Callum, ever the scholar and romantic, gave Isla a leather-bound volume of Robert Burns’ Scottish poems, a quiet nod to their heritage that made her eyes shine.
Kenneth, with his customary grand gesture, gifted Benedict an antique, framed map of his family’s holdings.
Even the often-acerbic Aunt Honoria became genuinely emotional when Eilidh gifted her a small, perfectly stitched embroidered handkerchief, a piece of handiwork that spoke volumes of care.
The soft murmur of thanks and the rustle of paper filled the elegant room, binding the disparate members of the family together in a web of affection and quiet respect.
Then, Benedict stood, tapping his spoon against his glass. The room fell silent, the flames in the hearth reflecting in his eyes. He looked at Isla, his smile spreading into a genuine, unburdened expression of joy. He walked up to her and took her hand, drawing her gently to her feet beside him.
“My family, my friends,” Benedict announced, his voice strong and clear. “I have enjoyed this year, which has been full of most unexpected gifts. My son is happy, my home is safe, and I have found true companionship and love.” He paused, looking down at Isla. “And now, Isla and I have another piece of good news to share with you all. We will be welcoming a new member to the family this coming summer.”
A shocked, ecstatic silence was followed by an explosion of applause as everyone leapt to their feet.
Oliver was the first to react, shrieking with pure delight and throwing himself at his mother. “Mama! A little brother or sister! I knew it! I knew we could have one! It’s all I wanted for Christmas!”
Eilidh rushed forward, pulling Isla into a fierce, tearful hug.
“I ken it! Your face is so radiant, sister,” she said. “Pregnancy suits ye well. Ye are resplendent.”
Aunt Honoria dabbed her eyes with a lace handkerchief, beaming with satisfaction, while Kenneth and Callum hammered Benedict’s back with hearty congratulations.
“If only your parents were here, dears,” Aunt Honoria said wistfully. “I am grateful to bear witness to this.”
“I hope this little one has the best qualities of them both,” Isla said as she smiled at her dear aunt.
As the commotion finally began to settle, Aunt Honoria leaned over to Eilidh, her voice low and conspiratorial. “Well, it seems things are progressing nicely for all of us, Eilidh. Perhaps next year, the excitement will be yours? I daresay Lord Arnold seems quite taken with you. I have caught his eyes wandering in your direction at the last ball we attended. His assets are quite impressive.”
“Ye are incorrigible,” Eilidh blushed, her eyes sparkling, acknowledging the hint of her own future prospects. “But perhaps ye are right… I think I may find love in the new year.”
“That’s my dear,” Aunt Honoria said with a smile. “You keep me young!”
Later that night, when the fires had burned down to embers and the guests had retired to their perfectly set rooms, Isla and Benedict stood together in the deserted parlor. The scents of pine and spent beeswax were heavy in the air. The only light came from the deep, red glow of the coals and the stars that showed through the windows.
Isla placed her hand gently over her lower abdomen, rubbing it reverently and smiling. “A Duke who throws cushions for sport and weeps for joy… I am still gettin’ used to this new you,mo chridhe. So much has happened so fast…”
Benedict wrapped his arms around her from behind, bending down and resting his chin on her shoulder, his lips brushing the curve of her earlobe. “It is the real me, Duchess. The man you saved from his own darkness. I am a much happier ruin now, thanks to you.”
“Are ye sure it is all right that we have told everyone that I am with child? It is still so early,” she whispered.
“I am not afraid. I know that my warrior queen will bring our baby into this world,” he said, smiling.
He turned her in his arms, and his hands moved to cup her face. His thumb gently wiped away a stray tear of happiness that had escaped her eye.
“I love you,” he murmured, his voice thick with devotion. “And I love this life you have given me. “
“Live it with me, then,” Isla whispered, winding her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. “Stop imagining, stop thinking, and just live.”
“This is the happiest Christmas of my life,” he whispered.
“Just wait until next year,” she sighed. “What shall we do now, husband?”
Benedict answered with a deep kiss, the heat of the dying fire and the depth of their lust for each other wrapping around them like a soft blanket. He lifted her into his arms effortlessly and carried her out of the darkened parlor, moving towards the master suite, where their future awaited them.
The massive four-poster bed was draped in newly acquired heavy velvet, the fireplace crackling with fresh logs a thoughtful footman had laid earlier. Benedict set Isla down gently beside the bed, his eyes never leaving hers as he began to unbutton his shirt.
“Wait,” Isla said. She reached out and took his hand, pulling him not toward the bed, but toward the mahogany chest of drawers tucked in the corner. “I have one last gift for ye, Benedict.”
He watched, curiosity softening his features, as she opened a small, leather-bound box tucked away beneath a stack ofhis nightshirts. She lifted out a heavy, antique silver pendant, suspended from a delicate filigree chain. The silver had a deep, mellow patina, and the pendant itself was an intricate knotwork design, forming a Celtic heart.
