Highland Promise (31 page)

        "She is a wee bit touchy this eve," Michael continued. "The laird is bound to have given her a scold over the arrow, and now our language confuses her."

        Faith clenched her jaw and didn't even try to suppress the unladylike growl in her throat. They laughed outright. She slipped between Cleit and Jamie, heading toward Alera. Luthias and Michael fell in on each side of her. Jamie assumed the lead, and Cleit followed behind.

        Her friend had laid a blanket on the ground. As Faith approached, Alera rose and greeted Faith with a hug and warm smile.

        "I am so glad you are finally here." Alera lowered her tone to a conspiratorial whisper. "Did he bite?"

        Faith chuckled, happy Alera would be such a close neighbor. "Nay, only a few mean growls."

        "You must meet my dear cousin and sister." Alera turned to a tawnyheaded woman with warm amber eyes, who was seated on the blanket nursing an infant. "Marcail, this is my dear sister, Faith."

        Faith returned the woman's engaging smile. "How can you be both cousin and sister?"

        "My mother is Alera's aunt, and my husband is Duncan's brother." Marcail patted the blanket. "Come sit and tell me everything about you and The Sutherland. I always wondered what kind of woman would win him."

        "Oh, I did not win him," Faith replied. "He got me by default."

        Brendan's men took up stances surrounding the blanket facing away as if they guarded her from the world. She shook her head, then glanced about for a cozy seat. Her gaze landed on another infant, who kicked, thrashed, and gurgled bubbles of laughter.

        "You have twins!" Faith knelt and smiled upon the babe.

        "For the second time," Marcail said. "My others are about either brewing mischief or chattering someone's ear off. Would you like to hold her?"

        "Aye." Faith sat back on her heels and continued to gaze at the babe with longing. "I had best not. I have no experience with infants."

        Alera chuckled, picked up the infant, and placed her into Faith's arms. "Just keep her back and head supported." She sat down with an ungraceful plop. "You had best learn a thing or two before your own arrive."

        Faith gasped and raised a surprised gaze. "I get to be a mother." A warm glow settled around her heart. She glanced back down at the babe in her arms. "I never expected to be a mother."

        "Why not?" Marcail asked, a perplexed frown puckering her brow. "Surely you did not expect your husband to live as a monk."

        "Nay," Alera answered, a smug grin nearly splitting her face. "She planned to be a nun."

        Faith gazed at the tiny infant rooting against her and lightly stroked the downy cheek. She received a drooling grin as a reward. She couldn't wait to hold a babe of her own in her arms. A babe would love her and wouldn't have to worry about losing its edge.

        "What is her name?" she asked.

        "Leona, after my father."

        Tiny fingers wrapped around one of Faith's, causing a rush of awe to flow through her. "She is so little."

        "Aye, they come that way." Marcail's amber eyes sparkled with amusement. "Now tell me about how you met The Sutherland and your wedding and everything. I want details."

        Marcail was so warm and friendly, Faith felt as if she had been reunited with two long-lost sisters instead of one. With much coaxing, she soon revealed how she had met Brendan and the events leading to their wedding. She had help too. Any detail she left out was supplied by one of Brendan's warriors who soon turned around and joined in the conversation. Michael furnished the bit about Faith grounding Luthias, so Luthias gave the details about Faith drugging Michael.

        The atmosphere grew merry, and a small measure of hope warmed Faith's heart. She decided her future in the Highlands might offer a promise for happiness, and she could adapt to life here without too much trouble—if she could just master the unintelligible language.

~ * ~

        Brendan surveyed the festivities, searching for his wife. He didn't spot her right away. Tension coiled in his chest. If Faith had wandered off alone, she could be lost. And who knew how many Gilmores hid in the forest? He should have kept her with him and not allowed her to go gadding about.

        He spotted the Sutherland colors across the crowd. A slow relieved breath flowed from him. His men were surely guarding Faith.

        A hand slapped his shoulder just as he was about to set off to join his wife. "'Tis good to see you, old man. How is married life treating you?"

