Epilogue

EPILOGUE

O ne week later, Robertson Castle

Castle Robertson was a grand place, though not in the same way as Castle Chattan. Though the clan’s wealth was just as obvious to Hugo, the castle was tasteful, the decorations and furniture only as extravagant as they had to be in order for the noble guests to gauge the clan’s strength. What Hugo liked the most about it was that most of its parts—at least those that were most frequented by people—felt more like a home, the coldness that seemed to permeate most castles notably absent from it.

He was sitting in the drawing room, which reminded him quite a bit of the drawing room in Domnhall’s castle, with its comfortable, plush couches and the large windows that let in all the light of the morning. It was early still, but not so early that he was the only person awake. In fact, on the couch across from him sat Evangeline, who had made the trip to her father’s castle despite being heavily with child after she heard what had happened in Castle Chattan.

Hugo could hardly understand how she could move around when her belly was so big and she was so close to giving birth, but everyone had cautioned him against saying anything on the matter, and so he had kept his mouth shut. Instead, Evangeline wanted to hear his account of everything that had happened in the battle, and he was more than happy to oblige her.

It seemed like a safe topic.

“And then, once it was all over,” he said as he leaned back on the couch and draped his arm over the back of it, “I asked your faither if I could have Abigail’s hand.”

Judging from the shocked expression on Evangeline’s face, no one had told her yet that he and Abigail were to marry. Granted, Hugo had not yet managed to find the right time to ask her once more now that he had her father’s permission, but he had figured that everyone in the family knew about his and Abigail’s intentions.

Clearly, he had been mistaken.

“Are ye serious?” Evangeline asked, sliding to the edge of her seat. “Ye wish tae wed me sister?”

“Yes,” said Hugo with a small, bemused smile. “Why? Do you disapprove?”

“Disapprove?” Evangeline asked in disbelief as she stood and rushed to him, pulling him up from the couch to hug him. “O’ course I dinnae disapprove, Hugo. I’m happy fer ye!”

Hugo laughed, a small weight lifting off his shoulders. A part of him had been a little concerned that someone from Abigail’s family would disapprove of him as her husband, and he couldn’t help but wonder what would be left for him to do then. Surely, if one of her sisters didn’t want her to marry him, then Abigail would heed their advice.

But everyone seemed more than happy to welcome him to the family. No one had mentioned his lack of title or wealth. No one had claimed that he was unfit to be her husband.

“Och.”

Hugo looked up as Evangeline pulled back from him, one hand on her stomach. It was a strange sound that came out of her lips, one of surprise, as though something had startled her.

“What is it?” Hugo asked, alarmed by the way she paled and her hand pressed firmly against her belly. “Is it the babe?”

“I… I think it’s comin’,” Evangeline said, eyes wide as she stumbled back. Her words were followed by a low, pained groan, and Hugo rushed to her, helping her sit on the couch before pulling back to?—

To do what? He had no idea what he was supposed to do now. He only watched in horror as Evangeline leaned forward, her face scrunched up in discomfort, her fingers curling tightly around the edge of the cushion.

“Call fer help!” Evangeline said, her voice high and reedy, and it was the edge of fear in it that kicked Hugo into action.

“Help!” Hugo shouted as he dashed madly through the castle, even as he was reluctant to leave Evangeline alone for too long. Within seconds, guards were gathering around him, their swords already in their hands, but that was the last thing Hugo wanted. “Lady MacThomas is giving birth. Call the healer and her sisters. Call everyone!”

“Nae everyone!” Evangeline shouted from the drawing room, having heard him. “I dinnae wish everyone tae see me birth the bairn, ye fool!”

“Right!” said Hugo, nodding to himself. That made sense. Evangeline probably only wanted the women with her. “Well, call her sisters then! And… and the healer! Don’t forget the healer.”

“I am a healer!” Evangeline shouted, but her words trailed off into a moan of pain before she could say anything else.

