The Cameron keep was a sight to behold. Ishbel had never visited it before, and seeing it for the first time made her gasp, her lips stretching into a smile.

Angus smiled when he saw her own smile, wondering if he would ever get tired of seeing the beauty of it, though he doubted that he could ever get tired of anything relating to Ishbel.

“This is it, lass,” he told her as the two of them stepped off their carriage, Angus helping her by taking her hand in his.

Ever since Ishbel’s belly had grown a little, she had been finding it difficult to enter, and exit and carriage, and Angus couldn’t blame her. He didn’t know what he would do if he would have to walk around with that kind of weight in his stomach, and just the thought of it made him glad that he wasn’t the one who had to be pregnant.

He still felt sorry for Ishbel, though, and he wished he could take away her pain every time that her back or her feet would ache, or when the morning sickness would kick in, leaving her nauseous for hours every day.

Thankfully, it had been a while since she had had any morning sickness, and their trip to the Cameron keep had been rather pleasant. It helped that it was a short trip, after all, and it also helped that Ishbel was excited to not only travel but also to finally see Vanora again.

It had been years since the two of them had last met each other, after all, and Angus was happy that they would finally have a chance to catch up.

Before the two of them could take more than a few steps, Donal and Vanora appeared by the castle’s entrance, rushing to greet them, Vanora holding their youngest, Ewen, in her arms, while their first-born, Ronald, ran excitedly behind them.

Both of them stopped dead in their tracks, though, when they saw Ishbel, and Angus couldn’t help but laugh at the shocked, stunned look on their faces.

“Ye didnae tell us that yer expecting a bairn!” Vanora shrieked, partly excited and partly exasperated with Angus. “Ishbel! Yer with bairn!”

“Yes, I know!” Ishbel said, laughing softly as Vanora approached her, pressing a kiss on her cheek since she didn’t have a free arm to embrace her.

“I wanted it to be a surprise for ye,” Angus said with a small shrug. “So I didnae tell ye in me letters.”

“A little warning would have been nice, Angus,” Vanora scolded him, but the smile on her lips made her seem much less threatening than she sounded. “Weel . . . the important thing is that we ken noo. Come, Ishbel . . . it’s so verra nice to see ye, but ye must be tired and hungry. Come, I’ll have the servants prepare some food for ye.”

“What about me?” Angus asked with a pout, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Ye get nothing for what ye did,” Vanora teased, before she and Ishbel disappeared into the castle, leaving Angus and Donal alone.

The two of them looked at each other for a few moments before they pulled each other into a hug, patting each other’s back.

“Congratulations, lad,” Donal told him. “I see ye and Ishbel have been verra busy. It hasnae been that long since ye married.”

“As if ye waited with Vanora,” Angus reminded him, and the two of them burst into laughter. “How are ye, Donal?”

“I’m good, Angus, I’m verra good,” Donal said. “Tired, always running after me lads, sometimes trying to rule . . . ye ken how it is,” he joked. “Or ye will soon, once ye’ll have a bairn of yer own.”

Angus had been excited since the very first moment that he had found out about Ishbel’s pregnancy. He couldn’t stop thinking about it, and he couldn’t stop smiling, but when Donal uttered those words, he couldn’t help but feel as though there was a weight on his chest, preventing him from breathing.

Donal must have noticed, Angus thought, as he put a hand on his shoulder, looking at him with a small, concerned frown.

“Are ye alright, lad?” Donal asked him.

“Aye.” Angus nodded, a hand coming up to rub at his chest. “I just realized that I’ll be a father soon. Donal . . . I dinnae ken anything about bairns. How will I be a father if I dinnae ken anything? How did ye do it?”

Donal laughed at that, and he began to lead Angus inside the castle, where Angus could hopefully get a drink like he wished he would, anything to take the edge off, to make him stop panicking so much about something that was still so far away.

“I didnae ken anything,” Donal admitted. “I dinnae think I ken anything the noo, either, but it’s alright, Angus. Ye dinnae have to ken anything to raise a bairn because ye’ll have all the help that ye need. Dinnae ye worry . . . I’m sure ye’ll be a good father.”

“How do ye ken?” Angus asked, just as Donal took him to the kitchens and shoved a cup of wine in his hands, as though he had read his mind. Angus gulped it down gratefully, and when he was finished with it, he pushed his cup towards Donal, so that the man could pour him another.

It took Angus a moment to realize that every servant in the kitchen had stopped working and was staring at them, instead, but when he did, he grabbed Angus by the sleeve and dragged him back outside.

The last thing he needed was for everyone in the castle to talk about how he was terribly anxious at the mere thought of becoming a father.

“I ken because yer good at everything else,” Donal said. “I ken because yer a good friend, a good Laird, and ye’ll be a good father, too. And if nay, weel . . . then Ishbel will be a good enough parent for the both of ye.”

Angus knew that Donal was merely joking, but he didn’t even want to think about the possibility that he would be anything less than exceptional at being a father. He wanted his child to grow up surrounded with all the love that it could have, and he supposed that just that would be a good start at making him a good father.