        Brendan turned to face Logan, a younger and lankier version of his brother Duncan. Logan's green eyes twinkled as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Better than you, boy." Brendan cocked a sardonic brow. "At least my wife agreed to obey me."

        Logan laughed outright. "Agreeing and doing are two different things. At least my wife didn't land an arrow in my arse. Besides, Marcail may not have agreed to obey me, but I get more rewards from not issuing orders."

        "Your love for your wife makes you soft."

        "'Twill be interesting to see how long it takes your wife to get obedience right," Logan continued. "Even those who make the vow find it difficult."

        Brendan chuckled. "Aye, she finds it damn galling too."

        Logan's jaw nearly hit the ground. "Good Lord, 'tis true! You're smiling! Your wife must be an angel sent from heaven to enact such a change. Do you love her?"

        Brendan snapped his brows together. "Of course not."

        Logan smiled wider. "I noticed your wife's beauty when Michael led her to Alera and Marcail, but now I must meet her without delay."

        "Desist, Logan," Duncan said, joining them. "If you and Bren fight, it will upset Alera, and I cannot allow that."

        "You worry too much over Alera's feelings," Brendan said.

        Duncan favored Brendan with a patronizing grin. "You worry over Faith's feelings whether you admit it or not, otherwise you would have shredded her with your well-honed tongue over that arrow."

        "Hell." Brendan left the brothers to their mirth and headed across the meadow. They unfortunately chose to join him.

        He halted behind Faith and held a finger over his lips, gesturing to Alera and Marcail not to reveal his presence. He should have known better.

        Alera's eyes sparkled with mischief, and she expelled a dreamy sigh. "Well, I believe my Duncan is the best kisser. He can steal my breath away and knock every thought from my head."

        "I must disagree." Marcail matched her friend's fanciful demeanor. "Logan makes my every sense careen and takes me beyond Paradise." She arched a brow at Faith. "What about Brendan. Does he kiss well?"

        Brendan crossed his arms over his chest and waited for his wife to boast of his capabilities.

        "Truthfully, the man needs more practice." Faith released a pitiful sigh and shook her head. "He has only kissed me three times that counted."

        Brendan balled his hands into fists to keep from shaking her.

        "Only three times?" Alera prodded, flashing him a gloating grin that made him want to wring her neck.

        "Aye, first in King Henry's garden. I did enjoy it, but he was giving me my first kissing lesson and stopped before I was finished learning." Faith sounded so indignant that Brendan didn't know if he wanted to kiss her till they were both done or lecture her on acceptable conversation in mixed company. "Then he kissed me in my chamber, but stopped before I was finished that time too because Michael snored."

        "You cannot blame me," Michael said with a grin.

        "Aye," Luthias agreed. "You drugged him."

        "I do not blame Michael," Faith replied. "'Twas Brendan's fault for ordering Michael to guard me."

        His fault! When the wee schemer had dosed his warrior's brew, she had the audacity to blame him!

        "You said Bren kissed you three times. When was the other one?" Marcail asked.

        "Seven nights ago. Though we did finish that time. It has been so long that I must admit I am forgetting whether his kisses were exceptional."

         "The laird kissed you at your wedding," Jamie reminded her.

        "Oh, that did not count." Faith waved a hand in a dismissive gesture. "He kissed me only to distract me so he could remove my wart. 'Tis the truth, Brendan does not kiss me enough."

        A man could only take so much goading. Brendan leaned down, tipped Faith's chin up, and pressed his mouth to hers for a kiss that would damn well count as the most exceptional kiss of all times. She chuckled in her throat before she started kissing him back. The imp had known he was there the whole time. After a pleasing sampling of her sweet mouth that left him wanting more than kisses, he stopped before he really did finish in front of everyone.

        He gazed into lambent aquamarine eyes and caressed her cheek. She looked exhausted. "I will make sure you practice kissing as vigorously as my warriors train for battle."

        A delicate blush stained her face. "I knew you were there."

        "I know you knew."

        He noticed the babe in her arms and decided he liked the picture she presented. With her spirited and caring nature, Faith would make a wonderful mother. He couldn't wait until she nestled his bairns against her breasts.