Hugo rushed back to her, crouching down by her side, and Evangeline was quick to grab his hand and squeeze it hard enough to grind the bones together. “ Ah oui , I know that,” Hugo said, gritting his teeth through the pain. Whatever pain he was feeling, he was certain it was ten times worse for Evangeline. “But perhaps another healer would be of great use to you right now.”

“Me sisters are healers,” Evangeline pointed out, just as half a dozen guards barged into the room. Whether they were there to help or they had heard the commotion and were confused as to what was happening, Hugo didn’t know. Either way, they stood uselessly by the door, watching in quiet horror.

“Where is Iain?” Evangeline demanded. “Tell him tae get here.”

“I sent the guards,” said Hugo reassuringly. “I’m sure he will come soon.”

“Well, tell him tae hurry!”

“Alright, alright.” Hugo made to pull back so he could find Iain for Evangeline, but she refused to let go of his hand, her nails digging into his skin.

“Where are ye goin’?”

“To find Iain! Like you told me!”

“Dinnae leave me alone,” Evangeline said, more of a command than a request. “Ye would leave a labourin’ lass alone? What is the matter with ye?”

“ Mon dieu , what is the matter with you ?”

Instantly, it became clear to Hugo that it was the entirely wrong thing to say.

“I am birthin’ a bairn!” Evangeline said, screaming right in his ear. “That is what is the matter with me!”

Before Hugo could try and smooth things over with Evangeline, a new crowd pushed its way through the guards. Hugo had never been so glad to see Abigail, Billie, and Keira before, relieved that someone who knew what they were doing could take over.

He was quickly pushed aside, the three women helping Evangeline stand so they could take her up to her chambers for the birth. They seemed to have the situation entirely under control, barely needing to talk for each of them to know what they had to do.

Like well-trained soldiers. I suppose a healer must know how to work with others.

As Evangeline was whisked away, Domnhall and Iain rushed in from the courtyard, summoned by the guards. Hugo was the one to greet them, his hand on Iain’s shoulder as he immediately steered him towards the stairs.

“It is time,” he told Iain, and it took him a few moments to understand what he meant. When he did, though, he broke into a sprint, following the sound of the women as they made their way through the upper floor of the castle.

Then Hugo was left with Domnhall, the two of them staring at the staircase with their hands on their hips.

“Well,” said Hugo. “I suppose our work here is done.”

Still, neither of them moved from where they stood, undoubtedly thinking about the same thing.

What will it be like when I become a father?

Hugo could hardly imagine it, though with the way he and Abigail took every opportunity they had to be together, he doubted it would take long for her to bear a child. He had never given much thought to the matter. Since he had nothing to pass down to an heir, he had never concerned himself with thoughts regarding the possibility of a child at all, but now that he was thinking about it, he had to admit that he liked the idea. He could imagine it, a little boy or girl, a child to whom he could teach everything he knew.

A child who would get into trouble all the time, just like its parents, until Hugo lost his mind from the worry. The mere thought of a small version of himself or Abigail—or even worse, a mix of the two of them—was almost enough to stop his heart from the fear.

Slowly, he and Domnhall headed back to the drawing room and the guards finally dispersed. Servants brought them food and tea as they sat across from each other in a stunned, thoughtful silence, until finally Domnhall spoke.

“What dae ye think it’s like?”

“What?” Hugo asked. “Giving birth?”

“Aye.”

“Like being stabbed in your…” Hugo’s voice trailed off with a wince, one that Domnhall mirrored. “Perhaps.”

“I dinnae ken how they dae it.”

Evangeline’s cries reached all the way to the drawing room and Hugo tapped his fingers nervously on his thigh as he listened. Surely, her sisters knew what they were doing and there was no need for concern, but he had never been present, even from a distance, at a birth before.

“Is this what it always sounds like?” he asked Domnhall.

“Och, I wouldnae ken,” said Domnhall with a shrug. “I suppose so.”

Silence stretched between them once more, but the food in front of them remained untouched, neither man capable of eating a thing. A few moments later, Laird Robertson entered the room, and had it not been for the tense line of his shoulders, Hugo would not have known that he was concerned at all.

