Many things had happened since Donal had returned to Achadh na Cairidh, bringing with him Vanora as his new bride; things that Angus had found out through a copious number of letters that he, Donal, and Vanora exchanged.

After the passing of his father, Donal was now Laird Cameron. Donal had buried him next to Ronald, and he knew that eventually, he would join them, and he would see them once more, though he did worry about his mother, despite her insistence that she was doing quite well.

The first grandchild kept her quite busy, after all. Vanora had given birth to a baby boy a year after they got married, whom they called Ewen after Donal’s father, and Donal could have sworn that he had never seen his mother so happy before.

The boy was now soon approaching his first birthday, and Donal’s mother fawned and fussed over him every single day. Donal could only hope that his son would not end up getting spoiled, but he could already tell his hopes would eventually be crushed.

The only thing that gave him some peace of mind was that the three of them, he, Vanora, and their son, were just about to leave for Knapdale. It was time that Ewen met his other grandparents from his mother’s side, though there was a different reason why they were visiting.

Angus had told them, in his last letter that his father, the laird of the MacMillan clan, was dying. It was no surprise to anyone; the laird was in his later years, and he had lived a full life, but Donal and Vanora wanted to be there regardless, both for the laird and for Angus.

Donal had been apprehensive at first. He and Vanora had not told anyone yet, not even his mother and their closest family, but she was pregnant once again, though no one could tell over her petticoats and her skirts. Donal could only see a hint of a swell in her belly when she lay naked next to him, and that was more than enough to drive him to immediate panic every time that she had to travel for longer than the time it took for her to get to the kitchens.

Still, Vanora had gotten fed up with him, and so she had insisted that they traveled to Knapdale and, well…Donal could never tell her no.

That was how he found himself traveling with Vanora, little Ewen, and some of his clansmen, making the long trip to Knapdale, the entire time fussing over Vanora much more than she would like him to.

“Do ye think that Angus will find himself a nice lass?”

Vanora looked up from where she was watching Ewen nurse on her breast, frowning at Donal as though he had said something ridiculous, shaking her head at him.

“Weel…he will be the laird soon!” she said. “He must find a wife, dis he not? How else will he get an heir?”

“Ach, I dinnae ken,” Donal said. It was a thought that had been in his mind for a while, even though it probably was something that didn’t bother Angus himself at all. “What if he doesnae find anyone?”

Vanora shrugged, just a little so that she wouldn’t disturb Ewen. “What if he doesnae?” she said. “It isnae the end of the world, noo, is it?”

Before Donal could say anything else, Ewen decided that he had nursed enough, and so they continued with their journey.

Soon, they arrived in Knapdale, and once again, it looked just like Donal remembered it, though he supposed there couldn’t have been many changes in Castle Sween ever since he had last been there. The loch was beautiful as always—its calm, dark waters reflecting the equally calm sky, where the clouds passed like grazing sheep.

It was peaceful, Donal thought.

It remained so for about five seconds, before Mrs. Gallach ran towards them at full speed, only stopping when she saw Ewen in Vanora’s arms.

“Mo leanbh, what a handsome wee bairn ye are!” Mrs. Gallach said, getting a delighted giggle out of Ewen as a reply. “Ye look just like yer maw, dinnae ye?”

“I think he looks verra much like me, Mrs. Gallach,” Donal said, even though everyone said the same thing about Ewen. Donal was convinced they said he looked like Vanora only because of his dark locks, while they ignored the rest of his features—which, in Donal’s mind at least, were the same as his.

“I think ye canna see weel,” Mrs. Gallach said, but she did so with a grin on her face. “Come, ye twa…ye must be tired after all this traveling.”

“Aye,” Donal said, urging Vanora to follow the head housekeeper. “I’ll stay and help the men with the horses. Go and find Angus, and I’ll meet ye two inside.”

Vanora did as she was told, and Donal took a moment to look around the grounds of Castle Sween, breathing in deeply. The air there was the same as the air in Achadh na Cairidh, of course, but Donal, sentimental as he was, wanted to think that Castle Sween didn’t stink so much of manure.

As he helped his clansmen with the horses, settling everything and making sure their things went to the right places, a large mass tackled him, throwing him onto the ground and pinning him there. His face was suddenly caked with mud and other substances that Donal didn’t even want to think about, and he spat out a mouthful of hay that had found its way into his mouth.

Donal didn’t have to look over his shoulder to know who it was that had attacked him so suddenly.

“Is that what ye call a warm welcome?” he asked, as he struggled against Angus’ hold. The man had become stronger since the last time he had fought him, and it only fuelled Donal’s desire to beat him. “Ye havnae seen me in twa years!”

Angus laughed from where he sat on the small of Donal’s back, holding him down with his entire weight.

“Ye would do the same to me if I came tae Achadh na Cairidh,” he pointed out. “How have ye been, Donal? How’s yer lass?”

Donal hated how casual Angus sounded, as though he wasn’t thrashing beneath him. The man had made one big mistake, though; he had already fooled himself into thinking that he had won.

Donal bucked against him, hard enough to throw Angus off him, and he was back on his feet before the other man could stand. The two of them stared at each other, bending at the hips as they prepared to strike, both men huffing like a pair of bulls.

Donal pulled Angus into a hug, and Angus hugged him back tightly, patting his back. When they separated, they had matching grins on their faces.

“I’m verra weel now that yer off me, and Vanora is weel, too,” Donal said, before leaning in closer, whispering conspiratorially. “She’s with another bairn. No one kens yet, no one but us, but I wanted ye tae find out before anyone else.”

Angus gasped before his lips split into a grin so colossal that Donal feared his face would stretch out and remain like that forever.