        She slipped a hand behind his neck, moved her mouth to his ear, and whispered, "I am so excited, Brendan. Now that I am not to be a nun, I can be a mother."

        Her joy at the prospect pleased him, and he kissed her nose. "I thought you were not going to entice me?"

        "Well, I broke my vow to remain silent, so mayhap I shall entice you as well." An impish grin brightened her glow. "What think you of being seduced by an Englishwoman?"

        "I will submit."

        "Huh! You would never submit to anyone."

        "That is what I used to think too."

        "Bren, before you make love to your wife, hand me my daughter," Logan demanded.

        "She is a bonny lass," Brendan said without taking his gaze from Faith.

        Logan took his sleeping daughter and placed her on the blanket beside Marcail. "Are you hungry, love?"

        She smiled. "Is that a hint for me to fetch food for you, husband?"

        "Nay, you wait on me all year long." He caressed her jaw in a loving fashion. "This eve I shall fetch for you."

        "I'll go with you, Logan," Alera said. "I swear I'm so famished I could eat a whole pig by myself." She bolted to her feet and toppled forward.

        Duncan caught her in his arms. "Damn it, Alera, are you trying to see if I still have reflexes?"

        She grimaced as she tried to put weight on her right foot and hissed. Then she turned a rueful countenance toward her husband. "I know you have reflexes. My foot is asleep."

        "Sit back down, and I'll fetch your meal." Duncan helped her ease back down and massaged her foot. "Will one pig be enough?"

        "Not if you expect to eat, too," she jested.

        Faith raised expectant eyes to Brendan, and he cocked a brow.

        "I should have known," she grumbled. "I shall have to get my own food, despite the fact that the insufferable man is responsible for my exhaustion."

        Faith stood up. Her plaid pooled around her feet. "Well, rats! I might as well leave the cursed thing off."

        "You will wear my colors," Brendan ordered. "And it is not a cursed thing." He grabbed Faith's plaid and replaced the garment while she muttered. Then he tipped up her chin and kissed her lips. "I do not like pig."

        She compressed her lips as her nostrils flared slightly. Then she turned and flounced away with Duncan and Logan, griping about being damn sick of being treated like chattel by an arrogant toad.

        Brendan appreciated the sway of her angry stride.

        "I thought you hated mutton," Luthias said.

        "I do, but Faith does not know that."

        "Then why—"

        "She is a perverse Englishwoman," Michael said. "She will bring him pork."

        "But he told her he hates pig," Jamie pointed out.

        "Which is exactly why she will bring him what he wants," Michael deduced.

        "Methinks Faith is no fool," Marcail said archly.

        "Aye," Alera agreed. "She has enough cunning to discern that ploy, Bren."

        "At most times, I would agree with you, but the lass is tired. She will bring me pig." He glanced around at his men. "Where are Roland and Tormey?"

        "Roland mentioned hunting, and Tormey is wenching," Luthias replied with a disgusted snort.

        "If any of our lassies turn up expecting, I shall know who to blame," Alera said. "That man scatters more wild oats than ever were planted in Ranald fields."

        Brendan's prediction proved accurate. Faith returned with a trencher laden with succulent pork, crowdie cheese, and apples along with a mug of heather ale. She handed him the trencher and sat beside him on the blanket. He felt her shiver and slipped an arm around her to share his warmth. She huddled close and picked small bites from the trencher. Her soft body plastered against him, and her light feminine scent lingering in the air tantalized his every sense. He found it damn difficult to concentrate on food and conversation when all he wanted was to haul his wife off for a night of steamy passion. Thank the good Lord, his wound barely gave him a twinge. He doubted he could resist his wife this night even if his wound tortured him.

        The blaze of the giant bonfire and dozens of torches lighted the mountainside as the sun slipped from the sky. Brendan noticed Faith suppressing yawns, but she continued to smile and converse with Alera and Marcail while he exchanged news with Duncan and Logan about all that happened in the Highlands during his absence.

        Dancing and feasting would continue late into the night, but Faith fell asleep against him with a blissful smile on her face.