Page 92 of Maggie and the Pirate’s Son

She was willful and courageous and unflagging in her willingness to jump in up to her elbows and help a man out. She had even saved his ear, though he liked to tease her that it looked lopsided now. He couldn’t imagine a better friend or more suitable bride.

“Will you, Sebastian MacLeod, take Margaret Mary Mackintosh Budge, here present, to be your lawful wife, to live together according to God’s covenant? To love her, comfort her, and honor her, cleaving only unto her?” Reverend Glaser, the chaplain of the Pursuit asked.

“I will,” Bash replied, glancing away from Maggie for long enough to grin at Constantin, who winked.

“Very good,” the enthusiastic young chaplain said. “And will you, Margaret Mary Mackintosh Budge, take Sebastian MacLeod, here present, to be your lawful husband, to live together according to God’s covenant, cleaving only unto him?”

“Yes,” Maggie said, gazing up with adoration gleaming in her endless blue eyes. “Most reverently and unabashedly, I will.”

Bash laughed.

“Excellent,” Reverend Glaser said. “Is there a ring?”

“Not as yet,” Bash said, frowning and feeling a bit silly that he, a reformed pirate, didn’t have one on hand for emergency betrothals, not even one made of sea glass.

“Oh,” Constantin exclaimed, and they all turned to watch as the captain patted first his trouser pockets, then the breast of his jacket, from which he produced a simple gold band with flower-shaped filagree.

Bash stared at it and Constantin shrugged.

“It was my mother’s.”

“Thank you, sir,” Bash told him, struggling to restrain his emotions.

The chaplain nodded his head towards Maggie. “With this ring, I thee wed,” he said softly.

“With this ring, I thee wed,” Bash repeated, his voice cracking although he was far away from the twelve-year-old boy who was flogged under a sunset much like this one.

“I believe it’s customary at this point to kiss,” the reverend told them, rocking back on his heels and grinning ear to ear. So they did, and all the stars in the night sky came out to bless their union.

Epilogue

5 YEARS LATER, CALLANISH, ISLE OF LEWIS

Maggie stood on the beach looking out to sea. The vast, open ocean always filled her with both contentment and longing.

“Penny for your thoughts, Maggie May,” Len said, taking her arm and squeezing her close.

Maggie shook her head and smiled. She couldn’t put into words what she’d been thinking. That was what feelings were invented for.

“I suspect,” Jory answered instead, taking Maggie’s other arm, “she’s contemplating the sailor who keeps doing that to her.” She nodded at Maggie’s belly, which was only just beginning to swell. No one else had noticed yet, except for Bash.

“Goodness,” Len teased. “When do you plan on stopping? You’ll soon be quite outnumbered. You know we don’t need a christening as an excuse for a visit.”

“Bash says he wants eleven,” Maggie giggled, delighting in the way her cousin winced and her sister’s eyes bugged out.

“Mercy,” Jory said.

“Well,” Len told her, “at least there’s plenty of room for them to run wild here but still be somewhat contained.”

As if to prove the point, Alex and Marjie, Ellen’s two children, ran past shouting, “Run for your lives!” while little Sav and Amoy chased after them hollering like banshees.

Maggie laughed, delighted to see her banshees playing with their older cousins. Their joy was infections. “They’re so funny. Maybe we won’t even stop at eleven,” she said, only half joking, and Jory and Len squeezed her tight.

Though he was very much loved by his mother and grandparents, Bash hadn’t enjoyed the sort of closeness the Mackintosh girls had taken for granted growing up. If he wanted two dozen children to fill up his heart, she would happily carry them. She adored watching the bond her little ones shared with each other and their adoring da. “This was delivered to Leod just before we left,” Len said, taking a rolled-up parchment from her pocket. “Sealed inside a green glass bottle.”

She held it out for Maggie to see, and a tiny thrill ran through her when she recognized her own familiar scrawl.

“Did you read it?” she asked, but Ellen shook her head. “You should read it,” Maggie told her, a little stunned the message she’d thrown into the ocean as they attempted to outmaneuver the navy had finally found its way to her sister. For a second, she wondered if Constantin himself were responsible—fishing it out of the brine and delivering it all these years later. She wouldn’t put it past him.