“I always kent that ye’d have more bairns than ye can handle,” Angus said, giving Donal the kind of wink that made him blush furiously.

Donal dusted himself off, trying to look as presentable as possible after a scuffle in the mud, and the two of them made their way inside the castle, where Donal could only hope to have time to clean up before dinner.

“What about ye?” Donal asked him. “When will ye have bairns of yer own?”

Angus seemed to hesitate at that. He sucked his bottom lip under his teeth, biting down on it as he looked at Donal, and then shook his head softly.

“I willnae have any bairns, Donal,” he said. “After…weel, after everything, after Vika, I vowed tae never take a woman.”

Donal opened his mouth to speak, to try and talk some sense into Angus, but the other man held up a hand to stop him before continuing.

“Aye, I ken what ye’ll say,” he said. “I’ve heard it all…I’ll be a laird soon, and so I must take a wife, I must have an heir, I must, I must, I must—these people, the people of my clan, and ye and Vanora, yer all the family I need, Donal. I decided a long time ago that I willnae take a wife, and nothing ye can say will change my mind. It’s alright, it truly is. I dinnae wish to take a wife, and I am happy the way things are. There isnae any sense in fixing something that isnae broken.”

Donal couldn’t argue with that. Besides, Angus did seem perfectly happy with his life. Donal had no reason to think that he needed anything or anyone else to make him happy.

The two men parted ways when they got inside the castle, Angus going to tend to his father, and Donal going to clean himself up and change clothes before he would have to meet anyone else.

The following days reminded Donal of the time he had spent in Knapdale as a young lad, and even though they were all well into adulthood, he, Angus, and Vanora often acted like wee bairns, much to Mrs. Gallach’s disappointment and disapproval.

Donal didn’t care a bit.

Their antics only stopped a few days after their arrival, when the laird of the MacMillan clan was laid to rest, after a night of agitation and pain. Donal and Vanora stayed by Angus’ side the entire time, tending to his needs, though the man was not as shaken as Donal had once feared.

He had had time to digest the situation, after all, ever since his father had first fallen ill a few months prior.

Donal was glad that he could at least be there for Angus when his father passed. He was even more glad that he could be there when he was crowned the laird of the clan, Donal standing aside and watching proudly as the clansmen pledged their allegiance to him.

The feast in Angus’ honor was a thing of wonder, just like every feast that was organized by the capable hands of Mrs. Gallach. The tables overflowed with food and drink, towering plates of pork and beef, potatoes, and greens covering every inch available in the great hall.

Donal was sitting next to Angus and was already on his third cup of wine when he caught a glimpse of Vanora at the other end of the room. She had been late to the feast, tending to Ewen first, nursing him and putting him to sleep, but now she was there, and the sight of her gave Donal pause.

She was wearing the same dress as she did when she attended the feast that was thrown for Donal two years prior, the one that had made every man in the room beg her for a dance and a moment of her time. It was no different now, and Donal could see the way that the clansmen were staring at her, practically salivating as she walked across the room and took her seat next to Donal.

The only difference was that Donal would now kill them all if they so much as dared to ask Vanora to dance. He probably didn’t look very intimidating, though, when he stared at her too, mouth agape and eyes wide like saucers.

He couldn’t believe that the woman was his wife. Even now, after two years of being married to her, he couldn’t help but marvel at her beauty, at the contrast between her unmarred, pale skin and her dark, luscious locks, the pinch of her waist, the swell of her breasts at the neckline that scooped across her chest.

Donal recalled the comment that Angus had made a few days prior, and he couldn’t help but agree; they would end up having many more children than they would know what to do with.

“Ye might wish tae close yer mouth afore a fly gets in there,” Vanora said, and there it was, the difference between the woman he had seen two years ago and the woman that was married to him. Still, Donal couldn’t help but acknowledge the fact that his heart melted when she smirked at him.

“I dinnae think I can,” he said, teasing her right back. “Ye kept the dress.”

“Aye,” Vanora said with a small frown. “Of course, I did. Tis an expensive dress. Did ye think I’d throw it away?”

Donal didn’t know what it was, exactly, that he had thought since most thoughts had simply left his mind to leave space for the one that dominated everything else; that his wife was the most beautiful woman in the world.

“I dinnae think ye’d wear it again,” he managed to say, shrugging a little. “But I am glad that ye did.”

Donal spent the rest of the night dancing with Vanora and talking to Angus, celebrating his braw new title and promising him that he would be there, right by his side, no matter what. Anything that Angus could possibly need as a laird, Donal was prepared to help him with it.

The three of them celebrated until late at night, and Donal and Vanora only retired to their chambers when most of the clansmen were already asleep, passed out at their respective tables. Once in their rooms, Donal couldn’t help but tear that dress off her, lavishing her with all the attention in the world as she rocked over him, taking him inside her with a shuddering gasp.

Vanora fell asleep in his arms afterward, but Donal could not sleep. He spent endless time simply looking at her, at the bump in her belly that seemed to grow every single day, at the stretch of her gorgeous limbs. He caressed her gently, careful not to wake her.

When he heard Ewen cry from the adjacent room and felt Vanora stir against him, he pushed her back down on the bed and pressed a kiss on her forehead before heading to his son’s crib.

Donal took Ewen in his arms, laying the boy against his chest as he sat down next to the window. The first light of dawn was already visible in the horizon, bathing the room in a pale blue light, and Donal began to rock back and forth, hushing his boy until a few moments later, his cries ceased.

Donal returned to his chambers with Ewen still in his arms. He lay down next to his sleeping wife, placing his son on top of his chest, and he finally fell into a peaceful sleep.

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