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Was there a part that bored or that you didn't really like in the book?

Even a character, a scene, or anything. You could say no if nothing bothered you.

Which was the part you liked most in the book?

Even a character, a scene, or anything that you enjoyed.

I’d want the next villain to be... *

• A ruthless rival laird
• A jealous former suitor
• A traitor inside the clan
• A vengeful brother

Which secret would you most like the heroine to be hiding? *

• Her true identity
• A dangerous inheritance
• A forbidden skill
• A connection to the enemy clan

Anything else you'd like to share?

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One Year Later

The castle had never looked so beautiful.

Ishbel stood at the Great Hall window, watching the approach of the small party riding up the winding path from the harbor. Even from this distance, she could make out the familiar shapes—her father’s broad shoulders on his great warhorse, her mother’s straight-backed posture on her mare, and behind them, three smaller figures bouncing with barely contained excitement.

Katherine. Fiona. Iseabail.

Her sisters.

Her heart clenched so tightly she thought it might burst.

“Ye’re going tae wear a hole in the stone if ye keep pacing.”

She turned at the sound of his voice. Seamus stood in the doorway, their son cradled in his arms. The sight of him—this fierce, powerful man holding their tiny child with such infinite tenderness—still made her heart stutter after all those months.

Little Angus, named for her father, blinked sleepily at his mother, his grey eyes (his father’s eyes, already so full of light) soft with the drowsiness of a recent nap.

“I’m nae pacing,” she protested. “I’m… observing.”

He crossed to her, a smile tugging at his lips. “Ye’ve been ‘observing’ fer an hour. They’ll be here soon enough.”

She leaned into him, pressing a kiss to the soft down on their son’s head. He smelled of lavender soap and warm milk and everything good in the world.

“I want everything tae be perfect,” she admitted. “They’ve never seen him and they haven’t seen us since the wedding. What if they think I’ve changed? What if they dinnae recognize me?”

Seamus shifted the baby to one arm and wrapped the other around her waist, pulling her close.

“Ye’re their sister,” he said simply. “Their daughter. Nothing could change that. And they’ll love Angus because he’s part of ye. That’s how families work.”

She looked up at him, at the man who had given her everything, and felt tears prick at her eyes.

“When did ye become so wise?”

He grinned. “I’ve always been wise. Ye just werenae listening.”

She laughed and swatted his chest, but the sound was cut short by a commotion from the courtyard below.

They had arrived.

Ishbel barely remembered crossing the room. One moment she was at the window; the next, she was standing in the courtyard, the sea wind whipping at her skirts, her heart pounding so hard she could hear it in her ears.

Her father dismounted first. Laird Angus Hume looked older than she remembered—greyer, wearier—but when his eyes found her, his face broke into a smile that made him look twenty years younger.

“Ishbel.” His voice was rough with emotion. “Me daughter.”

She flew into his arms, and he caught her, holding her as tightly as he had when she was a child.

“Faither,” she whispered, tears streaming down her face. “I’ve missed ye so much.”

He held her at arm’s length, studying her face. “Ye look well. Happy. That’s all I ever wanted fer ye.”

Behind him, her mother was descending from her horse with the help of a groom. Lady Elspeth’s eyes were already wet, and when Ishbel turned to her, they collapsed into each other’s arms.

“Me brave girl,” Elspeth whispered. “Me brave, beautiful girl.”

And then the dam broke.

Katherine was first—of course she was—launching herself at Ishbel with a cry that was half laugh, half sob. Fiona followed more slowly, her quiet smile speaking volumes. And little Iseabail, who had grown so much in a year and a half, hung back for just a moment before running forward and wrapping her arms around Ishbel’s waist.

“Ye’re really here,” Iseabail breathed. “Ye’re really, really here.”

Ishbel knelt, gathering her youngest sister into her arms. “I’m here, little one. I’m here.”

For a long moment, the Hume women held each other, crying and laughing and talking all at once. It was Katherine who finally pulled back, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Well? Are ye going tae keep him hidden all day, or are we going to meet our nephew?”

