Giselle perched next to him, astounded. Why did he think that? Cook wouldn’t have said anything, and apart from Izzy, she was the only person who—
Actually…
‘Did Claire tell you?’ she demanded. She’d encountered Claire on the stairs as she’d hurried out of Rocco’s room this morning, dazed and shocked by Cook’s comment. The woman must have overheard.
‘She told Beverly, and Beverly asked me. Is it true?’
‘No, it’sIzzywho’s pregnant.’ Giselle hesitated. So that’s why he’d come racing back, because he thought she was carrying his child. And he didn’t look happy about it, despite kissing her as though he would never let her go. ‘Would you be horrified if I were?’ she asked.
He shook his head. ‘I’d be thrilled.’
Giselle chewed her lip before deciding to tell him how she felt. She didn’t want any secrets in their relationship.
‘I did think I might be pregnant. I had many of the signs,’ she explained. ‘Which was strange, since Izzy didn’t. She didn’t even suspect she was, but when I did a test and it was negative, she did one, and lo and behold…’ Giselle smiled wryly. ‘Trust her to send all her morning sickness my way.’
‘Where is she?’
‘On her way home. She has something to tell her fiancé. And I’ve got something to tell you. But first, I want to say that I wasn’t thrilled when I thought I might be having a baby. I was horrified, actually. Not at the prospect of being a mother, or having a baby withyou,’ she added hurriedly, seeing the dismay on his face. ‘It’s just that I don’t want to bring up a child in London, even if Holland Park is posh. I want my baby to be born here, on Skye, to have the childhood I had. I still want that for any children I might have –wemight have. I don’t want to live in London, Rocco. I want to stay here.’
‘Are you saying you won’t come and live with me?’
‘I’m not saying that at all. I want to be wherever you are, and if that’s London, then so be it.’ She shuffled closer. ‘But if – when – we have children, I really want to raise them on Skye.’
Rocco was grinning. ‘I’ve left London for good,’ he said. ‘I don’t need a high-powered job or a castle to be happy – I needyou. I love you with everything I have and everything I am, and if I have to live in a shed, I’ll be happy as long as you’re by my side.’
‘I love you more than you’ll ever know,’ she replied softly, her heart swelling so much she thought she might cry. And when he kissed her again, she knew her heart belonged to Rocco and her soul lived on Skye, and dreams really do come true.
Epilogue
Eight months later
The castle’s great hall was packed. Rocco hadn’t wanted to mark the occasion with a ceremony but Giselle had insisted, and as she stood at the front of the gathering, a glass of whisky in her hand, she was glad she had.
This was a historic moment for the castle, another chapter in its long and varied history. She would have loved for her sister and her new husband, Edoardo, to be here, but with the very recent arrival of baby Alessandro, they were otherwise occupied. Her parents were here, though, and she shot them a radiant smile.
Her dad raised his glass and winked at her. He and Rocco had hit it off immediately, and Giselle’s mum thought he was lovely. This was only going to be a flying visit, however, because tomorrow they were off to Milan to meet their tiny grandson. Giselle and Rocco had planned their own trip to see him in a couple of weeks’ time.
Beverly was also here, and hers was a flying visit too, which Giselle was thankful for. Rocco and his mother had made their peace with each other, but Giselle didn’t think she and Beverly would ever be best friends. Still, the woman was here to support Rocco, and that was the important thing.
As for the rest of the people assembled today, everyone was thrilled that the castle would remain in Rocco’s capable hands, thanks to Historic Environment Scotland. The documents (and there had been many of them, reams and reams) had all been signed, apart from one final set of signatures. And that’s what was happening today.
Giselle’s hand crept up to her throat, where the red sea glass heart hung on a silver chain. Rocco had arranged for it to be made into a necklace for her, and she wore it often.
Her gaze was on Rocco now. Looking incredibly handsome in his dark navy suit and the crispest of white shirts, he was standing behind an antique table. His hair was longer, his face considerably more tanned than it had been when he’d first come to Duncoorie. Despite the suit, he was more like the man she’d met in Venice, than the corporate version she’d locked eyes with in the graveyard on the day of Mhairi’s funeral.
She wished Mhairi was here to see this. The old lady would have been delighted that her beloved castle had survived its latest battle.
Cal, who was overseeing today’s proceedings, called for silence, standing in front of the table in his kilt, hose and sgian-dubh, only the hilt of the dagger visible since the blade was tucked into the hose on his right leg.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he began. ‘Thank you for being here to witness this historic day for Coorie Castle, although I suspect most of you are here only for the whisky.’ He picked up one of the tumblers of amber liquid on the table and held it aloft before replacing it. ‘Your presence is still appreciated, as long as you don’t have too many drams. And don’t you dare drink yours yet, Mackenzie Burns – it’s for the toast.’
Laughter followed when Mack shouted, ‘Get on with it, man. I’m parched!’
Cal’s smile was wide as he turned to the four people standing behind the table. ‘Rocco, would you please sign on the dotted line?’
Giselle’s heart was full of love and pride as she watched Rocco pick up Mhairi’s fountain pen and sign his name with a flourish.
Cal said, ‘And now you, Mr Booth.’
