Epilogue

EPILOGUE

T wo years after their wedding, Janice found that she was with child. Her courses had always been as regular as the moon, but after missing them twice, she consulted Cathy McLeod.

"My god, hen!" she remarked as she saw Janice for the first time in two months. She stood with her hands on her hips, looking the young woman up and down. "Either ye have been eatin' out o' the pigs' trough or ye have a bairn in there."

"Well, I can assure you I have not partaken of pig swill," Janice assured her, laughing.

Cathy gave her a short examination, then looked up into Janice's face. She had no need to say anything; her smile said it all.

Bernard was overjoyed. "I thought it would never happen," he said in disbelief.

He caressed the first soft swelling of Janice's stomach and then kissed it.

"When?" he asked eagerly.

"Spring, apparently," Janice replied.

Bernard laid his head down on the little bump and sighed. "Do you remember when I said I had never been so happy?" he asked.

"Yes, on our wedding day." Janice was contentedly stroking his hair.

"I think I might be even happier now," he told her, laughing.

It should have been spring, but the weather had suddenly taken a turn for the worse, and the hooves of Bernard's horse crunched over the frost-encrusted ground as he rode home. He had been called away to help with the lambing and had left the castle while there were still some daylight hours left. Now night had fallen, and he was weary to his bones. As well as that, the sweat of his exertion was beginning to cool, and he was freezing.

The stables had been warmed by the heat of the animals' bodies, and the sweet smell of hay and horses smelled like perfume to his exhausted senses. Bernard dismounted from his horse with a feeling of utter relief, then stumbled inside the castle, where he was met by the small slim figure of Janice's maidservant, Kitty. Her face was flushed, and she was more agitated than he had ever seen her.

At once, a wave of alarm swept over him, and he actually began to tremble with fear.

"What is wrong, Kitty? Is it Janice?" he demanded urgently.

He did not wait for an answer but sprinted to the stairs, taking them two at a time. His heart was beating a wild tattoo as he reached the top of the stairs and ran as fast as he could toward his bedroom, skidding to a halt outside it.

He turned the doorknob, then, as the door refused to open, began to rattle it frantically and bang on it with the flat of his hand.

"Janice! Janice!" he roared. "Let me in!"

The door was opened so suddenly that he stumbled into the room and almost took a tumble onto the floor, but he braced himself with his hands and got to his feet. Then his jaw dropped as he beheld the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

Sitting in their bed was Janice, holding a tiny swaddled bundle in the crook of each arm. She was flushed and sweating, but there was a glow of absolute joy about her that rendered her more beautiful than he had ever seen her. It took him a moment to realize that the two blanket-wrapped forms were babies—his babies. He was stupefied. His feet refused to move at first as he stared at his new family, slowly shaking his head in disbelief.

Then, suddenly, he moved in three strides to the side of the bed and kissed Janice's soft lips before looking down at the two tiny red faces of his children. They were both pulling faces and making tiny snuffling moans and grunts. Neither of them looked anything like the beautiful round, soft creatures he had imagined, but they were his and Janice's. He was overwhelmed by a fierce protectiveness and knew that from this moment on, he would defend them with his life.

"Say something," Janice said softly, smiling at him tenderly.

He could hardly speak because of the lump in his throat. "I love them," he said, with a catch in his voice. "And I love you, my Janice. Thank you! Thank you from the bottom of my heart."

"I did not do it alone," she reminded him, with a weary laugh. "I think I remember you having something to do with it as well."

"You did all the hard work, though," he pointed out. Then he chuckled. "And you were very generous. Was one child not enough?"

She laughed. "Twins have been in my family for as long as I can remember. There is one set in every generation."

Bernard looked adoringly into the little faces for a full minute, studying every nook and cranny of their tiny features. Then he said, "I almost forgot to ask… Are they boys or girls?"

Janice giggled. "Both." She nodded at the baby on her left side. "This is your son." Then she indicated the baby on the right. "And this is your daughter. She was born ten minutes before he was."

"May I hold her?" he asked, not taking his eyes off the little face.

Janice nodded, and Bernard leaned down to lift the baby gently into his arms. She squirmed and gave a tiny moan, and her little fists punched the air before she settled into his arms and became quiet.

Bernard's eyes examined every inch of the tiny face, and he was overwhelmed with a tenderness he had never felt before. She was so small, so completely helpless. She depended on her parents for her very survival, and they would not let her down.

Bernard kissed the little forehead and ran his thumb over her soft cheek, then he surrendered her to Janice again and received his son into his arms. The infant squirmed and gave a lusty yell as Bernard held him in the crook of his arm. Then he caught hold of one of his father's fingers and held on to it with a surprisingly tight grip, and when Bernard tried to withdraw it, he held on fiercely, screwing his little face up in obvious annoyance.

Janice giggled as she looked at the large man and the tiny baby. In spite of the difference in their sizes, it was obvious who had enslaved whom. She had never before seen such love on Bernard's face. Of course, she knew he loved her as a wife, but if what he felt was the same aching tenderness that she was experiencing, then she knew it was an altogether different kind of love. It was all-consuming.

"I still cannot believe it," he whispered, then suddenly his face broke into a wide, beaming smile.

He took his daughter from Janice and began to pace around the room with the twins, murmuring and crooning a nonsensical song of his own composition to them.

He looks so proud, Janice thought indulgently as he stopped before the window and looked out, rocking the babies in his arms. Presently, he stopped and gave a gasp of amazement.

"What is it?" asked Janice, alarmed.

She was throwing aside the coverlet to climb out of bed when Bernard turned back to her.

"She has opened her eyes!" he replied excitedly.

Janice put her hand to her chest, relieved. "Come over here, you silly man!" she laughed.

When he brought the babies over to her, the little girl's dark, blue-grey eyes were wide open, but as soon as she saw her mother's face, she was fixated on it.

"You lovely girl," Janice murmured. "What shall we call you?"

Bernard asked tentatively, "May we call her Moira? It would make my mother so happy."

Janice smiled. "I have always loved the name," she agreed. She looked at her son, then at Bernard. "William?" she suggested.

"William called his son Bernard," he said, smiling. "So it seems only fair to return the favor."

Janice nodded happily. "William and Moira Taggart." She kissed each one of her babies' foreheads, then smiled lovingly at her husband.

"There will be more," she promised. "I want at least four more."

He laughed. "I will see to it!"

And there were.

Thank you so much for reading my book!