Ishbel laughed, wiping her tears. “He’s inside. With his faither.”

She led them into the Great Hall, where Seamus waited by the hearth, little Angus in his arms. The firelight played over them both, father and son, and Ishbel’s heart swelled at the sight.

Her mother gasped softly. “Oh, Ishbel. He’s beautiful.”

Seamus crossed to them, and with a tenderness that made Ishbel’s eyes prickle again, he placed their son in her mother’s waiting arms.

“Lady Elspeth,” he said quietly, “may I present yer grandson, Angus Scott.”

Elspeth’s face crumpled. She held the baby close, tears streaming down her cheeks, murmuring soft Gaelic endearments that Ishbel had not heard since childhood.

Her father approached, his weathered hand reaching out to touch the baby’s cheek with infinite gentleness.

“He has yer eyes,” Angus said to Seamus, his voice gruff with emotion. “And yer stubbornness, if the way he fights sleep is any indication,” he said, turning towards his daughter.

Seamus laughed. “Aye. He gets that from his maither.”

Ishbel shot him a look. “I am nae stubborn.”

“Ye once argued with a woman fer an hour about the price of a bolt of silk.”

“She was overcharging me!”

The familiar banter broke the tension, and soon the hall was filled with laughter and chatter. Servants brought food and drink. Later, when the meal was finished and the wine was flowing, Ishbel found herself on the battlements with her sisters.

The night was clear and cold, the stars scattered across the sky like diamonds. Below them, the village sparkled with lights—new homes, new hope, new life.

“It’s so beautiful here,” Fiona said softly, leaning on the stone wall. “I didn’t expect it tae be so beautiful.”

“Neither did I,” Ishbel admitted. “When I first came, I thought it was cold and grey and terrible. But now…” She looked out at the harbor, at the lights, at the home she had built. “Now I can’t imagine being anywhere else.”

Katherine nudged her. “That’s because ye’re in love.”

Ishbel laughed. “That’s part of it.”

Iseabail tugged at her sleeve. “Can we see the baby again? Before we go tae sleep?”

“Of course.” Ishbel gathered her youngest sister into a hug. “He’s yer nephew. Ye can see him whenever ye want.”

In the nursery, little Angus slept peacefully in his cradle, unaware of the drama and love that surrounded him. Katherine and Fiona leaned over him, whispering and giggling. Iseabail stood on tiptoe, trying to see.

Ishbel watched them from the doorway, her heart so full it ached.

Seamus appeared beside her, sliding an arm around her waist.

“Happy?” he murmured.

She leaned into him. “More than I ever thought possible.”

He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Good.”

They stood there for a long moment, watching their son sleep, watching her sisters marvel at him, listening to the distant sounds of her parents laughing in the Great Hall.

“This is our life now,” Ishbel whispered. “Family. Love. Home.”

“It is.” He turned her to face him, his grey eyes soft in the candlelight. “And I would nae change a single thing.”

She rose on her toes and kissed him—soft, sweet, full of promise.

She thought of everything that had brought her here. The ball where she had first seen him across the crowded room. The hidden chamber where he had danced with her and changed everything. The storm at sea, the cold castle, the slow, terrifying, wonderful process of falling in love with a man who had seemed untouchable.

She thought of the fire, and the fear, and the moment she had been certain she would die—only to have her love appear through the flames like a miracle.

She thought of the life that had grown inside her, now sleeping in his cradle, his tiny chest rising and falling with each peaceful breath.

And she thought of the future—of first steps and first words, of scraped knees and bedtime stories, of watching her son grow into a man with his father’s courage and his mother’s heart.

Ishbel leaned her head against Seamus’s shoulder, and he pressed a kiss to her hair.

“What are ye thinking?” he asked quietly.

She smiled, her eyes still on their son.

“That this is nae an ending,” she whispered. “It’s only the beginning.”

The End.

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