Perhaps he shouldn’t worry so much, he thought, though it could simply be the wine talking.

“Listen, Angus . . . if I can manage with two wee lads, then ye’ll manage just fine, too,” Donal assured him, but then he paused, humming to himself. “Unless they’re twins. Then I canna help ye.”

“Thank ye for yer kind words, Donal, but perhaps we should talk about something that isnae as terrifying as this,” Angus said, wiping some cold sweat off his forehead. After his request, he and Donal began to talk about anything and everything, from their clansmen and women to Donal’s own children, and how much Ronald had already grown. They reminisced about the times when they would train under Cormag, the two of them, along with Ronald, causing as much chaos as they could when they were younger, and about the times that Euan would call Angus a fool.

Then, just as they were on their sixth cup of wine, Angus decided to talk about something that perhaps he shouldn’t have brought up at all. It was something that had kept him awake several nights, though, something that had him tossing and turning in his sleep, unable to find solace.

“Did I ever tell ye what Vika told me before she died?” Angus asked Donal, only to have him scoff at him for even bringing her up. “Nay, nay . . . Donal, listen to me. It’s important. Did I ever tell ye?”

Donal shrugged a shoulder, stalling by taking a sip of his drink. “I dinnae ken,” he said. “Ye told me many things about her that day.”

“Aye, aye . . .  but did I tell ye that she said she had secrets?” Angus asked. Even then, even as he spoke to Donal about it, he couldn’t help but shiver, a chill running down his spine at the thought of what she could have done.

“She had many secrets, Angus,” Donal reminded him. “Even her true self was a secret. I’m nay surprised that she had more.”

“She said that I would never ken all of her secrets,” Angus said, remembering back to that day. He had never managed to find out anything else, and if Vika had told the truth, then her secrets were well-kept. “What could she mean, Donal? Do ye think . . . do ye think that she’s still a threat?”

“How can she be a threat?” Donal asked. “She’s dead, Angus. She’s been dead for a long time, there is nothing that a dead lass can do to ye.”

“Nay, nay her, but ye saw what she did to Hamish,” Angus reminded him. “She controlled his every move. What if she had someone else, some like him, who would do anything that she would ask of him, even after she was gone?”

Donal stayed quiet for a long time, but Angus wished that he would say something, anything to stop the panic that was rising like bile up his throat. Talking about it out loud was somehow worse than thinking about it, and Angus found himself breathing faster, his breaths turning shallow and labored until Donal gave him a gentle pat on the back.

“Ye may be right,” Donal admitted. “Or ye may be wrong. She may have been lying, too, ye ken. Perhaps she had no other secrets, and she only said that so that she could torment ye even after her death. I am almost certain that was her last secret . . . that she had no other secrets, and that she only said that to torture ye, to make ye think about her every day. Dinnae give her satisfaction, Angus. She isnae worth even one thought.”

Angus found himself breathing easier, then. Donal was right, he thought, he must have been. Angus had been cautious once, but after Vika’s escape and her subsequent manipulation of Hamish, he was almost paranoid, taking every precaution that he could think of just so that he would never find himself bound to Vika’s sick games again.

The more he thought about her, the more power he gave her. Angus didn’t want her to have any power over him anymore, and the only way that he could make sure that would happen was by erasing her from his life, from his memory entirely. As long as he didn’t think about her and everything that she could have done to him if she were still alive, then there was nothing that the mere memory of her could do to him.

Vika was gone. She was dead, and she would never hurt him or his family again. It was something that Angus would have to repeat to himself until he wouldn’t have to anymore until the words were imprinted in his mind.

It was rather strange for him to think that Vika was finally gone for good, never to return. She had been in his periphery for so long, always lurking around a corner, always waiting for an opportunity to strike. Angus had learned to be careful with her, but now he didn’t have to be careful anymore. He could be carefree, instead, and he could finally enjoy his life without worrying that something or someone would ruin it. He could finally enjoy his time with his family, his friends, and his clan without glancing behind his shoulder every now and then, just to reassure himself that everyone was safe.

“Are ye still thinking about her?” Donal asked with a sigh. “Let it go, lad. Let her go.”

And so, Angus did. He drew in a deep breath, and then he exhaled, and just like that, he decided to stop worrying so much.

“Weel . . . shall we go join our wives before they come looking for us?” Angus asked. He had already missed Ishbel, if he were honest with himself, as the two of them had been attached to the hip ever since she had fallen pregnant. Angus hated leaving her out of his sight, and he had even noticed that his hands were always on her those days, stroking her hair or resting on her belly.

He was certain that Donal would joke about it, but he was also certain that he had been the same, too, when Vanora had been pregnant.

“Let’s go.”

Angus stood and stretched his limbs, which were aching after the long travel. Then, he followed Donal to the gardens, where Ishbel and Vanora were sitting, laughing, and chatting as Ronald ran around them excitedly.

Angus’ gaze fell on his wife. She seemed to be glowing under the afternoon sun, her smile blinding, and her gaze magnetic when it fell on him.

He had nothing to worry about; he had the perfect life and the perfect wife.

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