Epilogue
Gu Bràth Manor, Hampstead
June 1824
“Tell me how your heart startin’ beatin’ again, Papa.” Ivy MacQuarrie climbed up into Alec’s lap at his study desk.
He was so engrossed in the Stockton and Darlington Railway papers before him that he hadn’t even heard the door open.
He ruffled the top of the little imp’s head. “I’m certain you could tell me the story since you’ve heard it so many times, lass.”
“But it’s better when you tell it,” she insisted the way only a five-year-old can.
Alec lifted his daughter’s hand to his mouth and placed a kiss on her palm. “After you’ve finished playing with your friends, I’ll tell you the tale again, Ivy. Now run along.”
She tipped her head back to see him better, and her brown curls bobbed over her shoulders. “But Lia keeps tellin’ me what ta do, and I doona want ta play anymore.”
That was hardly surprising. Alec chuckled. Lady Aurelia Thorpe was just as haughty as her mother had been all those years before. Perhaps more so. The future seer was spoiled rotten by her father. “I am sorry, my little sprite. Let’s go see how much longer your mother and the others are going to be, shall we?”
Ivy nodded and hopped back to the floor. Alec pushed from his seat and took his daughter’s hand.
“Mama’s probably tired anyway.”
Sorcha had been awfully tired as of late. She hadn’t been getting enough sleep and was doting on her plants more than usual. He’d have to find out what that was about, but for now he turned his attention back to his daughter and her five-year-old problems. “Have you ever thought of teaming up with Lucien, Ivy? Aurelia never tells him what to do.” At least he’d never seen the little witch dictate orders to her twin brother.
Alec led Ivy toward the orangery where Sorcha and the other witches were convened.
His beautiful daughter looked up at him and wrinkled her nose like she smelled something bad. “He’s a boy,” she replied, as though Alec had suggested she throw in her lot with the French.
“That he is,” Alec agreed. “Don’t know what I was thinking.”
They entered the orangery, and immediately the five witches rose to their feet. Only Sorcha was able to meet Alec’s gaze. What was that about? “Hope we’re not disturbing you,” he said, stepping closer to the coven.
“I need ta be on my way anyway.” Cait rushed past him.
“Are Lia and Lucien still in the nursery?”
Alec looked down at his daughter and she nodded.
“Apparently so. Do send our regards to Eynsford.”
“Ye can tell him yerself,” Cait tossed over her shoulder.
“Since ye’ll be our guests at The Park next week.”
Now Alec knew why none of the others had met his eyes.
He glanced at his wife. “Are we headed to Kent, love?”
Sorcha nodded her head. “We have a bit of Còig business ta attend ta.”
So everyone was going, were they? Alec shrugged. Truth be told, he’d found a camaraderie with Eynsford, Kettering, Blodswell, and his old friend Westfield somewhere along the way, and he couldn’t imagine his life without all of the witches and their husbands. “Then, I suppose we’ll have a grand time.”
Elspeth, Blaire, and Rhiannon slid past him, muttering their farewells, and Alec and Ivy walked farther into the orangery to where Sorcha still stood rooted to the floor. Her brown eyes sought out Alec’s and she smiled. “Cait gave me a glimpse of the future.”
Alec frowned. “That’s against the rules.”
Ivy dropped his hand and wrapped her arms around Sorcha’s legs. “What did she say, Mama?”
Sorcha winked at their daughter. “She said it’s high time we got ye a governess, lass.”
Ivy’s mouth dropped open. “But, Nurse—” she started to protest.
“Nurse will have her hands full.”
Alec’s mouth went dry. “Her hands will be full?” The meaning of those words touched his soul. “Are you saying you’re expecting, Sorcha?”
“Expectin’ what?” Ivy demanded, and at the same time Sorcha nodded her head.
Alec pulled her into his embrace and buried his face in her apple blossom-scented hair. “Oh, love, are you feeling all right? Is that why you’ve been so tired?”
Sorcha pulled back to looked at him, her radiant smile making him fall in love with her all over again. “A boy.”
“A boy?” Ivy echoed. “A boy what?”
Sorcha looked down at their precocious daughter. “I’m goin’ ta have a bairn, Ivy. Ye’re goin’ ta be a big sister.”
Ivy’s nose scrunched up again. “A boy?”
Alec laughed as he scooped up the tiny lass in his arms.
“Of course, a boy. We already have such a delightful girl.”
Ivy giggled as he tickled her. “Papa!”
“Let’s retire to the nursery, lass, and I’ll tell you that story again.”
Ivy nodded. “Mama, too.”
Sorcha wrapped her arm around Alec’s waist and pressed a kiss to Ivy’s forehead. “What story are we ta hear, lass?”
“The one where ye made Papa’s heart beat again.”
“My favorite of them all.” Then Sorcha rose on her toes and kissed Alec’s chin.
About the Author
Lydia Dare is a pseudonym for the writing team of Tammy Falkner and Jodie Pearson. Both are active members of the Heart of Carolina Romance Writers and Romance Writers of America. Their writing process involves passing a manuscript back and forth, each one writing 1,500 words after editing the other’s previous installment. Jodie specializes in writing the history and Tammy in writing the paranormal. They live near Raleigh, North Carolina.