The Highlander's Bride (28 page)

She was thoroughly disgruntled now, with her arms crossing her chest and her North Sea eyes lashing out at him, daring him to continue. Instead, he picked her up and swirled her around the room, looking at her with so much glittering emotion in his eyes that Laurel wanted to weep and laugh and cry out with joy.

Then he kissed her long, hard, and deep.

It was a kiss that was meant to show her how much he loved her and how happy he was over the baby, but it quickly grew into much more. Suddenly, they both were consumed with sexual desire. Simple kisses and touches were not enough. It had been so long since they had been with each other. Gone was her fainting spell; gone was his injury.

The rush to fulfillment was felt on both sides as they tore at each other’s clothes. Only when he entered her in a quick deep stroke did the frantic feeling begin to dissipate only to be replaced by a different, powerful sensation.

Laurel felt as if she were about to explode. She dug her nails into Conor’s back. She kissed him frantically, her lips moving everywhere—his mouth, his throat, his chest. He eased himself partway out of her channel and then surged forward again. The intense, impossibly good sensation was incredible.

Together they exploded with shuddering sensual release, collapsing, sagging against each other, still tingling with what they had just shared.

“Conor, that was unbelievable.”

Conor put his arms protectively around her, and stroked her arms. “It only gets better, love.”

“Aye,” she responded, trying to imitate his burr. “I wouldn’t have believed it could, but you amaze me every time, husband.”

He rolled over and looked into her passion-filled eyes. “Promise me you will take of yourself, not overdo and
eat
?”

“I promise,” she said, smiling in reply. “And you promise me that you won’t be doing any activity that will strain or pull at your wound until it is completely healed.”

He bent down and kissed her forehead. “Done.” If only she knew the power she had over him, he reflected.
I would promise her the world right now.

That Christmas was the merriest holiday that Conor and Laurel had ever experienced. The festivities lasted from Christmas Eve to the feast of the Epiphany on the sixth of January—twelve days after Christmas Day. Every night the clan gathered to enjoy food, drink, and music within the curtain walls. On the three main days of the Epiphany—Christmas, New Year’s Day and the Twelfth Night—there were grand celebrations with dancing around big bonfires both in the courtyard and outside the keep walls.

The halls, chapel, and cottages were decorated with green plants, particularly mistletoe, ivy and holly, as symbols of the fertility and rebirth the new season would bring. Laurel convinced Fallon to bring in some evergreen trees for added decoration. She invited several of the women of the keep to help decorate the trees and halls with candles and bows made of the McTiernay plaid.

Every day, music filled the keep, reflecting the gentler moods of Christmas. There were traditional Scottish carols, wassail tunes, and at night, there was an array of dance music played associated with the celebration of Christ to bring out the merry spirits of the season.

Each night there were festivities being held in both halls. While Laurel refrained from dancing jigs and reels, Conor made sure that her favorite songs were performed each night on the
clarsach
, a Celtic harp, before she retired.

But what most enthused the highlanders were the banquets. Because of the amount and variety of foods prepared, there were scores of women “helping” Fiona. Fiona agreed she needed the assistance, but several times Laurel had to come down to the kitchens and remind everyone who was in charge. Aileen questioned her tactic one day after they left.

“I noticed you never told them who it is.”

“Who what is?” Laurel responded, trying to act innocent.

“Who is in charge.”

“Hmm. You’re right. I don’t think I did.” Laurel smiled at her friend as they emerged into the courtyard.

“So, are you going to tell me?”

Laurel laughed. “Why, they all are! When I put forth the question without answering it, each answers it as she sees it. Fiona thinks she is in charge, so of course she thinks I am referring to her. Glynis believes the same. Most of the others think I am referring to Conor. You should see Fallon if he is around when I ask. He always puffs out his chest, smiles secretively, and leaves in silence.”

“What a devious woman you are! I should take lessons.”

Laurel elbowed her friend. “Ha! Everything I know I have learned from watching you handle Finn.” They continued to the bake house to cope with the latest squabbles erupting there.

There was a constant battle between the kitchens and the bake house about who had the majority of the work and contributed the most to their splendid feasts. Every meal had Scottish shortbread, a Christmas biscuit-type treat made of oatmeal, so the bake house was always busy. But the rest of menu varied greatly, each seemingly more sumptuous than the last. The clan reaped the benefit of the kitchen and bake house efforts to outdo each other.

