Rescued by the Highland Warrior – Extended Epilogue
One month later, Castle Fraser
It was summertime at Castle Fraser, and the air was filled with the sweet scent of roses. The Highland mountains loomed in the near distance, their green peaks still and picturesque against a perfect blue sky.
Roderick would have wedded Moira sooner, but she had told him she wanted to have their wedding during the height of summer, and Roderick could understand why.
It was perfect outdoors.
There was a slight chill in the air that tempered the sun’s heat, and the sounds of the garden hummed in perfect symphony with the chatter of the castle’s guests.
Everyone was invited, and as Roderick waited by the priest at the heart of the rose garden, he let his gaze sweep over the guests sitting before him on wooden chairs.
Roderick, after he had been stubbornly isolating himself since his father died, burdened with grief and suspicion, had finally found himself opening up to, and enjoying, the company of others once again.
He was glad that so many people were there to witness their wedding.
As he gazed upon the faces around him, he noticed with a smile that Edin was sitting near the back. He assumed Moira didn’t know that she was coming, and Roderick knew she’d be excited to have her there, as one of her own.
Both Moira and Roderick had decided to reveal Moira’s true identity to a select few: Isobel, Cameron and Arabella.
Given that Moira’s ties with the Triad had been officially cut, they believed it was safe to do so. However, to the rest of the inhabitants of the castle, Moira remained Lady Wilson—soon to be Lady Fraser.
Roderick didn’t want to push their luck. He explained that Lady Wilson’s family could not attend due to other obligations. Whether or not they believed him didn’t matter—no further questions were asked.
As he stood below a grand arch of woven heather and pink roses, he shifted nervously from foot to foot, tense with anticipation.
“Nervous are we, me Laird?” Cameron asked with a smile, standing a few paces to his right.
Roderick let out a low chuckle, rolling his shoulders. “Aye, maybe just a wee bit.”
Cameron smirked. “Ye? The man who has faced battles, outwitted enemies, avenged yer faither. Nervous about a wedding?”
Roderick inhaled, his chest expanding slowly beneath his draped tartan plaid. “Aye,” he said, gazing toward the rose garden’s main entrance. “This is different. It has tae be perfect fer her.”
Cameron clapped a hand onto his shoulder. “It already is, me friend.”
Before Roderick could respond, the crowd quieted, and a young lad playing the flute began a soft melody. They all turned their heads to the back of the rose garden, as a harp joined in, swelling the music to a more romantic depth.
Roderick straightened himself out, repositioning the belt at his waist. But as soon as Moira took her first steps into the garden, his hands fell to his sides.
Dressed in a pale green linen dress, Moira moved with quiet elegance slowly down the aisle. At first, her gaze wove through the crowd, her green eyes sparkling with a certain shyness beneath the sun. Her black hair fell down her back, framing her delicate features and complementing the greens of her eyes and dress.
Everyone in the crowd was stunned.
But as her gaze found Roderick’s, her shyness seemed to melt away, replaced by a certainty that mirrored his own. It was a look that made his chest tighten, heavy with emotion.
She walked toward him, a joyful smile on her lips as the music faded away, their attention solely for each other.
He couldn’t believe how much she had transformed. When she had first come to him, she had been cold and restrained—a woman bound by duty and weighed down by the ghosts of her past.
But now, she was radiant and free—she was his.
As she came to stand beside him, the music stopped, and Roderick swallowed against the lump in his throat.
“Ye tak’ me breath away, lass,” he whispered into her ear, “I dinnae think ye’ll have much of a man left standin’ by the time this is done.”
Moira giggled and whispered back, “At least keep it together fer our first consummation.”
The corner of Roderick’s mouth upturned into a wry smile as the priest cleared his throat, commencing the ceremony.
First, he spoke a few words, his voice booming through the crowd with authority, though Roderick took little notice of what he said. He was distracted by Moira and the way the sun bathed her features in the perfect light.
She was sparkling beneath the summer sky, like a rare emerald.
“Step forward,” the priest beckoned, after he finished his speech. They moved accordingly, hand in hand.
A length of finely woven tartan ribbon was brought forth, the colors of Clan Fraser contrasting against the pale green of Moira’s sleeves. As the priest commenced the ancient custom, he wrapped the ribbon around their joined hands, binding them together.
“Handfastin’ is a symbol of yer devotion, a vow bound nae by mere words, but by the very fabric of yer people. By this tie, ye pledge yerselves tae one another, in strength and in weakness, in fortune and in hardship, fer as long as ye both shall live.”
Roderick squeezed Moira’s hand gently as the priest nodded for them to speak.
Both Moira and Roderick exchanged their vows. They kept them short, for Roderick was not one for long drawn-out speeches, and Moira, he knew, also preferred words that carried true meaning over flowery declarations.
But he was overjoyed to share their love publicly, at least once, upholding the traditions of his father and all who came before him.
To conclude the ceremony, both Roderick and Moira’s hands were released, and they drank from a chalice filled with spiced wine.
A cheer erupted from the gathered crowd as the bagpipes began to sound a deep, triumphant melody.
Roderick tugged Moira closer, his free hand coming up to cup her cheek.
“I love ye,” he said softly, kissing her lips.
As they pulled apart, the crowd applauded enthusiastically, and they walked down the aisle of the rose garden as familiar faces cheered them on.
“Ah,” Moira said, her voice only a little louder than the jolly music, “it looks like a fairytale out here.”
