Andrew whooped.
But Eilidh had already buried her face in Kieran’s shoulder, sobbing her happy relief.
Epilogue
One year later
Eilidh smiled as she stepped on deck, the sun and sea air delivering a delicious double-punch to her senses.
The sails snapped in the warm breeze. A sailor called from high in the rigging. Someone else answered from below.
She crossed to the railing and looked out.
In the distance, Sydney Harbor was just coming into view, the windows of the Custom’s House gleaming in the sunlight.
It felt a bit like a homecoming.
“There is my wife,” a voice reached her from behind.
Eilidh turned as Kieran stopped at the rail beside her.
“Husband.” She gave him a doting look, noting for easily the millionth time that her husband was a devilishly handsome man. “Or rather, Captain MacTavish.”
Kieran slipped his hand into hers, smiling down at her. The look in his eyes said he wished they were below deck in their cabin or some other private place where he could lift her against his body and press a scandalous kiss to her mouth.
But as it was, he was the ship’s captain and needed to maintain propriety.
So for now, he settled for holding her hand.
“Are ye excited tae see Sydney again?” he asked.
“Of course. It will always be special to me. It holds beautiful memories. Did ye settle the matter with the cargo?”
“Aye.”
This was their first long trip with Kieran as captain.
In the end, they had decided to accept command of one of Andrew’s ships instead of managing the entire fleet.
Or . . . more like ‘avoided managing the whole fleet for a wee while,’ as Andrew had put it.
Kieran had wanted to return to sea, and Eilidh liked the idea of another voyage. As they had no children as of yet, such a journey made sense.
But this voyage was nothing like their first one together.
For one thing, Captain Cuthie was no longer a threat of any sort. He had been sentenced to five years hard labor for openly attacking the Judge Admiral.
For another, Eilidh was aboard ship openly as Kieran’s wife.
And yet another, she wore dresses and acted (more or less) like a lady this time around. She was still Eilidh, preferring to go by the name her mother had given her at birth.
Some aspects of being Jamie were forever a part of her, like her courage and risk-taking. But others she had shed, like her younger impulsiveness and resistance to discussing problems. She was not entirely Jamie or Eilidh, but somewhere in between. A woman who was more whole, more complete.
Alex had encouraged her to continue to talk through her memories with Kieran as a way of easing their hold on her. The advice had been helpful and as the months passed, the darkness and grief of her past had lifted. She was healing, slowly but surely.
Moments like this—holding Kieran’s hand, a fresh sea breeze tugging at her bonnet, a new land before her to explore—helped.
“Remember our promise to one another?” Eilidh asked him.
