Page 75 of Highlander’s Claim

“And I realized I want to be a mother to a child, and it doesn’t matter if it’s a child of my own body or not.”

“Ye’re right, lass. And there’s a wee bonnie bairn ye ken who lost both her ma and her da and needs a family to love her. Ye can be her mother and give her all the love ye’ve always wanted to give to yer own bairn. And I can raise her and teach her, and bounce her on my knee.”

“Una.” Tears filled Jenny’s eyes. She blinked and smiled and nodded enthusiastically. “Beathan told me, ‘Sometimes ’tis the family God lets ye find that matters the most.’ It was as though he was giving me his blessing to adopt Una, even though he never knew it back then. You and Una will be mine…if you still want that.”

A warm, light emotion rose up through his chest and tightened his throat.

“If I still want that…” he muttered. “Aye, of course I still want that. ’Tis what I live for, lass. For ye…for a life with ye and with a wee daughter.”

Her smile broadened, but her eyes watered. “But Aulay…I would never be able to give you your own children. Do you really understand that?”

“I do, lass. I’ve done my duty as the laird of this clan. I can be proud of the legacy that I leave behind.”

“You can. You know, in Islay, even seven hundred years from now, people know who you were and honor your memory. Philippa MacDonald, the lady who helped me, knew about you. Your legacy is so much more than you can imagine. It’ll stay for centuries after you.”

He couldn’t breathe. “Ye dinna ken what this means to me, lass. Ye brought me peace. Ye brought me love. Ye brought me back to life.”

She gave him a cheeky gaze that melted his heart. “So… You still want to marry me, then?”

Surprising himself with the strength in his arms, he grasped her by the shoulders and pulled her to him. His wound complained, but he didn’t care. Jenny giggled as she settled comfortably on his chest.

“Aye, lass. I love ye. Ye gave back life to my very soul. Ye filled the emptiness in me. I want to give an oath to the whole world that ye’re mine and I’m yers.”

She smiled. “I’m already yours, silly. And I will always be.”

EPILOGUE

Two months later…

“The itsy, bitsy spider climbed up the waterspout…” Jenny sang over Una, joining the thumb and index finger on each of her hands, then making a twisting motion as she raised them.

Una, who was now eight months old, giggled, sitting in the high chair next to her at the great table. Jenny had ordered the chair from the village carpenter based on the design of twenty-first-century high chairs.

Through the hum and the music of their wedding feast around them, Aulay joined Jenny’s song.

“Down came the rain and washed the spider out…” he boomed with his gorgeous Gaelic accent.

He had such a deep, masculine voice, like the drone of a jazz singer. As if hypnotized, Una stopped giggling and gave him the broadest one-tooth smile from ear to ear. She reached out with her little hand and brushed her tiny fingers through his short beard.

“Out came the sun and dried up all the rain…” continued Jenny, giggling. She loved seeing them like this. The love and tenderness Aulay showed Una made Jenny tear up every single time. And now, at their wedding feast, she and Una wore matching pale blue gowns with golden embroidered fronts.

“And the itsy-bitsy spider climbed up the spout again!” concluded Aulay loudly, and Una waved her arms in excitement. “Whatever ‘spout’ means…” he sang in the same melody.

Jenny giggled. “I told you, it’s a tube or a channel for water. Every house has them to let rainwater down from the roof.”

“Aye.” He kissed her cheek. “I ken. Hard to imagine every house having that.”

“Having what?” asked Colum, who approached the great table from the other side. He wriggled his fingers and winked at little Una, who squealed in delight.

Behind him, the great hall swarmed with people. Along five rows of long tables, dozens of guests ate, drank, talked, and laughed. The whole of clan MacDonald was here, including warriors, but also simple people, like farmers, tradespeople, and villagers.

A music platform had been erected at the end of the hall, and musicians played a cheerful medieval tune.

The hall was decorated for the feast. Jenny had insisted on fresh flowers, so only those that still bloomed in September decorated the walls and the tables: bluebells, heather, thistle, and some white wildflowers Jenny didn’t know the name of.

Tables burst with dishes. Roasted swans, grilled boars, salmon, and partridge. Pastries, pies—both sweet and savory—cheeses, fresh bread, and so much wine, ale, and beer. Cup bearers ran around, pouring the drinks freely. Dogs sniffed about, hoping for some table scraps. Children played between the rows. Laughter, squeals, and singing were all a loud hum.

Jenny didn’t feel like a stranger here anymore. People weren’t trying to burn her at the stake. They’d completely changed their minds about her after what she had done for Mhairi and Sìomon and after she had saved their laird’s life.