She headed around the corner of the keep, searching the shores of the loch for a sign of Crispen. He was standing on a rock outcropping a distance away, his small body outlined in the sun. He stood alone, throwing stones across the surface of the water. He’d watch as the stone traveled, seemingly mesmerized by the way it progressed across the loch. His laughter rang out so pure and untarnished that Mairin’s heart seized. Was there anything more beautiful than a child’s joy?
She looked to the day when Crispen would lead his brother or sister to the loch to throw stones. The two would laugh and plaogether. Like a family.
Smiling, she started forward, looking on the ground for appropriate stones as she went. She gathered half a dozen before arriving to where Crispen stood.
“Mama!”
There was no description for the sheer joy that gripped her whenever he called her mother.
He ran into her arms and she hugged him close, spilling her rocks in the process.
Laughing, he bent down to help her retrieve them, exclaiming over the perfection of one or two stones as he examined them.
“I want to throw this one,” he said, holding up a particularly flat rock.
“Go on then. I wager you can’t make it skip more than eight times.”
His eyes lit up as she knew they would at the challenge she’d set forth. “I can do nine,” he boasted.
“Oh ho! How you boast. Deeds are much stronger than words. Let me see your prowess firsthand.”
His chin set and concentration knitting his eyebrows, he lined up his shot and then set the rock flying. It struck the water and skipped in rapid succession toward the other bank.
“One! Two! Three!” He paused for breath but his gaze never left the progression of the rock. “Six! Seven … eight … nine!” He turned. “Mama, I did it! Nine times!”
“Surely a record,” she said, acknowledging his feat.
“You try now,” he urged.
“Oh, I can’t hope to best someone as skilled as you.”
He stuck his chest out and he smiled smugly. Then he brightened and took her hand. “I bet you do well … for a woman.”
In response she tussled his hair. “You must stop listening to the ideas of your Uncle Caelen, Crispen. It will not endear you to the ladies in the future.”
He wrinkled his nose and stuck out his tongue, making a gagging noise. “Girls are awful. Except you, Mama.”
She laughed and hugged him to her again. “I’m ever so happy that I’m not considered an awful girl.”
He tucked a perfectly flat, smooth rock into her hand. “Try it.”
“Very well. After all, the honor of all women rests in my hands.”
Crispen giggled at her dramatics as she elaborately lined up her shot. After a few test swings of her arm, she let fly and watched as the rock sailed far, hitting the surface and kicking up water as it bounced.
Beside her Crispen counted under his eath. “Eight! Mama, you did eight! That’s brilliant!”
“Wow, I did it!”
They hugged and she whirled him around until they were both dizzy. They collapsed onto the ground in a fit of giggles, and Mairin tickled Crispen until he begged for mercy.
On the hillside that overlooked the loch, Ewan walked up behind Gannon and Cormac, who stood watch over Mairin and Crispen. He watched as they wrestled on the ground, hearing the joyous sound of their laughter ring out over the land. He smiled and pondered how fortunate he was. He had gained so much in such a short time. No matter that multiple threats shadowed their existence. He took moments like these and held them close.
Love was very precious indeed.
Ewan trudged wearily up the stairs and let himself quietly into his chamber. Some of the fatigue dissipated and the strain he’d been under lifted away as he gazed upon his sleeping wife.
She was sprawled indelicately, facedown, her arms spread out over the bed. She slept just like she did everything else. Full out. No reservations.
He stripped out of his clothing and climbed into bed with her. She snuggled into his arms without ever opening her eyes. She was exhausted often these days, a fact that hadn’t gone unnoticed by him. Neither had all the retching the poor lass had done over the last few weeks.
She had yet to tell him of her pregnancy, and he didn’t know if it was because she didn’t want to burden him with how ill she was feeling, or if she truly hadn’t yet realized it herself.
He rubbed a hand down her side and over her hip before sliding it between their bodies to rest over her still slim abdomen where their child rested. A child that represented so much hope for the future of his clan.
He kissed Mairin’s brow, smiling as he remembered her and Crispen skipping stones on the loch. She stirred against him and sleepily opened her eyes.
“I wasn’t sure you were coming to bed tonight, Laird.”
He smiled. “ ’Tis actually quite early. You just went to sleep much earlier than usual.”
She yawned and burrowed closer, twining her legs with his. “Has an agreement been made regarding Alaric’s marriage?”
Ewan stroked a hand through her hair. “Aye. Alaric has agreed to the match.”
“You’ll miss him.”
“Aye, I’ll miss having him here as my right hand. But this is a great opportunity for him to rule his own lands and clan.”
“And Rionna? Is she satisfied with the match?”
Ewan’s brow crinkled. “I don’t concern myself with what McDonald’s daughter is satisfied with. The marriage is set. She’ll do her dutyed with;
Mairin rolled her eyes, but Ewan, unwilling to be at odds with her on a night he wanted only to hold her in his arms, kissed her long and deep. “I prefer to discuss other matters, wife.”
She pushed back just a little and viewed him with skepticism. “What things, husband?”
“Like when you’re going to tell me that we’re expecting a child.”
Her eyes went soft and glowed warmly in the light from the hearth. “How did you know?”
He chuckled. “You’ve been sleeping far more than usual. You’re usually unconscious by the time I come to bed at night. And you can’t keep anything you eat down.”
She wrinkled her nose in distaste. “I hadn’t intended for you to know of my retching.”
“You should know by now that you can’t hide anything from me, lass. Everything you do is my concern and I’d rather hear it from you when you aren’t feeling well.”
“I’m feeling quite well now,” she whispered.
He raised one eyebrow before capturing her lips in a long kiss. “Just how well?” he murmured back.
“I don’t know. I might need some loving to make me feel completely myself.”