There were soups and stews, birds and fish, breads and puddings. Then, on the three days of the Epiphany, there was also boar, venison, goose, and swan served with buttered mashed potatoes and mashed turnips. The days after the grand feasts, the kitchen would bake the most splendid mince pies filled with all sorts of leftover shredded meat along with spices and fruit.

On New Year’s, Fiona made her special New Year’s Black Bun cake. But, most wonderful of all, the crusty old woman, who had become so dear to Laurel’s heart, made her childhood treat—English pudding. The thick porridge was blended with currants and fruit as well as the precious spices of cinnamon and nutmeg.

Conor had teased Laurel kindheartedly as she greedily consumed the dish, stating that it was a good thing she was eating for two. He was right. She seemed to be ravenous all the time and, though only halfway through her term, she was already getting large.

The festivities did much to lift people’s moods and strengthen their spirits for the long cold months ahead. Although it was winter, there was much to do before spring planting began.

Conor was always either training his men in the tilting yard or assisting his farmers in mending and making tools, and repairing fences. Laurel thought it was an excellent idea when he ordered the twins, Crevan and Craig, to help cart and spread manure and marl on the ground for fertilization in between snows.

The rest of the winter passed uneventfully. Laurel was growing very large, but Conor saw only beauty.

“I’m growing fatter by the minute!” she grumbled to herself one evening as she prepared for bed. She went to bed early these days and took breaks often. Every morning and night, Conor insisted that he escort her going up and down the stairs to and from their chamber.

“In truth, you are large, but only around your middle, and even there—you still look perfect.”

Laurel looked at him from the corners of her eyes. He was definitely delusional. Her ankles were swollen, and she no longer could walk with dignity, always waddling about.

“Hmmm. You must admit, you are a bit biased.”

“Aye, but I am sure I can find several to support my claim,” Conor said, coming behind Laurel to nuzzle her neck lovingly.

“They are loyal to you. I doubt they would give me their impartial judgment,” she said, taking off her plaid. She walked over and dropped onto the bed. She fell backwards, letting her legs dangle off the edge.

Conor watched her, hiding his concern. She was very tired, and she was quite large, much larger than any pregnant woman he had seen. He lifted her feet and removed her slippers. “Do you want me to fetch Hagatha again?”

She shook her head. “No. She will only tell me that I am well and healthy and not to overexert myself.”

Conor remembered Hagatha’s comments as well. The last time the midwife had checked Laurel, she had cornered him about his wife’s condition. Laurel was unexpectedly large, so large that Hagatha thought the babe may be here sooner than originally anticipated.

Conor sat down and rubbed Laurel’s feet. “What’s wrong, love? Is it the baby? Are you not feeling well?”

She raised herself up on her elbows. “No, that’s not it at all.” In truth, she felt fine, tired, but very good. “I think I am bored.”

Conor nodded. He stretched out beside her. His wife was passionate about many things, most of which she had not been able to do for some time.

“I want to ride Borrail.”

“Laurel…” he said in a cautioning voice. He didn’t want to argue with her, but he would.

“No, no. I know that I cannot. I promise I won’t. I just
want
to ride him. I want it to be spring and to ride up and down the hills feeling the wind in my hair.”

He leaned over and kissed her passionately, full of love and longing. “Soon, my love. You will get to do all those crazy things that make you smile again very soon,” he whispered.

At first, her pregnancy had not altered their lovemaking even a little. Their passion for each other was so new, it was inexhaustible. When Laurel’s girth increased, they had adapted, finding new ways to give each other pleasure. It had just been during the last month that their activity had been reduced to playful fondling and kissing.

But now, she fell asleep as soon as she settled down on the bed. There had been more than one night when Conor found himself undressing his pregnant wife who collapsed into unconsciousness after she was “just going to sit down for a moment.”

Laurel leaned back against him and stared at the ceiling. “I’m scared, Conor,” she said after a while.

His fingers caressed her blonde locks as he considered her remark. “Scared of what?”

“I need you to promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“That you will take care of my grandfather and ensure his safety if I don’t live through the birth.”

Hagatha had told him about Laurel’s mother. He refused to believe that would happen to her.

“You are not going to die.”

It was time to be honest, she thought to herself. Unable to look at him while giving voice to the truth she feared, Laurel continued to look at the solar’s ceiling. “My mother died in childbirth. And you know that I am too large. I know it, you know it, and even Hagatha knows it.”

She felt him grip her hand as if to change the facts of her size by mere will. “You are
not
going to die.”

