The pressure of Wilkie’s fingers on my own increased. “I, Wilkie Mackenzie, take thee, Roses Stuart, to have and to hold, from this day forward, in sickness and in health, to honor, to cherish, to love unconditionally, ’til death to us part.”
“I, Roses Stuart, take thee, Wilkie Mackenzie, as my lawfully wedded husband...” I prayed for my knees to support me as I recited my own vows, my voice as steady and true as it might have ever been. “...’til death do us part.”
Christie handed Wilkie a ring, and he said to me, “’Twas our mother’s ring. Until I can get you something specially made, for us.”
He slipped the ring onto my finger.
Kade stepped forward, drawing a knife from his belt. Wilkie was looking at me and offered his upturned palm to Kade, who sliced a small, neat line across Wilkie’s palm. Then Kade reached out to me, requesting my hand. Although I wasn’t expecting it, I didn’t hesitate, offering him my raised hand. Kade drew an identical line across my own palm, then he placed Wilkie’s hand in mine, palm to palm, so our blood could mingle. As it had before. The king wrapped a white linen strip around our wrists, binding us to each other.
“Wilkie Mackenzie,” the king said, “I am pleased to welcome you to my family, clan Stuart. As husband to my daughter, I bestow you with the lairdship of Ossian Lochs, to oversee its resources and its army.” The king turned to me, and he leaned to kiss my cheek. “Roses, daughter, child of my Sophia and heir to my Highlands throne, welcome back.”
And then, I heard my father say the sweetest words I had ever heard spoken.
“By the grace of our Heavenly Father, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride, Wilkie Mackenzie.”
And so he did.
EPILOGUE
OSSIANLOCHSISASBEAUTIFULas it is wild. Almost twice the size of Kinloch and with higher walls, it is a truly majestic estate. Much of it is windswept and craggy, but there are vast expanses of cultivated splendor, as well. I help oversee the gardens and the orchards, and have a team of highly capable landholders who carry out their duties with talent and experience.
And Wilkie has grown into his role as laird with grace and tenacity. His hotheaded nature has mellowed into one of determined and tireless leadership. He seems to have the energy of ten men, and his troops respect not only the skills he willingly teaches, but also the lengths he goes to as he guides and trains each and every one of them. There was some friction among the ranks at first, as there always is when a new leader enters the fray. But such is Wilkie’s talent with the sword that any man who challenges him soon begs for mercy. Among his top-ranked officers are Fergus, Ritchie and Ronan, all formidable—and staunchly loyal—warriors in their own right. After a time, and with heartfelt respect, the warriors of the Stuart clan have pledged their allegiance to Wilkie’s leadership, down to the last man. He rules as his brother does, and his father before him: with fairness and honor, with hard work, hard-won loyalties and genuine camaraderie.
Officially, we are Laird and Lady Stuart, but many of his higher-ranking men call him, as he allows, simply “Mackenzie.”
Wilkie’s scars map his body, and each day I tend to him and soothe him, and heal him with every remedy I know.
In the evenings, in the privacy of our own chambers, Wilkie continues to teach me to read and write. In these sessions, I see a different side to my warrior husband: a knowledgeable, patient nobleman who has traveled and studied and considered larger ideas than I have ever had need to contemplate. He seems to enjoy sharing this part of himself, and I, captivated, am a willing student, although I am easily distracted by the aspects of him I already adore, and the equally alluring newly discovered ones. Often, my learning is cut short to attend to more urgent endeavors.
The Stuart clan seems to enjoy the newfound stability of our presence. They grew weary of the skirmishes and upheaval that ruled their clan and their keep for many years, and they covet the new sense of peace and closure that pervades the mood at Ossian Lochs. As I do. Their questions, as mine, have been laid to rest.
Many of my clanspeople are related to me by blood, and I have reveled in these new, fascinating connections. This shared history bonds us as surely as memories do.
I have finally found a place that feels like home.
Our lives are not without menace, as Laird Campbell continues to threaten us with his continued bids for leadership, but our army is strong and well-allied. And my reappearance as King William’s child, officially bestowed Ossian Lochs by the king himself, has dulledthe rebellion beyond Campbell’s own mind. Wilkie is ever watchful.
Ismay has just left me, and I am waiting for Wilkie in our private chambers. He has been acting cagey and excitable of late and says he has a surprise for me, which he will present tonight. I, too, have a surprise for him, but I’ll let him go first.
He arrives, and his presence fills the room and my heart riotously and completely, as it always does. It is evening, just off dusk, and winter will soon give way to spring. For all his ferocity and newfound poise, Wilkie is playful tonight. He scoops me into his arms, and his kiss is full of exhilaration and devotion.
He sets me down, and I notice he is holding something in each of his hands. “’Tis time for your gifts,” he says.
“What’s the occasion? Why do you give me gifts?”
“’Tis my duty, as your faithful husband, to make all your dreams come true, every one,” he says.
“My dreams have already come true. You are my dream, husband.”
But he gets down onto one knee before me and gently grasps my left hand. He slides a ring onto my fourth finger and adjusts it. “Here is your first gift,” he says. “One you should have received several months ago, in fact, but it took me some time to have it fashioned just so.”
The ring is gold with a small sculpted rose at its center, and the rose has been encrusted with many tiny diamonds. I gasp at the elegance and the luxury of it. It catches shimmering light as I hold it up to admire. “So beautiful, warrior,” I whisper.
“And now for your other gift.”
“’Tis too much,” I protest, but he holds up a piece ofcloth and turns me around. He places a blindfold over my eyes and gently ties it. I find myself smiling at his expectant, boyish behavior. He’s brimming with an unknowable anticipation.
He picks me up easily, carrying me in his powerful embrace. I am being swept down the grand staircase of our manor and out-of-doors. I feel the cool air of the almost-spring evening. It will not be long now until the blossoms and the seeds begin to sprout, and I detect the scent of the earth beginning its renewal.
