Epilogue

EPILOGUE

T he first light of dawn seeped through the heavy drapes, casting a soft glow on the tangled sheets where Erin and Magnus lay wrapped up in each other's arms. Erin woke early as always, enjoying a moment to watch her husband completely at peace. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm against her side, his breath warm on her neck. She could scarcely believe that she, a woman who had been taught to guard her heart fiercely, found such serenity in the embrace of a man once thought to be more beast than human.

Erin shifted gently, careful not to rouse him just yet. Today was their day. A rare day out together, free from the weight of clan politics and the haunting shadows of the past. Magnus had been working so hard since the Archer incident. She turned her head slightly, catching sight of the curve of his jaw, the faint scars that hinted at battles fought and won. His features were softened by sleep, and she allowed herself a moment to study him, to trace the lines of his face with her eyes as if committing him to memory.

"Are ye admiring yer handiwork, lass?" Magnus's voice, low and husky with sleep, broke the silence. His eyes remained closed, but a hint of a smile played on his lips.

"Perhaps," Erin replied, her own smile betraying her excitement for the day ahead. "Or maybe I'm wondering how I ended up sharing a bed with the most stubborn man in all of Scotland."

"Ye know well it takes a strong woman to endure such a man," he teased, eyes finally opening to meet hers with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine.

They rose, the cool air of the room nipping at their skin as they dressed for the day. Erin chose a simple gown, one that wouldn't hinder their explorations, while Magnus donned his plaid, the tartan a stark reminder of his role as Laird McCormack. Yet today, he was simply Magnus, and she was simply his wife.

Together, they descended the stairs, the familiar scent of peat smoke and fresh bread filling the air. The great hall was empty save for Scarlett and one other figure slumped over the table, his copper hair unmistakable even in the dim light.

"Scarlett," Magnus said, addressing his sister with a nod towards the sleeping form of their brother, "why is Hayden taking his rest at the breakfast table?"

"Och, he claims he's 'holdin' the fort' so the two of ye can have yer day out." Scarlett's sharp tongue held a note of affection as she poured ale into a cup. "Ye ken, he still needs rest, though he insists he is quite well."

"Holdin' the fort? Is that so?" Magnus's eyes softened as he looked upon his brother. Despite the years of tension, the bond of family was unbreakable. "He's a good lad, but he still needs to recover."

"Indeed he is, but ye are good to give him responsibilities," Erin agreed, her heart warming at the sight of the brothers—one asleep, the other standing as her protector and partner. They were men shaped by the cruelties of their father, yet each bore the scars differently. Hayden with charm and a roguish smile, Magnus with a stoic resolve that only she seemed able to melt.

Scarlett stood arms akimbo, her fiery hair a stark contrast to the cool stone walls of the keep. Her eyes narrowed playfully at her brother's antics. "Ye always were a tease, brother. Mark me words, Hayden will outshine us all, the best man-at-arms—and brother—a laird could hope for."

Magnus's fingertips brushed the rough surface of the oatcake, a grin playing on his lips as he pocketed the morsel. He glanced at Hayden's slumbering form, his chest rising and falling in the muted light. His brother had taken up residence at the table like a steadfast sentinel, and Magnus would not be the one to rouse him. "Aye. Let him sleep," Magnus decided, his voice carrying the quiet command of a laird. "We'll take our meal on the road."

"Whatever ye say, me lord," Scarlett replied, though the twinkle in her eye betrayed her true feelings. "Just daenae forget yer way home. This castle needs its laird and lady."

"Watch yer tongue, lass, or ye'll find yerself an old maid," Magnus chuckled. Erin loved the carefree way the three siblings teased each other now Magnus had allowed them in.

"Och, enough of yer gloom," Scarlett chided, turning to Erin with a conspiratorial wink. "And ye, lass, ye best be about makin' a wee bairn. It's time someone relieved Hayden of heir duties before he weds himself to that table. I need a nephew to play with."

Heat crept into Erin's cheeks, the blush as crimson as the dawn's early light. She cast a furtive glance at Magnus, whose gaze held hers with an intensity that spoke of unspoken promises and shared secrets. "Aye, the matter is in hand," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, betraying none of the anticipation that fluttered in her chest like a captured bird.

"Good." Scarlett's smile was knowing, her gaze flickering between the two. "Now off with ye both before I change me mind and send Hayden after ye."

With a final glance at Hayden, Erin followed Magnus outside, where the promise of adventure awaited them. Hayden had taken a slow but steady road to recovery, but he couldn't use it as an excuse forever to hide the fact he wasn't a morning person.

Erin felt Magnus's hand at the small of her back, guiding her towards the door with a certainty that made her heart beat faster. As they stepped through the threshold, the cool Highland air nipped at her skin, and Erin could only hope that the day ahead would be kinder than the past that haunted them both. Magnus's hand was firm on the reins as he led Erin to the open carriage, the sturdy wheels ready to roll across the rugged terrain. The morning mist clung to the moors like a lover's whisper, but it did little to dampen Erin's spirits. They climbed up front, side by side, their knees brushing in the intimate space.

"Ready?" Magnus asked, his voice low and gruff.

"Always," Erin replied, her heart thrumming with excitement for the day ahead.

As the carriage lurched forward, the keep receded into the background, its stone walls holding centuries of strife and triumph. They headed towards the newly mended bridge, evidence of Magnus's dedication to his lands and people. Erin sat tall beside him, her blue eyes sparkling with apprehension and thrill. She caught the sight of farmer's children chasing alongside the path, their laughter carried on the wind, and she waved, her smile genuine and wide.

"Ye seem at ease," Magnus noted, his eyes on the road but his attention keenly on her.

"Today, I am," Erin conceded, allowing herself this moment of peace.

"Good," he said, smiling at her like she were the center of his world.

The carriage rumbled over the new bridge, the sound of rushing water below filling the silence between them. As they continued, the landscape opened to reveal the little bay where the shallow water mirrored the sky. It was here that Erin had taken her first unwitting swim in an attempt to capture the Laird's attention.

"Remember yer first dip here?" Magnus's question held a hint of playful challenge.

Erin scoffed, her cheeks warming at the memory. "Aye, as if I could forget. But lest ye think it an accident, know it was deliberate—to make ye jealous."

"Is that so?" He turned to her, his brown eyes alight with mischief. "And would ye do it again?"

"Perhaps," she teased, her gaze holding his, laden with promise. "If the right Laird asked me."

The banter set her heart racing, and she reveled in the tension that always simmered between them, like peat smoke over a fire. Inside, she wondered if Magnus sensed the same wild drumbeat that urged her closer to him. With every passing moment, Erin found herself more entangled in the web of their marriage—a marriage born of necessity but growing into something far more potent.

With a deft hand, Erin unfastened the clasp of her cloak and let it fall to the grass beside the carriage. The morning sun, still gentle in its ascent, cast long shadows over the heath that shrouded their secluded haven. She watched as Magnus, with a grace that belied his size, shrugged off his own heavy plaid. Garments dropped like leaves in autumn, until they both stood as bare as the day they were born, save for modesty's sake.

"Ye sure ye can handle the chill, lass?" Magnus's voice held a low rumble of amusement as he eyed the crystalline waters before them.

"Och, I was forged in the highlands," Erin retorted, her eyes sparkling with mirth. "It is ye who should be wary of a wee bit cold water."

Without another word, she stepped into the water, gasping as the icy caress enveloped her legs, creeping higher till it kissed her skin with a thousand frigid lips. Magnus followed suit, his body cutting through the water with the assuredness of a man who had conquered much more than mere lakes.

They swam alongside each other, the only sounds being the sloshing of water and their labored breaths. Closing her eyes for a fleeting moment, she allowed herself to feel completely free—untethered from the expectations of her new life as Lady McCormack.

"Erin!" Magnus's voice jolted her back, gruff yet tinged with concern. "Daenae drift away on me now."

"Never," she said, her teeth chattering as she offered him a smile that was as much a challenge as it was an assurance. They continued their aquatic dance until the cold, drove them ashore.

Magnus emerged first, droplets cascading down his scarred torso.. He reached for the large plaid he'd brought and wrapped it around Erin's shoulders, drawing her into the warmth of his chest. Together, they sank onto the soft earth, the highland breeze whispering secrets through the heather around them.

"Ye're shivering," he murmured, his breath hot against her ear.

"Am I?" She leaned into him, seeking his heat, marveling at how natural it felt to seek solace in the arms of the man who was once her rival.

"Ye ken, we could warm up faster..." Magnus's suggestion hung between them, laden with intent.

"Is that so?" Erin turned within his arms, her blue eyes locking onto his. "And what would yer plan be, me laird?"

"Ye'll just have to trust me." His fingers traced the outline of her jaw, sending sparks of desire down her spine.

She nodded, waiting for his next move, her body and heart precariously perched on the precipice of passion.

Magnus's eyes darkened, and he pulled her closer, their lips a breath apart. Magnus's touch ignited a fire within Erin that even the chill of the Scottish waters could not quell. She was a bundle of nerves and need, wrapped tightly in the large plaid that seemed to be the only barrier between her and the raw elements of the Highlands. She dipped down between his legs, planting kisses along the length of his member.

"Does this please ye, me laird?" Erin teased, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief and mirth. It was a rare moment of power, where she held the stoic, guarded Magnus at her mercy.

"More than ye ken," he grunted, the restraint in his voice threadbare as silk worn by time.

She took him into her mouth, making soft moans as she bobbed up and down his length.

Magnus, ever the warrior, was not content to be a passive participant in their dance of desire. His hand slipped between Erin's legs, finding the secret bloom of her womanhood. His fingers delved into her folds, and she gasped, her body arching toward his touch. The sensation was overwhelming, a current that ebbed and flowed, pulling her under into the depths of passion.

"Och, Magnus," she breathed, her independent spirit willingly tethered to the sensations he elicited from her very core. A slow burn began to build within her, threatening to consume her whole.

"Ye are mine, Erin," he declared with a possessive intensity that echoed through the glen, as age-old as the hills surrounding them.

"Yers," she confirmed, her voice a mix of surrender and challenge as she lost herself to the waves of pleasure his fingers conjured.

Their union was elemental, a force as raw and untamed as the land itself. Magnus hovered above her, his brown eyes locking with Erin's as he aligned himself with the heat of her body. The world outside their secluded bay vanished as he pushed inside her, a single fluid motion that drew a gasp from them both. The chill of the water they'd left behind gave way to the fire building between them, each thrust fanning the flames higher.

"Are ye good, lass?" Magnus's voice was rough, the Scottish brogue thickening with his mounting passion.

Erin could only nod, her independent nature melting into the shared rhythm of their bodies. She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders as he moved within her, feeling every thrust

"Ah, Erin," he groaned, his pace increasing, his control slipping.

"Keep going, Magnus," she urged, her voice a blend of encouragement and desperation. She matched him, move for move, lost in the intensity of their union. They were two souls, once adversaries, now entwined by fate and a marriage of convenience that was starting to feel like something more.

Her thoughts scattered as pleasure coiled tighter within her, the world narrowing to the point of release. "Magnus!" she cried out as her body shuddered, the dam breaking and sending waves of ecstasy crashing over her.

He followed soon after, a primal sound escaping him as he found his own release, his face buried in the crook of her neck. Their climax was a storm, fierce and all-consuming, leaving them clinging to each other as the tempest slowly ebbed away.

Exhausted, they collapsed onto the plaid spread beneath them, their limbs entangled. Magnus pulled her close, wrapping her in his warmth. Above them, the clouds drifted lazily across the sky—a theatre of shapes and stories playing silently for those who cared to watch.

"Look there," Erin whispered, tracing the outline of a cloud that resembled a highland stag. "Do ye see it? It's as if the legends of our land take shape in the very heavens."

"Aye," Magnus replied, his voice softer now, his breath tickling her ear. "And what legend might we be, Erin? What tale will they tell of us?"

Erin nestled closer, her heart pounding at his words. They now had a future together beyond convenience and necessity. Her mind raced with the possibility of children and a time when coups would be a thing of the past.

"They will speak of the peace and prosperity ye brought to these lands." Erin smiled, her hand moving idly across his chest. "But what will they say of me?"

"A wild woman whose sharp tongue and wit bore down their laird's will until he were naught but a compliant husband," Magnus teased.

"Wicked man," she scolded. "Tell me the truth, for I shall nae beg ye, highlander."

"Aye, me lady, ye must never beg a highlander."

The End?