“I love you, Conor.” As she spoke the words, words she had said hundreds of times, a tear escaped and rolled down her cheek.

He turned her around and framed her face so that she had no choice but to look at him. “Listen to me. You are not going to die. I will not allow it. Nothing is going to take you or my son away from me. Do you understand?”

She nodded, blinking the now streaming tears away. “Yes, I understand.”

“Good,” then he held her close to his chest, molding her body to his.

Hagatha had warned him of the dangers. He didn’t want to hear it then, and he certainly did not like hearing Laurel speak about life without her. Not now. They were supposed to have decades to raise their children and to grow old together. Last year, he fully expected to die a young chieftain on the battlefield, but now, he wanted so much more. And it was all because of his wife, who had breathed new life into him, his brothers, his castle, and his clan. The concept of that going away was just not acceptable to him.

Laurel could feel Conor trembling. Her face was buried in his chest, but she guessed he was crying. She had not wanted this. Never had she wanted to scare him as well. She hadn’t realized how much he leaned on her strength and belief that all would be well.

“Conor. I think I will be all right. You just have a somewhat large son already growing into a highland laird. Hagatha has been here several times, and every time has pronounced me fit and healthy. All will be well, just like you said.” From now on, she would keep her fears to herself.

He knew she was putting on a good face for his sake. He decided to do the same.

“Aye, love. All will be well, and we will have a strapping bairn to prove it in no time,” he said as he kissed her hair.

Brighid was getting married. Donald, the man to whom she had lost her heart last fall, had finally conceded and asked for Brighid’s hand. Her acceptance was instant. They were to be married in the spring.

As Laurel was busy helping Brighid prepare for her upcoming vows of marriage one bright and clear morning, the castle was unexpectedly brought to high alert. Soldiers were running in and out of the tower house. The house was three stories high and was one of the structures on the curtain wall used to fight battles. The ground floor was where supplies and weapons were stored. Laurel had never seen the tower house so active before.

Suddenly Conor appeared before her, along with Loman. “Come with me,” he ordered, indicating for her and Brighid to follow.

“Conor?” Laurel asked, trying to find out what was going on. She had stayed in the great hall when the battle cry was heard, realizing that she needed to be easily found, but out of the way.

She was sure that, while it sounded like a call to arms, it must be something different. No lairds were expected, and it was still winter. Although spring was imminent and the snows were melting, the chill in the air was ever present, and the night’s frost still blanketed the earth. It was too cold for travel and unexpected blizzards were still possible.

Conor didn’t say a word until they reached the warden tower opposite the tower house. He opened the tower’s doors, then carried Laurel down to the lowest room that had a latrine, but no windows. Essentially, it was a prison. She had seen Conor use it on occasion during the winter months when an unruly or mean drunk needed some time to sober.

“Conor, you are scaring me. Why are we here? What is going on?”

Brighid walked to Laurel’s side and clasped her friend’s hand both to give and receive support.

“You are to stay here until I or Loman comes for you. If Loman comes, follow him next door to the postern. I am sorry about the conditions, but this is the safest place closest to the rear gate.”

Now Laurel understood. She nodded so that he knew she wouldn’t argue. Something dangerous was happening, and he had to prepare for battle. Early that winter, Conor had shown her around the castle from a fortification point of view. It was an extremely well-protected fortress. But even the strongest of castles could be overcome with enough men and time. That is when he showed her the passage that led to a cistern chamber outside the curtain walls and a means of escape hidden beside the stream. However, one must leave through the rear gate to access the passage.

“Conor, I know you must go. But, please be careful and come back to me.”

“I will. Trust me. It should not come to blows, but I had not anticipated this laird’s reaction to a message I sent to him right before winter.”

“The one Seamus sent?”

“How did you know…?”

“Conor! Did you think I would not see that Seamus was gone?” Laurel straightened her shoulders and masked her fear with a light-hearted attempt at a wifely command. “Now hurry and settle this matter and retrieve Brighid and me from this cold dank room.”

“Aye, love.” And then after a brief kiss he was gone.

After he left, Laurel walked back and forth nervously, waiting and wondering what had spawned such a precaution. “If I just knew what was happening, I would be able to relax a little. It is the not knowing that is driving me to pace, Brighid,” she told her friend, who was encouraging Laurel to sit by her on the makeshift bed in the corner.