The man was beaming, his smile brighter than the sun.

“Well!” he said as he took a seat with a pleased sigh, folding his hands across his stomach. “This may very well be the best day o’ me life. One o’ them, certainly.”

Hugo and Domnhall looked at the man. Above them, Evangeline screamed.

Laird Robertson must have noticed the way they blanched, the color draining from their faces, as he said, “Dinnae fash. I’m sure Evangeline an’ the bairn will be fine.”

He truly is unshakable as a pillar.

It was something Hugo had heard many times about Laird Robertson, how nothing seemed to faze him, but to see it in action was an entirely different thing. Where he and Domnhall had panicked, where Iain was surely panicking still, Laird Robertson was calm as ever, certain that everything would work out, despite losing his wife to childbirth.

However, there was a tension in his shoulders and he still bore the marks Niall and Finnian had left on him. His lip was slowly healing but his eye was still bruised, the color turning to a sickly green. And yet, he had not once complained of pain or even taken a day to recover. From the moment they had reached Castle Robertson, he had been nothing but business.

This was the kind of man Hugo would want as his laird, he thought, and he couldn’t help but notice the similarities with Domnhall and Iain.

The hours passed slowly, excruciatingly so. To Hugo, it seemed as though entire days had passed, but it was barely past noon when Abigail appeared at the door with a grin, rushing to her father first.

“It’s a laddie!” she announced. “Ach faither, ye should see him, he is such a bonnie wee bairn. An’ Evangeline is restin’ now. She’s very happy.”

“They’re both well?” Laird Robertson asked.

“Och aye,” Evangeline assured him. “Both healthy.”

That tension in Laird Robertson’s shoulders finally bled out of him and the man relaxed with a sigh, leaning back against the couch. “Good,” he said. “Let us ken when we can see them.”

“Soon,” Abigail promised. “Evangeline an’ Iain decided tae name him Brian.”

“Brian MacThomas,” said Laird Robertson. “A good name indeed.”

“Give them both our wishes,” Hugo said as Abigail stood once more to tend to her sister. As she walked out of the room, she gave Hugo a subtle gesture, silently asking him to follow her, and Hugo excused himself rather awkwardly to meet her behind the stairs.

The moment he was close enough, Abigail grabbed him and pulled him close, kissing him. In his surprise, Hugo flailed a little, almost losing his balance, but then he planted his feet firmly on the ground and kissed her back, a soft laugh escaping him.

“I want a bairn,” Abigail said, mumbling against his lips. “Let us wed soon so ye can give me one. Or two. Or three.”

It spoke to the strength of Abigail’s desire for a family, Hugo thought, that she wanted a child immediately after seeing her sister give birth, though he supposed that had he also seen Evangeline’s joy at finally meeting her son, it would have eclipsed all the worry and pian involved in childbearing. And really, who was he to deny anything his future wife wanted?

“If you wish,” he said, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Anything you want.”

Immediately, Hugo regretted making that promise. If the mischievous glint in Abigail’s eyes was any indication, she was truly going to exhaust him in her quest for a child.

“I must tend tae me sister,” she said, though she didn’t yet pull away from him. “But I want ye tae come tae me chambers tonight.”

“Tonight?” Hugo asked, eyes wide as he looked over his shoulder, the irrational fear that Laird Robertson was right there behind him taking over. Though they were far from waiting for marriage to be together, it seemed entirely indecent to Hugo to sneak into Abigail’s chambers in her father’s own home when they were not yet wedded. What if the man found out? What if someone saw him and told the laird?

“Tonight an’ every night,” Abigail said, giving him one last kiss before she pulled back, giving him no time to object. She was gone before Hugo could even think of what to say.

On the one hand, he could easily be caught. On the other, the temptation was too strong for him to resist.

We’ll be husband and wife soon.

That’s what he told himself, at least. He would simply have to avoid Laird Robertson at all costs until the wedding.