Dark Christmas: Epilogue I

I stand in my chambers, my hand resting on the swell of my belly.

It’s been three months since the duke was killed in battle, since I learned I was carrying his child.

The baby is growing, big and strong, and though the thought of becoming a mother fills me with joy, it’s overshadowed by the unrelenting grief of losing my love. My heart aches for him more and more each day. It feels as though the castle itself is mourning his absence—cold and empty, despite its grandeur.

A sharp knock at the door pulls me from my reverie. I already know who it is before I answer.

Count Blackmoor.

He steps inside, tall and imposing, his sharp features framed by dark, shoulder-length hair. His eyes are cunning—a predator sizing up his prey. There’s no doubt he’s handsome but there’s something deeply unsettling about him. His smile never quite reaches his eyes, and I can sense the malevolence behind every word.

‘My lady,’ he says smoothly, his voice like silk. ‘How are you faring today?’ His tone drips with false concern.

I narrow my eyes; I know exactly what game he’s playing. With the duke gone, Count Blackmoor is next in line to inherit the estate, and by his calculations, he hopes to win my hand in marriage as part of the bargain.

‘I’m managing,’ I reply cooly, though my heart races with unease.

His eyes flicker down to my belly, his smile widening ever so slightly. I’ve been able to hide my condition up to this point with loose-fitting clothing, but rumors are already swirling, and soon the secret of my pregnancy will be the talk of the estate.

‘I’m sure you do.’

He steps further into the room, his polished boots soundless against the stone floor. He makes himself comfortable, uninvited, on the edge of my bed. I tense at the sight, my fingers instinctively pressing against my belly as if to shield the life growing inside.

‘My lady,’ he begins, his voice calculating, ‘I understand the grief that has consumed you in the wake of the duke’s passing. You are in a… delicate state, and it is only natural to feel overwhelmed.’

I bite my lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much his words sting. He knows nothing of my grief, only the opportunity it presents.

‘But,’ he continues, leaning in slightly, his dark eyes glinting, ‘you must think practically. You are pregnant, and the eyes of the kingdom are upon you. There is a certain… expectation for how you must conduct yourself, especially now. I’m offering you a way out, a solution.’ He smiles, the expression as cold as winter. ‘Marry me, and I will ensure the safety of your child. We can silence any whispers of scandal. I will look after you both.’

His words coil around me like a serpent. I know Count Blackmoor well enough to understand that his offer of protection is a farce. He’d find a way to eliminate my child, the duke’s heir, the moment he could. He’s not a man to leave loose ends—especially not when it involves a threat to his inheritance.

I refuse his proposal.

Count Blackmoor’s face darkens at my rejection, though he tries to mask his frustration with a twisted smile. He’s tried this before—this false charm, this sick game of making me believe I have a choice.

‘You’ve always been insistent,’ I say, my voice cold. ‘But the answer is no. I would sooner raise my child as a bastard than submit to you.’

The mask slips. His smile vanishes, replaced with simmering rage. He rises abruptly, crossing the room in swift strides and grabbing my arm. His grip is firm, and I can feel it bruising.

“You’d do well to watch your tongue,” he growls, his face inches from mine. “I’ve been patient, offering you some sense of control in this. But make no mistake, you will be mine, whether you like it or not.”

I yank my arm from his grasp, my heart racing, but I refuse to back down. “Never,” I hiss. “I’d throw myself from this tower before I let you touch me.”

He steps back, his lips curling into a snarl. “You’re being a fool. The duke never loved you, not truly. He only wanted you for your body. But I, my lady,’ he leans in, his voice low and threatening, ‘I want all of you. And I will give you everything—power, wealth, security—if you just say yes. Marry me, and everything you’ve ever wanted is yours.”

His eyes flash with something dark, something final as he says, “This is the last time I’m asking.”

“No,” I say firmly, staring him down. “And that is my final answer.”

Count Blackmoor’s eyes narrow, his jaw tightening. For a split second, I wonder if he’ll lash out, if his rage will get the better of him.

His lips curl into a sinister grin, one that sends a chill down my spine.

“Don’t underestimate me, my lady,” he warns. “I’m capable of more cruelty than you could ever imagine.”

“Like what?” I ask defiantly despite the icy fear creeping through me.

His evil grin widens. “It wasn’t the enemy that killed your precious duke on the battlefield, you know. That was all me.”

“What?” My breath catches in my throat, my heart pounding.

I’m stunned. My mind races, reeling from the horror of what he’s just confessed. Without thinking, my hand flies across his face, the sound of the slap echoing through the room.

His eyes blaze with fury, and for a moment, I fear what he might do. His hand rises, but before he can strike, the sound of a throat clearing comes from the doorway.

We both freeze, turning to see none other than the duke himself.

He’s alive.

Bruised, battered, but very much alive.

I blink, thinking I must be seeing things.

The duke steps into the room, his figure tall and commanding, and my heart soars—it’s really him.

The count, pale with shock, stumbles backward. “How are you here?”

The duke’s voice is calm, but there’s a hard edge to it. “Considering your life as you know it is over, cousin,” he says, stepping closer, “I suppose I’ll give you an explanation.”

I see the tension in the count’s posture as the duke continues. “The rogues you hired tried to kill me, but they failed. Every last one of them fell by my sword.” He smirks, a dangerous glint in his eye. “You should’ve hired better trained men.”

