fear,” she whispered. “I want us to stop punishing each other for the things we were too scared to say.”
“Aye,” he murmured, voice thick. “Let’s stop.”
His mouth found hers then, slow and searching, as though he were memorizing the shape of her lips all over again. When she leaned into him, he scooped her into his arms as if she weighed nothing, still kissing her as he walked them to the bed.
“Careful,” she warned with a breathless laugh.
“I ken, my love,” he said, laying her down with a gentleness that belied the strength in him.
He knelt between her legs, his large hands stroking slowly up her thighs, then pausing reverently on her belly again.
A tear slipped down Elizabeth’s cheek, not from sadness, but the sheer fullness of it all.
This man. This room. This future.
Her heart felt like it could burst.
“Alasdair?”
“I’m right here, sweetheart,” he murmured.
She lifted her hips so he could slide her nightdress over her head. Beneath it, she wore nothing.
He exhaled slowly, as if he hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath.