Epilogue

EPILOGUE

D espite the loss of Laird Findlay, Edina was enjoying her life immensely. Granted, she had been fond of him, but he was not her father. Aidan and his mother were slowly but surely beginning to come to terms with their loss as well, and as spring emerged, their sorrow, while not entirely gone, was slowly receding.

Edina had no idea what Lady Findlay endured while she was alone, of course, but it seemed that she was beginning to see some light at the end of her tunnel of grief.

When Edina thought back six months, she could see how much her life had changed and grown richer in the process. The main reason was Aidan, of course; sometimes Edina could not believe he was hers. He was everything she had ever wanted in a man; loving, kind and thoughtful, with a wonderful sense of humour. As well as that, he was extremely intelligent, and last but not least, he was almost too handsome for words and could take her to heaven every time they made love.

Now that she was the Laird's wife, Edina was in charge of many more of the household matters than she had been before she left, having taken over many of the responsibilities from Aidan's mother. To avoid confusion, they had decided to use the name Lady Edina for her, while Eleanor went by her usual title of Lady Findlay.

In the beginning, Lady Findlay had been quite distant, immersed in her grief, but as time passed she and Edina became closer.

One day when they were sitting sewing in the smallest parlour, the one closest to the bedrooms, Aidan's mother said, "You know, Edina, you are the daughter I never had."

Edina's eyes opened wide in a kind of delighted shock, and she smiled widely.

"Thank you, Milady," she breathed. "That is one of the loveliest things anyone has ever said to me."

"I say it because it is true," Eleanor reached over and put a hand on Edina's. "You might be my daughter-in-law, but I feel as if you really belong to me."

They smiled at each other again before looking up as Edina's mother came in.

"I am sorely in need of a glass of wine," Bettina said, sighing and rubbing her forehead.

"What is it, Mother?" Edina asked, concerned.

"I visited the school today," she told them. "I wanted to take some cakes to the children, but I had forgotten how much energy they have! They have been running rings around me all afternoon."

"You were warned, Mother," Edina told her, giggling. "I told you what they were like!"

"You will be laughing on the other side of your face when you have some of your own!" Bettina warned, but she was laughing.

Edina had no need to go to the village school any more, because not only were the two teachers she had employed still there, but the school had expanded. Now there was a schoolmaster too, and a few of the pupils had actually gone to boarding school in Inverness.

This was something that had been utterly unheard of before, but Edina heard that Aidan's father had started the practice, selecting the most intelligent and adept pupils. He had also had a school built especially for the expanding population of children, who had begun to attend from some of the outlying villages, and all of it was funded by a charity that he had started. Laird Findlay had been a shrewd negotiator, and had managed to collect contributions from major landholders and even nobles, and it had all been done in an astonishingly short time.

The sewing enterprise Edina had started was still going strong, and she was gratified to see many of the local girls and boys wearing the plain but hardy creations her seamstresses had made. Their clothes were beginning to sell further afield too as their fair price and good quality became recognised.

"It seems that my little enterprises are growing," she told Aidan as they made their way up to bed one night. "The schools, the seamstresses—Aidan, I am so proud of the ladies. They are all such hard workers."

"So are you," he said proudly. "You started all this, Edina. If it were not for you, none of this would have happened."

"But your father kept it going and made it bigger," Edina pointed out. "And it is still growing—don't forget him, Aidan."

"He was a good man," Aidan said sadly. "I will never forget him. I missed him when we were away, and I miss him even more now."

Edina leaned her head on his shoulder as they made their way upstairs.

"Is there anything I can do?" she asked gently.

"Just be near me," he replied. "Never leave me, Edina. I don't think I could live without you."

"I never will," she promised.

Suddenly, his mood changed.

"How can I be sure of that, Edina Findlay?" he asked, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"I think you will have to tie me up," she answered wickedly.

Aidan swept Edina off her feet and tenderly removed her clothes, all the while kissing, licking and nibbling every part of her. Then he laid her down before tying her wrists loosely to the head of the bed with silk ribbons, which they kept in a drawer in the bedside cupboard for just such occasions.

When he had taken off all his own clothes, Aidan stood naked before Edina, and her

lingering, lascivious gaze travelled down every sculpted inch of him. She feasted her eyes on him from the top of his reddish brown hair to the tips of his toes.

Aidan held her gaze while he gently parted her legs then ran his tongue through her warm, wet folds and caused her to moan with pleasure. He teased the little nub of her clitoris, then he climbed astride her and thrust his hips forward so that Edina could take him in her mouth.

She teased him with her teeth and her tongue until Aidan was almost screaming, then he pulled himself out of her mouth and thrust inside her, and it only took a moment before they climaxed together, both crying out at the same moment.

Aidan gently untied her, then Edina laid her head on his chest, and they fell asleep, their bodies tangled up in each other's.

Laird Andrew MacDougall, who had been a great friend of Aidan's father, was celebrating his sixtieth birthday with a ceilidh to which everyone who was anyone in the area of Achnabreck was invited.

Lady Findlay decided to attend, judging that it was time she cast off her black clothes and emerge into society again. Accordingly, she wore a pale grey velvet creation that was not too ostentatious, and although she did her fair share of socialising, she did not spend too much time on the dance floor.

Edina's mother watched her contentedly.

"It is time Eleanor was moving on," she said as she watched her friend chatting and laughing with another group of ladies.

Aidan was busy talking to two other Lairds, then Bettina was called away to dance by Roy, leaving Edina on her own.

Edina had no problem with this at all. She loved watching people mingle and interact with each other, their smiles, frowns, the way they subtly moved away and inched closer to each other. It was truly fascinating.

Then suddenly the last person she had ever expected to see again came to join her. Fenella Anderson looked almost bashful as she smiled at Edina, who felt obliged to smile back, even though it was the last thing she wanted to do.

"How are you, Lady Findlay?" she asked politely.

Her cheeks were flushed and she looked embarrassed.

"Well, as usual," Edina replied, but did not reciprocate by inquiring about Fenella's health.

There was an awkward silence for a moment.

"I came to apologise to you."

Edina raised startled eyes to the other woman. These words were not ones she had ever expected to hear from her.

"I was wrong," she went on, "and I treated you badly. Aidan guessed that I had intercepted your letters somehow, and I did. I burned them. I also tried to make every trace of you disappear, but now I can see how wrong I was. You and Aidan are obviously very much in love, but so am I. After you both left, your father and mine arranged a match with Aidan's cousin, Donald. We did not court for a long time, because we could hardly wait to be married.

I would not say it was love at first sight, but love came very soon after we met. So you see, by eloping, you did us all a very big favour—all four of us, and I have never been so happy. So as well as saying sorry, I want to thank you, and I hope you forgive me."

Edina looked up at the tall woman beside her. Fenella was gazing at the floor, avoiding Edina's eyes.

"Of course, I forgive you," she said gently. "Everything has worked out for the best, and we are all where we should be. There is no need for grudges or bitterness."

She took Fenella's hand and shook it. "We will never speak of it again."

"Thank you, Milady," Fenella said gratefully, then bowed, smiled and left.

Edina looked after her, feeling happy. She had always hated being at odds with anyone, and the reconciliation with Fenella had made her realise that she had been nursing a grudge against her former rival. Now she could let it go, and she was content. Life was good.

Aidan always woke up earlier than Edina, and she was very glad of that fact the next morning when she opened her eyes and a bout of nausea rose from her stomach into her mouth, almost causing her to vomit. However, she kept it in check by a tremendous effort of will until the feeling gradually went away. She sat up in bed, her heart thumping as a possibility sprang to mind.

Could this be morning sickness? Edina asked herself, and her heart leapt with hope, then she pushed the thought away firmly. No, more likely it was something I ate.

Her mother had told her all about the first signs of pregnancy, but if this was merely a digestive upset, she would be making a lot of fuss about nothing as well as getting Aidan's hopes up for no good reason.

She decided to tell no one for the moment. If she confided in her new maid she would likely tell one of the other maids, who would tell someone else, and an hour later it would be all over the castle, then the village.

There were a few other causes for feeling sick, and for the moment Edina decided to put the mere thought of a possible pregnancy out of her mind. She had missed her courses that month, but then they had always been irregular, and she had not given the matter a second thought.

However, she would not raise her hopes until she had a few other signs. Edina went to find a book on the subject of pregnancy and childbirth, which she paged through then carefully hid at the back of her wardrobe.

Aidan never suspected a thing as the days went by and Edina continued to wake up feeling nauseous. Yet since she was never actually sick, it was easy to hide. As the days went on, however, her suspicions were further aroused by the sensitivity of her nipples, the absence of her courses, and her swelling waistline.

However, it was only when she felt a strange pressure from inside her, a series of random, intermittent taps, that Edina felt confident enough to go to the local midwife.

Jessie Nairn smiled at Edina as she confirmed her suspicions.

"Aye, Milady," she said warmly. "Ye are wi' child, an' I am happy for ye."

Edina's eyes filled with joyful tears.

"Thank god!" she breathed.

As she had expected, Aidan was ecstatic, and hugged her so hard that Edina felt her ribs would break. When he realised what he was doing, he leapt backwards, obviously imagining that he would hurt the baby.

He knelt on the floor in front of her and kissed her stomach, which was slightly rounded, but nowhere near the size it would become later.

When Aidan stood up, he folded his arms gently around Edina.

"Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you, my love."

"Aidan, you were there too," she replied, smiling.

Thank you for reading my story!