Epilogue

T wilight was her favorite time of day. Standing atop the curtain wall with her husband at her side, Genvieve would carry their daughter, while Winslow carried their son. The guard would still make their sweep of the wall, but they’d slow their steps and lower their voices if the twins were sleeping.

“Moira’s growing so quickly,” Genvieve whispered, brushing a midnight curl off their daughter’s forehead so she could press her lips there.

“Jamie’s still bigger,” Winslow boasted, reaching for his daughter, while Genvieve passed her off and waited for her husband to put their son in her arms. She brushed a flyaway strand of bright red off his cheek and pressed her lips to the spray of freckles at his temple.

“Did you ever think we’d have such beautiful children?” The wonder of it filled her still.

“Aye,” he answered. “’Tis because I prayed for ye, lass.”

Confused, she looked up into his beloved face and waited for him to continue.

“Ah, lass,” Winslow said pulling her close and holding her against his side. “’Tis a family ye needed, so I asked God for a miracle.”

“But I thought I was barren,” she rasped, still not believing she’d been able to carry the babes to term and safely deliver them.

“Ye hadna been with a Highlander then, lass.” Winslow winked at her and kissed her full on the mouth in front of the passing guard and their sleeping children.

“And that makes all the difference?” she asked, not quite believing him, needing to tease him. “Then why did you pray?”

“If we only had one chance, I wanted a son and a daughter,” he said simply drawing his family against his broad shoulders.

“Ah, lass,” he rasped. “Life is good.”

“I love you, Winslow,” Genvieve said closing her eyes.

“I know,” he said grinning.

She shook her head at him. “Winslow!”

He sighed deeply. “You’d force me to say the words, then, lass?”

“Yes,” she said waiting, and smiling.

“I love ye, lass.”

She sighed deeply, “I know.”