Epilogue
Logan-Six years later
If Lear could see us right now, I can only imagine he’d be watching us with pride. His daughter, the lass I’ve always wanted to be mine is now my wife. The mother of my five rambunctious bairns and the woman I’d walk to the end of the earth for.
“You already have,” Macbeth always says with a smile whenever I tell her that. She never went back to America, but married me a month later after we declared our love and stayed with me in the highlands. The day she married me was the happiest day of my life. We had a traditional Scottish wedding with a grand march and with me giving Macbeth a luckenbooth
It’s a silvery brooch engraved with two hearts and that she’s always wearing ever since to bring luck to our marriage and to never forget the love I have for. She’s home now and she’s stopped globetrotting, hunting for stories and instead she focuses on local stories now.
And she’s pretty damn successful too.
Right now she’s sitting by the fireplace, finishing her article that’s supposed to be printed in the local newspaper but the bairns are driving her crazy. Especially our oldest son who’s standing in the middle of the room, playing bagpipes.
The sound is migraine inducing, making Lear’s house that is now ours shake.
Throwing me a look, Macbeth sniggers, putting her hands over her ears and I decide to step in.
“Arite, ya little goblins, it’s time for bed,” I say, gathering them and picking them all up and a wave of protests break out. But I don’t give in, ushering them upstairs, exhaling when they finally settle down.
Looking at Macbeth as the fire plays over her features, I remember all those torturous night that I tossed and turned in my bed, thinking I would never have her. That I would be doomed to watch over her from the shadows but never speak to her, never touch her...
And now, I’m between her thighs every single damn night. Earning my prize for keeping my promise to Lear.
“Are ya done with work soon, lass?” I ask with my arms crossed and she gives me a quick glance, nodding.
“When are you leaving in the morning?” she asks and I look at the clock, telling her it’ll be about seven. Working for the Royal Guard means that we sometimes need to spend our days apart but I always hurry back home, my heart nailing deep into my soul whenever I see Macbeth waiting for me by the moors.
“Then we still have some time left,” she says and I stroke her hair away from her shoulder.
“What do you have in mind?” I ask and she nods at the rug in front of the fire, making my lips curl. “You want another bairn? Aye, I think I can help you with that.”
She laughs, the luckenbooth shimmering on her shirt as if winking and I know that we will be together always and forever.
The End