One year later
The road to MacBain lands felt different now.
Tavish rode beside Maighread, their horses moving at an easy pace through familiar territory. The last time he’d traveled that route, he’d been rushing to gather reinforcements, desperate and afraid. Now the autumn sun warmed his back, and his wife smiled at him from beneath her traveling cloak.
“Ye’re quiet,” Maighread observed. “Regretting bringing me home with ye?”
“Never. Just thinking how much has changed.”
“Everything has changed.”
Aye, it had. Angus MacEwan had passed peacefully in his sleep three months after their wedding, long enough to see his daughter secure and happy. The grief had been sharp but bearable, softened by knowing he’d gotten his wish. Maighread had inherited the clan with full council support, and Tavish had been named Laird of MacEwan by marriage and merit both.
“There,” Tavish said, pointing ahead. “MacBain Castle. Home.”
Maighread’s face lit up. excitement never dimmed. “I can Eilidh see on the battlements. She’s waving like a mad thing.”
Tavish laughed. His youngest sister Eilidh had visited several times over the past year, and taken to Maighread immediately, declaring her the best thing that had ever happened to their family. The feeling was mutual.
They rode through the gates to enthusiastic greetings. Servants rushed to take their horses. Fionnlagh emerged from the main hall, his serious face breaking into a rare smile.
“Braither. Ye’re back.”
Tavish clasped his arm. “Good tae be back. How are things?”
“Stable. Prosperous. Boring compared tae yer adventures.” Fionnlagh’s gaze shifted to Maighread. “Sister. Ye look well.” He had visited them as well and had grown quickly fond of his new siter-in-law.
“I am well, thank ye.”
Eilidh bounded down the steps, completely abandoning decorum to throw her arms around Maighread. “Ye’re here! Finally! I’ve been counting the days!”
Maighread laughed, returning the embrace. “I’ve missed ye too, lass.”
“Come inside, come inside! Marsaili arrived yesterday with Laird Grant. Everyone’s here fer the gathering. It’s perfect timing!”
They were swept into the castle on a wave of familial chaos. Marsaili appeared, glowing with happiness, her husband Alasdair beside her. More embraces, more greetings, the warmth of family wrapping around them like a blanket.
The Great Hall had been prepared for a feast. Long tables groaned under platters of food. Torches blazed cheerfully. It felt like coming home in the deepest sense.
Tavish settled into his chair at the High Table with Maighread beside him. His siblings took their places, along with Alasdair. Conversation flowed easily, punctuated by laughter.
“So,” Fionnlagh said after the first course had been served. “The Council’s been at me again.”
“About marriage?” Tavish guessed.
“Aye. They’re convinced I need a wife tae secure the succession. Never mind that ye’re married now and perfectly capable of producing heirs.”
Tavish felt Maighread shift beside him. He glanced over and caught something in her expression. Nervousness? Excitement? Both?
“What is it?” he murmured quietly.
“Naething. I’ll tell ye later.”
“Tell me now.”
“Tavish—”
“Now, wife. Ye look like ye’re about tae burst.”
She bit her lip, then smiled. That radiant, joy-filled smile that still made his heart stutter. “Alright. But this isnae how I planned it.”
“Planned what?”
Instead of answering, Maighread stood. The table fell silent, everyone turning to look at her.
“I have an announcement,” she said, her voice carrying across the hall. “Something I wanted tae share with all of ye taegether.”
Tavish’s pulse quickened. He had no idea what she was about to say, but the happiness radiating from her was contagious.
“I’m with child,” Maighread said simply. “Due in the spring.”
The hall erupted.
Eilidh shrieked with delight. Marsaili clapped her hands. Fionnlagh’s stoic expression cracked into a genuine grin. Servants cheered. Alasdair raised his cup in toast.
And Tavish… couldn’t breathe.
A child. Their child. Growing inside her right now.
He stood abruptly, his chair scraping back. Maighread turned to him, eyes dancing with mischief and joy.
“Surprise,” she whispered.
“Ye’re…” He couldn’t finish the sentence. His throat had closed completely.
“Aye. I am.”
He pulled her into his arms, lifting her off her feet, spinning her once before setting her down carefully. Very carefully. Because she was carrying something infinitely precious.
“A bairn,” he said, his voice rough. “We’re having a bairn.”
“We are. Are ye happy?”
“Happy? Maighread, I’m…” He cupped her face, staring into her eyes. “I’m terrified and thrilled and so bloody grateful I cannae find words fer it.”
She laughed, tears shimmering. “That’s perfect. Because I feel exactly the same.”
He kissed her then, soft and reverent, tasting salt and sweetness. Around them, his family cheered again, but he barely heard. All his attention focused on the woman in his arms and the future growing inside her.
When they finally separated, Eilidh was bouncing beside them. “I’m going tae be an aunt! Can I help with the baby? Please? I’ll be so good, I promise!”
“Of course ye can help,” Maighread assured her. “We’ll need all the help we can get.”
“Have ye told yer clan yet?” Fionnlagh asked.
“Nay. I wanted ye tae ken first.”
Tavish’s chest tightened. She understood. Of course she understood. Family had always been everything to him, and she’d made herself part of that fabric seamlessly.
