L iam and Ellie Lockhart had no more children after the birth of Duncan, but Anna Lockhart was delivered of a baby girl on February 2, 1819. The following year, she and Grif had another girl, and Talla Dileas was thriving with children and wealth again.
In 1820, having completed their grand tour of Europe and America while Grif looked after Eilean Ros, Mared Douglas gave birth to twin boys. Her husband could not have been more delighted. In 1822, she bore Payton a stillborn daughter, but in 1824, she bore him a healthy boy. In 1825 and 1826, respectively, she bore him two more children, another son and a daughter, who became the apple of her father’s eye.
Eilean Ros, the big rambling Georgian mansion on the banks of Loch Ard, was, at long last, filled with laughter and love and the sound of many children.
In 1828, the Douglas and Lockhart lands were at last united, and the region surrounding Loch Ard and Loch Chon did indeed became renowned for its sheep and its Highland cattle. In 1830, the first batch of Eilean Ros Whiskey, aged ten years, was distributed to America and Europe with great success. That was the same year that Natalie Lockhart returned to London and made her successful debut there. She became a renowned artist, her work desperately sought after among the highest echelons of London society.
On Christmas Eve 1831, the green salon of Eilean Ros was decorated with mistletoe and a dozen stockings hung by children awaiting Father Christmas. On the sideboard, a large, half-eaten platter of plum pudding was next to an even larger—and emptier—bowl of wassail. The sound of children laughing and shrieking with pleasure echoed up and down the long corridors of Eilean Ros.
All the Lockharts and Douglases were in attendance; even Natalie had come home. Anna was at the pianoforte, leading a rousing chorus of all their favorite Christmas hymns. Mared sat on the divan with their daughter, Lilias, who, having foregone the benefit of a nap earlier, was becoming quite cross and weary at the long day’s end.
Payton stood at the mantel, watching the raucous family gathering, his heart filled to the brim with happiness. This was precisely what he’d always wanted for Eilean Ros—laughter, warmth, and love. So much love. He was a fortunate man. He had four healthy, robust sons, a beautiful daughter, and the most beautiful wife God ever divined.
He looked at Mared, singing to her daughter. She was a little rounder now, and there was a bit of gray in her long black hair, but nevertheless, in his eyes, she was perfect. It seemed to him that her beauty deepened with age, gave it a rich character. And it was precisely that beauty that he’d endeavored to capture for all eternity. Which was why he held up his hand and called for Anna to stop playing the pianoforte, so that he might share his gift to Mared with her entire clan.
“If I might have a moment, I have something I would show ye,” he said and motioning for Natalie to join him, walked to the corner of the room, where his gift was draped. The children scampered after him, anxious to see the gift.
“Really, Payton,” Mared said laughingly, “ye’ve made quite a production of hiding whatever the thing is. Would ye end it all now?”
“Hush, now, woman, and come here,” he said with a grin, holding his hand out to her. Mared rolled her eyes, but nevertheless handed Lilias to her grandmamma, and joined Payton as she exchanged looks and bits of laughter with her brothers.
When she reached him, she slipped her arm around his waist and kissed his cheek. “All right, then, sir, here I am. Whatever do ye have behind there?”
“Do ye recall the day I made ye sit for a pocket portrait?” he asked her, touching her nose with his knuckle.
“Aye.”
“And do ye recall that I insisted I meet Natalie in Glasgow when she returned from London?”
“Of course!” Mared said, and winked at a beaming Natalie.
Payton grabbed the drape and yanked it. Mared and her family gasped as the drape fell away, for behind it was a six-foot portrait of Mared, intended for the family gallery.
“It’s Mummy!” one of their twins exclaimed. “And us, too!”
Mared looked up at Payton, wonder in her eyes.
He grinned. “Our Natalie is a gifted artist,” he said, as Liam, practically blubbering with pride, grabbed his daughter up and hugged her tightly.
It was, Payton thought, a most regal picture. He’d been very pleased with the result; Natalie had done a remarkable job.