The count’s expression turns to one of defeat. “I─I—”

“I’ll give you a sporting chance,” the duke interrupt, “a head start to run. But know this—I will track you down.” His eyes flash with cold fury. “And when I do, you’ll wish those rogues had finished the job.”

Stunned and terrified, the count stammers, then bolts from the room without another word.

The moment we’re alone, the duke turns to me, his expression softening as he takes my hand. “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice filled with sincerity. “I was wounded in the melee and had to lay low while I recovered.”

Tears of relief well in my eyes as I grip his hand. “I’m so glad you’re alive.”

He kisses my hand tenderly. “I received news of our child,” he says, his voice full of happiness and love. “And now, I’m ready to do what I should’ve done long ago, and that is, marry you.”

We kiss, the words we’ve both been holding back finally spilling out between us.

“I love you.”

“And I you, my lady. And I will forevermore.”

I sit up from my laptop, stretching my arms over my head. Another gorgeous day in San Francisco spills through the windows of my cozy little writing room. The sunlight bounces off the city below, making everything look like a postcard. I glance down at my big, pregnant belly with a smile. Three weeks until this little one arrives, and I’m determined to finish my book before then. It’s practically writing itself at this point, but I still have to wrap it up with a cute happily ever after.

My phone buzzes, pulling me out of my thoughts. It’s a text from Claire. I grin as I open it, a picture of her and William greeting me. He’s growing like a weed, holding up a stuffed reindeer. Too cute.

Park later? she asks, complete with a heart emoji and a little stroller gif.

I chuckle, rubbing my belly as I type back.

I hit send and smile, loving that life’s finally slowed down a bit. Things have been weirdly perfect lately even though Melor’s still intense and protective. He’s also still calm and grounding, and all of it is nice.

I start to stand when I feel a strange pop, wetness trailing down my leg.

‘Melor!’ I shout, trying to stay calm but definitely not succeeding.

Within seconds he’s there, rushing through the door from his office like some kind of action hero.

“What is it?” he asks, voice filled with concern.

“My water just broke,” I reply, half laughing, half panicking. “I think this baby’s coming early.”

His eyes widen, but he doesn’t miss a beat. “Let’s get you to the hospital.”

And just like that, we’re on the move.

“Overnight bags?” he calls, already halfway down the hall.

“By the door!” I shout back, waddling out of my writing room as fast as I can.

“Hospital forms? ID? Phone charger?” he fires off, grabbing stuff along the way.

“I think—wait, I didn’t even know we had forms,” I mutter, frantically checking my pockets for my phone.

He’s already on his phone with the hospital as I’m slipping on my shoes. I shoot a quick text to Claire.

Water broke. Heading to the hospital!

Her reply comes instantly, all cap.

OMG SO EXCITING! KEEP ME POSTED!

We pile into the car, and as we pull out of the driveway, I steal a quick glance at my old house across the street. A new girl moved in a few months ago and is sitting on the stoop, earbuds in, scrolling through her phone. She’s young, probably just getting her life started. I feel a weird pang of nostalgia, remembering when that was me.

But I wouldn’t trade my life now for anything. Not for a second.

Melor speeds toward the hospital, and soon we’re pulling up to the entrance. My heart’s pounding, but it’s not just nerves, it’s excitement, too. We’re about to meet our baby.

We rush through the hospital doors, everything flying by in a total blur. The contractions are getting closer and closer together, and I’m fairly sure time doesn’t even exist anymore. Just pain, breathing, and Melor at my side. His hand never leaves my shoulder, always there grounding me, while the doctors do their thing.

We decided to keep the baby’s gender a surprise, and even though I know I’ll love this little bean no matter what, the curiosity is killing me.

I don’t even remember getting into the delivery room or changing into a gown but the next thing I know I’m hearing the doctor say, “Push.”

And suddenly, it happens. I feel the release, and I hear the baby’s first cry. My heart swells like it’s going to burst.

“It’s a boy!” the nurse announces, placing him on my chest.

A boy. My beautiful, perfect baby boy.

I look down at him, this tiny human we made together, and I fall in love so hard it’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before. His little fingers curl around mine, and I’m done, completely wrecked in the best way possible.

Melor leans over, kissing the top of my head, then looks down at his son, the love in his eyes unmistakable.

“Hey, little guy,” I whisper, tears streaming down my face. “Welcome to the world.”

We spend some blissful alone time fawning over our little guy. He’s perfect. I can’t stop staring at his tiny nose and his little fingers wrapped around mine. It’s like I’ve known him my whole life. One of the nurses takes him for a quick clean-up, weigh-in, and testing, and as we watch from the bed, Melor and I chat.

“So, I know we had both boy and girl names picked out already, but I’ve been thinking.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Oh? What’s on your mind?”

I bite my lip, suddenly nervous to tell him. “I’ve been meaning to ask you this for a while, but I didn’t know how you’d feel about it.”

He shifts closer, his full attention on me now. “Go on.”

I take a deep breath. “How would you feel about naming him Sasha?”

The look on his face stops my heart for a second. Melor’s not a man who cries, like ever, but I can tell my words hit him right in the chest. He swallows hard, taking my hand and squeezing it tight.

“That’s a great idea,” he says, his voice softer than I’ve ever heard it. “I love it.”

When the nurse brings our baby back, it’s Dad’s turn to hold him. I watch as Melor cradles little Sasha in his arms, his big, strong hands so gentle with this tiny new life. My heart feels like it’s going to burst from all the love that is filling me.