“It is,” Roderick said, squeezing her hand a little tighter. “Fittin’ fer a princess like yerself.”
“Och, I’m nay princess,” Moira said, “just a lady.”
Roderick chuckled, bringing his mouth close to her ear. “There’s nae much difference between the two, Lady Fraser.”
Moira rolled her eyes, and as they stepped through the rose garden, the guests followed behind. They moved toward a large open area of the garden, that was filled with long wooden tables covered in white linens and adorned with white and yellow wildflowers in vases.
Platters of roasted meats, fresh breads, and cheeses filled the tables, while a large roasting spit stood to one side, emanating the enticing scent of slow-cooked lamb.
Guests chattered and laughed, filling their seats as the pace of the bagpipers quickened, setting the scene for dancing.
“Let us dance first,” Moira beamed, “food can wait.”
“Aye,” Roderick said, noticing Edin coming toward them from the corner of his eye. “Although I think there is someone ye might like tae speak wi’ first.”
Moira swiveled around, and Roderick’s smile deepened as he watched her eyes widen with joy.
“Ye came!” She called, as Edin came closer, wrapping Moira into a tight hug.
“Aye,” she winked. “We’ve always been family have we nae? Ye really think I wouldnae join?”
Moira chuckled. “Ah, I thought ye’d be too busy, wi’ yer duties tae entertain travellin’ back here.”
“Aye,” Edin smiled. “Castle Strathcarron has been keepin’ me busy.”
“Och,” Moira joked. “Lady Strathcarron is it? It suits ye well, me friend.”
Edin laughed, “It has a ring tae it, Laird Fraser, wouldnae ye agree?”
Roderick opened his mouth to speak, but before he could Isobel came up behind them both.
“Let me see the bonnie bride,” she beamed, taking Moira’s hand in hers. “That green on ye is truly magnificent.”
“Thank ye, Isobel.”
“An’ who is this?” Isobel asked, smiling at Edin. “A friend o’ Moira’s? I’m so glad ye could make it!”
“Aye,” Edin said, nodding politely. “Lady Strathcarron, it is a pleasure.”
Roderick held in a breath, hoping his mother wouldn’t say anything that might lead to Edin blowing her cover.
“The bonnie bride,” Arabella called, coming toward them. “We must dance, fer the day is young, an’ a celebration awaits!”
Isobel turned to Roderick, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Aye, me son,” she said, her voice light and teasing, “will ye let us lasses dance wi’ yer bride? We promise tae give her back.”
“Of course, Maither,” he said, “but mak’ sure tae save a dance fer me.”
Moira shot Roderick a playful look as the women pulled her toward the dancing crowd. He looked on, watching them, warmed by the beating sun and a joyful contentment in his heart.
“A drink?” Cameron asked, coming up to him with a chalice in hand.
Roderick took the chalice from Cameron, his fingers brushing against the cool metal. He raised it slightly, meeting Cameron’s gaze. “A drink it is, then.”
Cameron grinned, lifting his own chalice in response. “Aye, ye seem content. Cannae say I blame ye, lad. Things seem to be goin’ well fer ye these days.”
“Aye,” Roderick responded as he sipped from his chalice. “We have enough grain tae feed our people, uprisings have calmed—there’s peace fer now at least. But I ken well a storm will always be brewin’.”
“Aye, but we must enjoy the summer while it lasts,” Cameron said. “There’s nay need tae fear a storm when ye have the perfect lass by yer side.”
“Wise words,” Roderick said. “It’ll be a lass fer ye next.”
Cameron chuckled. “Dinnae worry about me Roderick, today is yer day.”
“Today is a day fer castle Fraser,” he said. “An’ what would a day fer Castle Fraser be without a big feast.”
“Aye,” Cameron agreed, following Roderick as he led them both to the table. After some drinking and eating among his friends, Roderick excused himself, heading into the crowd. There he found Moira dancing merrily, her green dress swishing around her.
Her eyes sparkled as she saw him approaching.
“Lady Fraser,” he said, his words almost lost among the music and crowd. “May I have this dance?”
“That,” she beamed. “An’ so much more.”
As they edged closer to one another, Roderick took her into his arms, ready to lean in for a kiss before they were interrupted by a familiar voice.
“Sorry,” Malcolm said. “I dinnae mean tae interrupt.”
“Aye,” Moira smiled, her arms wrapped around Roderick as she leaned against his chest. “Malcolm, it seems we’ve been meetin’ like this too often.”
Malcolm laughed “I promise ye, I dinnae intend tae tak’ yer husband away from ye. I just wanted tae offer me congratulations tae ye both. Ye mak’ one fine couple, an’ I wish ye an abundance o’ prosperity goin’ forward.”
“Thank ye, Malcolm,” Roderick said. “We appreciate yer kind words. It means much comin’ from ye.”
Malcolm nodded. “I ken well that yer faither is watchin’ down on us from above—he’d be more than proud o’ the man ye’ve become.”
“Thank ye,” Roderick said, before Malcolm disappeared into the crowd.
Roderick liked to think that his father was looking down on him too, not just now, but every single day that he lead Castle Fraser as their laird.
Overwhelmed, yet strengthened by the love surrounding him, he raised Moira’s chin to meet his lips. “Now, where were we Lady Fraser?”
She smiled, her face inches from his. “Right here, where we should be.”
The End.
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