“The laird will come and get us soon, milady. He will be rather upset if he finds you tired out and distraught.”
And yell at me as if I could control his lady any better than he,
Brighid grunted to herself while trying to convince her stubborn friend to concede and take the weight off her feet.

Laurel was not interested in being pacified. “He said something about a laird not taking well to a message that he sent this fall. Why would a laird get so riled about a message? What could Conor possibly have done or said to evoke such ire?”

“There is no way of knowing, milady. A man will act like a man, despite what a woman wants. At least that’s what Donald is always saying. Especially any time he knows that he is doing something I wouldn’t like.” This statement brought Laurel to a complete stop.

Donald was an affable man and always eager to please. Finn told her that he was a skilled soldier when she inquired whether or not he was good enough for Brighid. Since their engagement, she had watched Donald from afar. He was always trying to emulate Conor in all that he did.

“You know, I think you are onto something, Brighid. Conor did not
forget
to tell me anything. He
intentionally
didn’t inform me.”

Brighid instantly recognized that Laurel’s ire had sparked to life. “I am sure that he just didn’t want to upset you.”

Laurel began tapping her foot. “Hmmm. Yes, I am sure that he didn’t want an argument. I am also sure he is going to get one as soon as I find out what is going on.” She resumed her pacing again, but this time she walked around the edges of the room taking brisk, long strides. She was getting angrier with each step.

Brighid stood up wringing her hands. “Milady, please stop! You are making me dizzy. If not me or yourself, would you please rest for the baby’s sake?” Laurel slowed her pacing, but refused to stop or to be seated.

“Seamus left right after our wedding. I’m sure of it. He is part of the honor guard, but I don’t remember him partaking in the games afterwards. Conor must have sent him on his mission that very day. What could have been so important that it prevented Seamus from participating in the celebration?” she asked aloud, but to no one. It was like trying to work out a puzzle with only a portion of the pieces.

“More important…” She stopped and looked at her friend, not because Brighid would have the answer, but because she was the only live body in the room. “Nothing of interest happened that week prior to the wedding. Why then, if it was so important, did he wait until
after
the wedding? It doesn’t make sense. The message was important enough to keep Seamus from the games, but not important enough to send Seamus prior to our vows. It is as if Conor had to wait until we were wed. But that doesn’t make any sense. But what else could it be?”

Then, unexpectedly, Brighid did have the answer. “I don’t know, milady,” she sighed, deciding to sit down again on the small bed. “I wonder, though, if it is related to what Donald told me the day after you were married to the laird.”

Laurel was immediately attentive. She finally stopped her pacing and sat down with Brighid. “What did Donald tell you?” she implored without trying to sound too assertive. Brighid was, after all, a somewhat timid girl. Eventually, she would get her bearings but, until then, Donald would be able to dictate their household as he saw fit. Fleetingly Laurel wondered if Conor wished she was more like Brighid, always willing to defer to his orders.

“Nothing important. Nothing bad,” she tried to assure her mistress. “He just couldn’t wait until he was selected to run an errand for the laird.”

“What errand? Did he tell you what the errand was?” Laurel intuitively knew these were the pieces to the puzzle. She also knew that the picture they created could affect her and Conor’s future. “It’s really important. Can you remember if he said
anything
about the errand?”

Brighid was startled by the intensity radiating off of Laurel and started to shrink away. “But it’s trivial, milady. He just wanted the chance to run an errand to the laird’s godfather. I never met him, but Donald did once when he was a lad.”

“Conor’s godfather?” Laurel inquired. “Seamus was sent to see Conor’s godfather?” she repeated, stunned. This didn’t make sense at all. “Why would Conor’s godfather be causing such a stir and fear? Are you sure it wasn’t someone else?”

“Oh no, it was definitely him. The laird’s grandfather and his godfather were best friends, and he used to visit quite often. Now do you understand why this couldn’t be related to what is going on today? Laird MacInnes would never attack our laird. Their alliance is unbreakable.”

Laurel felt like a bucket of stones had come crashing down on her. Her
grandfather
was here. Conor had known exactly who her grandfather was. She didn’t know how he knew, but she was sure that Conor was well aware of her Scottish heritage when they married. That was why he was so sure he could resolve her family’s safety.

Tight-lipped, straining to remain calm, Laurel continued. “Tell me, Brighid, what do you know of Laird MacInnes?”

“Only that he was a highlander before he met his Scottish bride from the lowlands. He became laird of her clan when her father died and has done much to unite the border clans. He is now one of the larger chieftains, I believe, in Dumfriesshire. At least, that is what Donald has said. I know it isn’t much, but that is all I can remember. But how does that change anything?”

