Page 106 of Forbidden Kilted Highlander

EPILOGUE

Armstrong Lands

The sun rose golden over Armstrong lands, softening the stone edges of the keep and casting long, honey-colored shadows across the hills. It was the kind of light that meant something new was beginning. The kind that whispered hope.

Today, Agnes would be married.

The bridal chamber smelled of lavender and rosewater. Steam from the bath still lingered faintly in the corners, curling against the panes of glass like the last wisps of sleep. Her gown lay across the bed, ivory and pale gold, the stitching so fine it could’ve been done by moonlight or angels.

Paisley bustled nearby, smoothing the fabric, her face pink with concentration. She had been allowed to come with Agnes from Caithness’s lands—a final gift, the laird had said, because no bride should prepare for her wedding without someone she loved by her side.

"Yer hair's bein' difficult again," she muttered, wrangling another unruly curl into place with a ribbon. "It's got a mind o' its own."

Agnes smiled faintly at her reflection. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips stained soft with balm. Her eyes were bright, wide. She looked... different. Still herself, but steadier somehow. Brighter at the edges. Not untouched by what had happened, but no longer bowed by it.

Paisley caught her watching. "What?"

"Naethin’," Agnes said, the corners of her mouth tugging upward. "Just glad it’s ye by me side."

Paisley paused, eyes softening. "There’s naewhere else I’d choose tae be."

That pulled a fuller smile from Agnes. She reached for Paisley’s hand and gave it a grateful squeeze.

The door creaked open just then, and another voice—one she hadn’t heard in far too long—cut through the quiet.

"I knew you’d look like a queen."

Agnes turned, breath catching. "Constance."

Her sister stood framed in the doorway, radiant as ever in blue, her auburn curls pinned back but loose at the sides. Her eyes brimmed with tears, but her smile was wide and bright.

Agnes didn’t wait. She crossed the room and threw her arms around her sister, burying her face into the familiar curve of her shoulder.

"I missed ye," Agnes whispered.

"I missed you more," Constance murmured back, her hands stroking Agnes’s back gently. "Gods above, couldn't you send a letter?"

They both laughed, wet and breathless, clinging to each other as if trying to make up for every lost day. Agnes felt Constance’s tears drip into her hair, and her own followed suit, soaking into her sister’s dress. It wasn’t just joy. It was relief, and sorrow, and the fierce, aching love that only twins could share. The bond that had been stretched thin across months and miles had snapped back in an instant, mending with a ferocity that made Agnes dizzy. She pulled back, cupping Constance’s face, searching it as if to memorize every line.

"Ye’re really here," she whispered.

Constance nodded, her lips trembling with a grin. "I’ll always find my way to you."

"I wanted tae write," Agnes said, stepping back, eyes misted. "But everything happened so fast."

"So you’ll just have to tell me now," Constance said, pulling her over to the bed. "All of it. Every bit. I want the whole tale of how my sensible sister ended up marryin’ a former outlaw turned laird."

Agnes gave her an arch look. "Tav’s nae an outlaw."

"He bloody well was."

She laughed again, the sound lifting like a bell. "He was angry and guarded and kind. Too kind. I thought he was arrogant. But then... he looked at me like I was more than just a duty. He listened. Saw me. And then he saved me life more times than I can count, even when I tried tae pretend I didnae need him. I fell in love with him before I could stop it."

Constance grinned. "And you really love him, I can see it in your face."

Agnes blushed, then nodded. "Aye. I dae. I love him more than I thought I could love anyone. "

Constance reached over and squeezed her hand. "You deserve joy. I prayed every night you’d find it."