He cupped her cheek and tenderly rubbed his thumb over her mouth. “By all means, we can’t have you feeling anything but yourself. The keep wouldn’t know what to do if you weren’t driving them daft at every moment.”
She balled her fist and pounded him on the chest. He hugged her tightly to him and their laughter filtered through their closed door.
Down the hall, Alaric quietly closed his door so the sound wouldn’t invade his sanctuary. He sat on the edge of the bed and stared out the window at the stars hanging low on the horizon.
He envied his brother. He took such delight in his marriage and his wife. Mairin was a woman like no other.
He’d told the truth when he told his brother that he wasn’t ready for marriage. Perhaps he’d never be. Because he’d decided as soon as he watched his brother fall hard for his new bride that he’d never settle for less in his own relationship than the one Ewan and Mairin shared. Only now he wasn’t offered a choice. His clan needed him. His brother needed him. And he’d never refuse Ewan anything.
CHAPTER 32
Over the next weeks, the weather grew warmer and Mairin spent as much time outside the keep as she could. Though she wouldn’t admit as much to Ewan, she kept a sharp eye to the horizon, watching for when her dowry would be brought by the king’s escort.
Ewan’s missive to the king had gone unanswered thus far, but Mairin held hope that any day they would hear the news that the dowry had been carried to McCabe land.
Her belly had pooched ever so slightly. It wasn’t noticeable under the full skirts of her dress, but at night, naked, beneath Ewan, he delighted in the tiny swell that harbored his child.
He couldn’t keep his hands or his mouth from the mound. He’d palm and caress it and then kiss every inch of her flesh. His obvious joy over her pregnancy brought Mairin great satisfaction. Her clan’s joy over the announcement warmed her to her toes.
When Ewan had stood during the evening meal and announced Mairin’s pregnancy, the hall had erupted in cheers. The word raced throughout the keep and a celebration ensued, lasting well into the night.
Aye, life was good. Nothing could mar this day for Mairin. She patted her belly, breathed in the perfumed air, and set off for the courtyard, eager to get a glimpse of her husband training.
As she descended the hill, she looked up and caught her breath. Her heart pounded furiously as she watched the distant riders galloping toward the McCabe keep. Unfurled and flying, held by the front rider, was the king’s banner bearing the royal crest.
Her haste was unseemly, but she didn’t care. She picked up her skirts and ran for the courtyard. Ewan was already receiving word of the imminent arrival of the king’s messenger. Word had raced like wildfire around the keep and her clansmen popped from every corner, crowding into the courtyard, the steps of the keep, and the hillside overlooking the courtyard.
The air of anticipation was thick and sparked like fire as the excited murmurs buzzed from person to person.
Mairin stood back, her bottom lip clenched so tightly between her teeth that she tasted blood. Ewan’s brothers flanked Ewan as he waited the approaching riders.
The lead rider cantered across the bridge and pulled his horse up in front of Ewan. He slid off his mount and called a greeting.
“I bear a message from His Majesty.”
He handed a scroll to Ewan. Mairin surveyed the remaining riders. There were only a dozen armed soldiers, but there was no sign of trunks or anything that might signal the arrival of her dowry.
Ewan didn’t immediately open the scroll. Instead he extended hospitality to the king’s men. The rest dismounted and their horses were taken to the stables. The McCabe women brought refreshment to the men when they gathered in the hall to rest from their travel.
Ewan offered them lodging for the night, but they refused, their need to return to Carlisle castle pressing. Mairin died a thousand deaths as she hovered, waiting for Ewan to open the message. Only when the messenger was seated with drink and food did Ewan also sit and unroll the missive.
She whispered to Maddie to fetch quill and ink, knowing that Ewan would need to pen areply if one was necessary before the messenger took his leave.
As his eyes moved back and forth, his jaw clenched and his expression became murderous. Mairin’s chest tightened in dread as she watched anger gather like a storm in his eyes.
Unable to restrain herself, she rushed forward and touched Ewan’s shoulder. “Ewan? Is something amiss?”
“Leave me,” he said harshly.
She instantly recoiled from the fury in his voice. Her hand dropped and she took a hasty step back. Ewan raised his gaze to the others assembled and barked an order to clear the hall.
Mairin turned and left, avoiding Maddie’s look of sympathy when she passed her by.
Ewan read the missive again, unable to believe what was before his eyes. He scanned the signature at the bottom, noting that it was signed by the king’s closest advisor, not the king himself. He wasn’t sure what to make of that.
Regardless of whether it was signed by the king or his advisor, it bore the royal seal and was carried by a contingent of the king’s royal guard. Ewan was compelled to obey, despite the fact that the accusations were laughable and an insult to his honor.
“Ewan, what has happened?” Alaric demanded.
The king’s messenger eyed Ewan warily as he shoved his goblet aside. “Will you be penning a response, Laird?”
Ewan’s lip curled and he barely restrained his urge to wrap his hands around the man’s neck. Only his knowledge that it was hardly fair to slay the messenger for the words of another kept him from venting his rage.
“You may bear my response back verbally. Tell our liege that I will come.”
The messenger stood and, with a bow, signaled his men and beat a hasty retreat.
The hall was empty, save Ewan and his brothers. Ewan closed his eyes and brought his fist down on the table with a resounding crack.
“Ewan?” Caelen’s concern was sharp, as both he and Alaric leaned forward in their seats.
“I’ve been summoned to court,” Ewan began. He still couldn’t believe the contents of the missive.
“To court? Why?” Alaric demanded.
“To answer charges of abduction and rape. Duncan Cameron has taken his suit to the king and claimed that he married Mairin, consummated the marriage, and I abducted and abused her sorely. He put in a claim for Mairin’s dowry that predated my own, and now he demands the return of his wife and the immediate release of her dowry.”