“The MacEwan Council will be pleased,” Marsaili said. “A heir secures everything.”
“Two heirs, potentially,” Maighread corrected. “MacEwan and MacBain both.”
“Our children will belong tae both clans,” Tavish confirmed. “We’ve already discussed it. Nay separation, nay choosing. They’ll be raised tae honor both legacies.”
Fionnlagh nodded approvingly. “That’s wise. And it sets a precedent fer future alliances.”
“Enough politics,” Eilidh declared. “This is a celebration! We need music and dancing!”
She wasn’t wrong. Within minutes, musicians appeared and struck up lively tunes. The feast transformed into something more joyful, more spontaneous. People danced and laughed and toasted the coming child.
Tavish kept Maighread close throughout, one hand resting protectively on her still-flat stomach. The reality kept hitting him in waves. A father. He was going to be a father.
“Ye’re trembling,” Maighread murmured.
“Am I?”
“Aye. Are ye truly alright?”
He turned to face her fully, taking both her hands. “Dae ye remember what I told ye once? About fearing I’d ruin everything I touched?”
“I remember. And I told ye that was bollocks.”
“Aye, ye did. But I still carried that fear. Right up until this moment.” He pressed her palm against his chest, over his racing heart. “Now I’m nae afraid anymore. Because if ye trust me enough tae carry our child, tae build a family with me, then maybe I really am worthy of this. Of ye. Of all of it.”
Her eyes filled. “Tavish MacBain, ye’re the worthiest man I’ve ever kenned. And ye’re going tae be a wonderful faither.”
“I’ll try. Every day, I’ll try tae be worthy of ye both.”
“Ye already are.”
They swayed together to the music, not quite dancing but moving in sync. Around them, his family celebrated. Fionnlagh smiled watching them. Marsaili and Alasdair danced nearby, lost in their own happiness. Eilidh twirled with a young guardsman, laughing freely.
This was what they’d all fought for. Family, love, peace, and the freedom to build something lasting.
“What are ye thinking?” Maighread asked.
“That a year ago, I was terrified of losing ye. Of failing ye. Of nae being enough.”
“And now?”
“Now I’m still terrified, but in a different way. Scared I’ll mess up being a faither. Scared I’ll nae protect our child well enough. Scared I’ll—”
“Tavish.” She pressed a finger to his lips. “Ye’ll be brilliant. Because ye love fiercely, ye fight harder than anyone I ken, and ye never give up on what matters. Our child will be lucky tae have ye.”
“Our child will be lucky tae have ye. I’m just along fer the ride.”
She laughed. “We’re partners, remember? In everything.”
“Aye. Partners.”
The feast continued late into the night. Stories were shared, memories recounted, plans made for the future. When Marsaili mentioned how Gavin Grant had been exiled and stripped of his title after his crimes, everyone raised cups to justice. When Fionnlagh grudgingly admitted he might consider the Council’s marriage suggestions, Eilidh teased him mercilessly.
Through it all, Tavish kept Maighread close. His hand never left her waist or her hand or the small of her back. Touching her constantly, reassuring himself she was real.
Eventually, exhaustion caught up with them both. They excused themselves, retiring to the chamber that had been Tavish’s before he’d married. Now it felt strange, like visiting a museum of his former life.
“This is where ye grew up,” Maighread said, looking around with interest.
“Aye. Seems smaller now.”
“Because ye’ve grown.”
“Or because I’m used tae our chambers at MacEwan Castle.”
“Aye Laird MacEwan.”
He pulled her against him, resting his chin on top of her head. “I’m Laird of MacEwan because I married ye. The title means nothing compared tae that.”
“Flatterer.”
“Truth-teller.”
They undressed slowly, helping each other with laces and buckles. When Maighread stood in just her shift, Tavish couldn’t stop staring at her stomach.
“Ye cannae tell yet,” she said softly.
“I ken. But knowing our child is in there…” He reached out tentatively. “May I?”
“Of course. Ye’re the faither.”
He placed his palm flat against her belly, feeling the warmth of her skin through thin fabric. Nothing moved, nothing changed, but somehow everything felt different. Sacred.
“Hello, wee one,” he whispered. “I’m yer da. And I already love ye more than I thought possible.”
Maighread’s hand covered his. “We both dae.”
They climbed into bed together, tangling immediately. Tavish wrapped himself around her protectively, one hand still resting on her stomach.
“Spring,” he murmured. “Our child will be born in spring.”
“Aye. New life, new beginnings.”
“Perfect.”
Sleep pulled at him, but he fought it, wanting to savor the moment. One year ago, he’d been fighting fer survival, fer Maighread’s safety, fer any chance at a future together. Now that future was there, real and solid and growing inside the woman he loved.
“Tavish?” Maighread’s voice was drowsy.
“Aye?”
“Thank ye.”
“Fer what?”
“Fer saving me on that road. Fer choosing me. Fer loving me even when it was hard.”
“Loving ye has never been hard. It’s the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”
She turned in his arms, pressing her face against his chest. “I love ye too. So much.”
“I ken. And I’m grateful fer it every single day.”
The End.
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