Epilogue
Tower Rhydd
Summer, 1287
Trevin stretched and felt his wife’s body curling sensually against his. A cock crowed in the yard and already he heard sounds of the castle awakening. He’d learned to love his life here at Rhydd and a smile grew across his jaw, for he would spend the day hunting with Gareth.
The boy had survived his wounds and accepted Trevin as his father. With Muir and Boon as his constant companions, Gareth had gotten into his share of trouble, but no more than his father had years before.
He heard a giggle, then another, and lifted an eyelid. “Who goes there?” he demanded to a chorus of childish laughter. An impish blue-eyed face with a mop of dark curls poked from behind one side of the wardrobe, while a redhead—the spitting image of her mother—eyed him from the other side.
Twins! His twins.
“What are you two doing?” he demanded, his voice fierce. The girls weren’t afraid but ran forward, each throwing themselves upon him as he wrestled with them in the bed. With a yawn, Gwynn slowly opened her eyes.
“Get up! Up! Up!” they insisted.
“Demanding as your mother, you two are,” he teased.
“And stubborn as their father.” Gwynn hugged her girls and kissed their crowns.
Things had worked out well, he thought. The traitors had been dismissed, Hildy had married Henry and had come to Rhydd to be Gwynn’s maid, and Trevin had finally forgiven himself for loving her. He’d made his peace with Faith, but he was still troubled by the fact that he was Ian of Rhydd’s son.
He would not let himself dwell on it and concentrated, instead, on his own growing family.
“There ye be, ye little scamps!” Hildy scolded as she walked into the room. With her hands on her hips, she sighed and rolled her eyes. “Come along, now, and I’ll show ye how we gather eggs.”
“They’ll break them all,” Gareth said, sticking his head into room and skewering his father with an impatient look. “Are ye not coming? ‘Tis nearly light. Muir is waiting… or he was when I saw him last, although he said something about tasting from a new barrel.” Gareth shook his head and waved at his father to come hither. “We must hurry or he will not want to join us.”
“I’ll be along,” Trevin promised.
The girls, laughing, hurried away with Hildy fussing and muttering under her breath as she shepherded them down the hallway.
“I will wait for you at the stables. Come, Boon.” Gareth whistled for the hound, then left them alone. The door banged shut and they were alone for a few fleeting moments of peace.
Trevin reached for his wife. He kissed her neck and she snuggled against him.
“Have we time?” he asked, one hand cupping her breast.
She laughed deep in her throat. “I know not.” Her eyes danced as she reached for him. “But I think if you are a true man, you can be quick to satisfy a lady, can you not?”
“I can only try,” he said, teasing her nipple with his thumb.
“Then try, thief,” she suggested as she kissed his lips and melted against him. “Try very, very hard.”