Epilogue

Summer 1318

Lochlan Hall

THE DE GRAHAM BAIRNS , no one could deny, were a handful. For all his command of his men—the dragon's dedicated and disciplined fire-breathing army—the laird was no match against four bairns. They came one after another, and Peigi was sure the laird still didn't know what had hit him.

Ah, but had not the laird embraced it? Peigi didn't know a more dedicated, attentive father. He made the most of every hour at home, making up for long stretches gone to the king's side.

Sure, and hadn't he said, naught but a few days ago, "They have but one childhood, Peigi. I aim to let them be bairns while they can."

"Could've knocked me over with a feather," Peigi had said, repeating the shocking statement to Cook and the kitchen staff later that day.

Likewise, Lady Raina had embraced the role of motherhood with even more gusto than she had the title and responsibilities of chatelaine to Lochlan—Christ, she'd horrified the staff years ago with her intent to nurse the babes herself. Och, the shame of it, as if she were naught but a peasant and not the lady of the manor. Peigi still remembered the first time she saw Lady Raina nursing the first bairn; she'd clutched her chest as if struck by lightning, sputtering, "Blessed Mother bawling!"

But aye, the bairns were wild, the three lads mostly. The boys, with their boundless energy and mischievous natures, seemed to find trouble wherever they looked—and did they not look far and wide for it? They scaled walls, waded through streams, and swam in the sea as if they'd been born as fish.

"Ye'd ken they were raised by wolves, nae by a laird and lady," Peigi had said, more than once.

The wee lass, though, that raven-haired doll with startling blue eyes—well, she was an angel, was she not?

Peigi's favorite, and it was no secret. Let Gilles and Aonghas and the soldiers fuss over the lads as they did, fashioning swords that'd likely take out someone's eyes soon enough and riding to Aberdeen to purchase ponies upon which the laird's sons learned to ride, but Peigi liked wee Lili right here in the keep, safe and doted upon by either her mother or Peigi herself.

The lass was the image of her father with the heart and mind—and expressions—of her mother. Peigi marveled over it almost daily. She had her father's striking blue eyes and strong features, yet the softness of her mother's smile and the fire of her spirit. "Best of both, ye have, and are ye nae blessed?" Peigi would say, ruffling the lass's dark curls.

"And here we go, luv," Peigi said now to five-year-old Lili, as the lass sat eagerly upon her knees atop the long work table in the middle of the kitchen, helping Peigi make custard.

Lili watched with wide, attentive eyes, as Peigi whisked the eggs in a separate bowl .

"I'll dump in the eggs and ye stir, lass," Peigi directed, adding the whisked eggs to the larger bowl.

She then held the bowl firmly while Lili lifted her bottom off her heels and began to stir, a wee bit clumsily for the weight of the milk, eggs, honey, and sugar in so large a batch.

The long spoon and the batter got away from her, the spoon flicking up and out of the bowl, sending a spray of half-mixed batter across the kitchen. Lili's face twisted into a grimace as she looked at Peigi before both of them turned their heads toward the door, where the batter had been flung.

There stood the dragon of Lochlan Hall, wearing a stripe of batter that cut across his front, from his right shoulder to his left hip and hand.

Peigi contained her chuckle while Lili's eyes widened, her cherubic face otherwise arrested.

The laird glanced down at his now-soiled tunic and plaid and then glanced up at a wide-eyed Lili, his expression seemingly fierce.

Even before her father grinned in response, Lili began giggling.

"‘Tis a guid catch, laird," Peigi said, allowing her chuckle to come.

"‘Twas a fine pitch," he replied. He swiped his forefinger over the dripping batter and brought it to his mouth, quickly making a face to suggest something wasn't quite right as he approached the counter. There, he picked up a squat porcelain crock and offered it to his daughter. "More honey, I ken." And he kissed her bonny black hair. Of Peigi, he asked, "Any idea where I might find my wife? "

With one hand on the big bowl and now holding the honey jar steady while Lili carefully spooned way too much into the batter, Peigi inclined her head toward the back door. "In the garden, she was, a few moments ago."

Torsten dipped his finger into the bowl and grinned when his daughter playfully swatted at his hand, as she'd seen her mother and Peigi do countless times before. "Nae, da'. Ye hae to wait."

Torsten winked at her as he backed away, putting his finger again into his mouth. "Ah, perfect, lass."

While Lili stirred again, her tongue sticking out from the corner of her mouth, as it did when she was focused and determined, Peigi smiled lovingly at her before glancing out the kitchen door, the yard and sea and sky offering an inspiring view.

In the bright sunshine of the yard, the laird and lady stood together, Raina's forearm raised to her forehead as she looked up at her husband. Two of their lads—Lord only knew where they'd come from!—were seen through the open door. The oldest, Robert, tapped a long branch at his mother's foot, none too gently, while Aindreas, one year younger, tugged at his father's hand for attention, calling repeatedly, "Da! Da! Da!"—before hollering, "Father!"

Uilleam walked by, with the youngest lad, Christian, attached to his hand. The laird and lady ignored the ruckus all around them. The dragon bent and said something quietly to his wife, wearing a grin that made him look twenty years younger. Lady Raina dropped her forearm and showed her husband a broad smile before she responded, shaking her finger at him with what seemed a playful admonition .

The laird's responding laughter rang out over the yard and wafted into the kitchen at the same time he scooped up the persistent Aindreas and twirled him fully around in mid-air, plopping him on his shoulder. He kissed his wife and then, at Aindreas's insistence, turned his shoulder so that the lad could do the same, taking his mother's face in his hands and smacking his lips against hers.

Peigi watched, a wee bit envious, a wee bit wistful. The years of war and peace had not always been easy. There'd been kind and cruel years, battles fought, and peace hard-won, so much change and so much growth, but aye, life was good at Lochlan Hall.

Rich in love and laughter, Peigi often thought.

Lili couldn't be bothered with what went on outside, busy with her task. "Look, Peigi," she said. "All gold now."

Indeed, the batter was thoroughly blended, a velvety pale yellow mixture. "Aye, luv. As it should be."

She stared at her sweet face, her perfect porcelain skin, and blue eyes that would one day break hearts, Peigi was certain. Smiling softly, she tucked a wayward curl behind the lass's ear.

"Ye have nae idea how lucky ye are, luv."

The End