Because I am Laird MacInnes’s heir,
Laurel screamed to herself. And Conor knew it. He knew all this time and intentionally didn’t tell me. And now her grandfather was here and obviously not for filial pleasantries.

All of a sudden, Laurel knew why her grandfather was here—and prepared for battle. She had to get out of here now.

Laurel stood up a little too quickly and almost blacked out. She was larger than any pregnant woman she had ever seen and there were still a couple more weeks before the baby was due. Sometimes, she thought she would explode before the day ever arrived.

“Brighid, come. I would normally not involve you in my escapades, but I am too big and need your help.”

“Milady, you cannot be thinking of leaving. The laird! He told you to stay right here until he came. You cannot be thinking of challenging him this way!”

She grabbed Brighid’s shoulders. “Listen to me. I am walking out that door right now. I admit I need your help, but I will understand if you don’t go with me. But, either way I am leaving. I know what is happening, and only I can stop it.”

“Only you?” Brighid shouted to her mistress as Laurel opened the door and walked out of the tower’s lower room. “How can you stop it? Stop what?” she whispered as Laurel motioned for her to lower her voice. They reached the rear gate and went down the passage to the cistern chamber. They went into the chamber and stood by a large wooden chest.

“Brighid, help me move the trunk. It just needs to be moved out slightly.” Once moved, Laurel slid open a small hidden door concealed within the wall.

“Milady! You cannot be thinking of crawling through that!”

“I am not thinking. I am doing,” Laurel stated evenly and proceeded to crawl through.

Brighid followed, far from sure of the wisdom of their actions. The tunnel was slightly muddy but, thankfully, very short. Laurel stood up immediately once they were out and started walking towards the tilting yard.

They had emerged from the tunnel by the river, completely hidden from anyone near or around the castle. But Brighid soon realized that Laurel did not intend to remain unseen for very long. She raced towards Laurel to help her up the hill. Brighid was afraid of what was about to happen, but there was no way she was going to leave her mistress to face the wrath of two chieftains without some support.

By the time Laurel could see Conor and a man she assumed was her grandfather, she was seriously winded. She would be glad when the babe was born and her stamina returned.

Both lairds were on horses on facing each other, holding swords in their hands. Laurel had not seen her grandfather in several years. His hair had grown white, but he was still the large, strong man she remembered as a child. Except, in her memories he was a laughing, welcoming giant, warm and generous, not the furious, enraged individual ahead of her. And he was not the only angry one.

Even at this distance, she could see that Conor, too, was incensed. She would have to get closer to hear their words or to get their attention. Behind each man were dozens of warriors on horseback from each clan. Behind them and to their sides were even more soldiers on foot. War was brewing.

“We have to hurry, Brighid,” she said with such urgency in her voice that it propelled her friend to quicken her pace.

“Lean on me, milady. We’ll get there in time. I don’t know what you intend to do, but you do have a way of both quickening and calming a man’s anger.”

“Well, let us hope that I can do the latter.”

Suddenly, Finn was blocking Laurel’s way. She had not even seen him approach.

There was no compromise in his voice when he issued his orders. “Go back now, milady. This is not for you.”

“Get out of my way right now, Finn,” Laurel said fiercely, leaving no doubt that she was not about to turn around with his simple command.

“I cannot let you pass.”

“Finn, let me explain this to you so that we are very clear as to what is about to happen. If you don’t let me pass, and I mean now, I will begin to scream so loud that those two hardheads,” she pointed to Conor and her grandfather, “will hear me and come running. I doubt that in their angered states they will wait for explanations as to why you caused me to scream. I, of course, will give Aileen my condolences and see that your son is taken care of.”

Never had a woman so threatened him. But this was no threat. Finn had spent enough time with Lady McTiernay over the months to see the change in her eyes. The more she was agitated, the darker and cloudier her eyes became. He had heard Conor mention that when angered they looked like a storm brewing on the North Sea. As he looked her now, Laurel’s eyes were near black.

“Stay here,” he ordered Brighid, who was only too willing to comply. He then picked up Laurel and carried her the rest of way. She tried to get him to put her down, but soon realized that it was fruitless. At least Finn was no longer commanding her to retreat.

As they neared, she could hear the heated exchange. And, just as she feared, she was the cause of the whole situation.

“If you do not bring my granddaughter to me right now, we will have war!”