The Rogue (11 page)

As the goat scrabbled out of the water Birdi asked, “Are ye alright?”

Angus growled deep in his throat. “Nay, and I may never be again.”

They’d made only five miles’ progress to the next village thanks to the blasted goat and the babe’s constant need for attention. Angus was tired, filthy, hungry, and physically frustrated thanks to Birdalane Shame’s fine hurdies grinding into his groin for three whole days. “Tend to the babe.”

Birdi nibbled at her lower lip. “As ye wish.”

As I wish?
“Humph!”

Had he had his druthers, the babe, Birdi, and the blasted goat would be off his hands this instant.

Matters couldn’t get worse.

Grumbling, he grabbed the goat’s tether and tied the stinking waterlogged animal to a tree. He unsaddled his idiot mount, and then set about cutting small boughs to make a pallet for Birdi and the babe under a low-branched pine. He then filled their water bag and checked Rampage’s hooves for stones. A crippled horse was the last thing he needed right now.

Finally satisfied all was in readiness for the night, he hauled their sup out of his saddlebag, returned to Birdi and the sleeping babe, and was pleasantly surprised to find that Birdi had covered the pine boughs he’d cut with a thick layer of pine needles. They’d now sleep a good six inches off the cold ground in relative comfort.

“Here.” He held out a meaty chicken leg.

She took it and grinned. “Where did ye find this?”

Mollified by her deeply dimpled smile and the thought of a comfortable bed, he sat down beside her and muttered, “‘Tis the rooster.”

She took a bite. “‘Tis wonderful, but I didna see ye cook him.”

“While I tended to Ardlui’s dead, he cooked in one of the smoldering fires.”

“Ah, very clever of ye.”

“Thank ye.” He finished his chicken leg in two bites, and tore into the breast meat. “I’ve been hungrier, but I swear I’ve never tasted fairer chicken.”

Birdi chuckled. “I’ve been wondering how ye’ve been managing to stay alive on what little food we’ve had.”

He hastily swallowed his meat. “I didna mean to starve ye, lass.”

She shook her head. “Ye’ve not. I’ve lived on far less for a lot longer. ‘Tis just yer size that had me pondering.”

He grinned. “Ah. I have been known to down a fair-sized hog when the mood strikes.” Seeing she’d finished her chicken leg—she was indeed hungry—he tore off another piece of breast meat and handed it to her. “I’m sorry ye had to see all the death in Ardlui. Ye did well...finding the babe and tending him as ye have.” She’d really been surprisingly calm.

Birdi looked down at the babe lying between them. “‘Tis easy. He’s the fairest wee bit.” She took another bite of meat. “I’ve been thinking and have decided to keep him.”

Aghast, Angus stared at Birdi as the remains of the rooster dropped into his lap. “Ye what!”

“Sssh, ye’ll wake him.”

Angus rocked onto his knees. Either Birdalane Shame had finally lost her mind, or he had. Deciding it had to be her, he collected the fallen meat. “Ye canna keep him. Ye’ve seen what can happen to women and bairns that
have
protection. They can still become prey. Ye’d be defenseless.”

“But the babe and I shan’t be defenseless.” She smiled, flashing her glorious dimples at him. “We have ye...for a year and a day.”

“Y
e
canna
be serious!” Angus, chest puffed out and his meal apparently forgotten, loomed over Birdi with his hands clenched on his hips.

The babe whimpered and she lifted him into her arms. “I most certainly am.” She’d given the matter a great deal of thought. Had been consumed by it all afternoon.

Mother of All, apparently kenning Birdi wouldn’t willingly give birth for fear her babe would come into the world as blind and as sensitive to others’ pain as she, had taken pity.

She’d seen how Birdi had managed on her own, and kenned Birdi had the skills to survive. And kenning Birdi’s devotion—mayhap even her loneliness and how much love lay dormant within her—she’d given Birdi the perfect gift. A babe who would grow into a perfect man...with a little guidance from Angus the Canteran. Mother did, after all, love things in pairs.

Of course, the Canteran would have to sleep on a pallet until he could craft a bed for himself, and he’d have to change his manner of livelihood so they’d remain safe and whole, but...

Birdi sighed contentedly.

Pacing before her, Angus growled, “I canna believe this!”

“Sssh, ye’ll be frightening Wee Angus.”

“
Ack!
And she’s named him after me.” He threw wide his arms. “Merciful Mother—”

“‘Tis quite fitting, since ye helped me find him.” Birdi decided it might be best to leave the rest of her reasoning for later. Angus MacDougall did appear a wee bit upset.

“Birdi—lass, we’ve already agreed on a course. We’ll not be changing it.”

“Aye, we agreed, but ‘twas before we found the babe.” And before Mother of All had interceded. “Dinna fash, Angus, all this—ye’re finding me and me finding the babe—has happened for a reason.”

“Aye, to drive me totally wode.” He dropped to his knees beside her and raked his hands through his thick, wavy hair. “Lass, I ken yer fondness for the laddie, I truly do. He’s fair and sweet, but he’s not yours to keep. Nor am I.”

Birdi frowned in confusion. “Why not? Wee Angus’s minnie is dead, as is his da for all we ken. Ye are strong and have proved kind.” She felt heat rise in her cheeks at that admission and looked down at the tunic covering her lap. His tunic, one that still carried the enticing scent of him. “I’ll make a good wife. I am—if ye’ll forgive my immodesty—quite clever with a needle and resourceful, so why is not this best for all concerned? Bring us back to my croft, and we can live—”

“Birdi, stop!” Angus rose and put his back to her. “I’m sorry, lass, though ye be fair—fairer than any lass I’ve ever seen—I need marry another. I was on my way to Beal Castle to court her when I found ye. I’ve pledged my word, Birdi, and I mean to keep it.” He faced her, the setting sun placing him in shadow. “We
will
dissolve this hand-fasting as soon as possible. With that done, ye’ll not have anyone to keep the bairn safe, so we must find a home for him.”

Birdi’s mouth dropped open as something painful seared its way from her middle and encircled her heart. Angus was promised to another? ‘Twas it the hale and hearty Mary? Nay, this couldn’t be! Mother of All wouldn’t have done this to her. Not after all she’d endured.

With the threat of tears burning at the back of her throat, Birdi held her head high and stroked the sleeping babe’s fingers. Angus was wrong. She need only prove it to him.

She had to. She had too much to lose, otherwise.

 ~#~

As dawn broke, turning the hills across the loch a deep violet, Angus opened his eyes. They felt gritty for lack of sleep after listening to Birdi’s muffled sobs and the babe’s repeated wailing the better part of the pitch-black night.

Today should have found him at Beal Castle. But was he there? Nay.

He took a deep, settling breath and let his gaze slowly drift over the curves and swells of the beautiful woman who had started his slide into disaster. If only their circumstances were different...

Birdi reclined on her side facing him; her head nestled in the crook of her arm, her black lashes fanning out over high smooth cheeks, her knees touching his thighs, and between Angus and Birdi—trapped and protected—lay Wee Angus blowing bubbles and playing with his fingers.

Merciful Mother of God, what have I gotten myself into?

He still couldn’t believe she’d named the babe Angus. 

The bairn, apparently thrilled to have finally caught someone’s attention, cooed at him and kicked his legs.

Without thought Angus held out a finger. “And what are ye so delighted about so early of a morn?”  The babe drew Angus’s finger toward his mouth, his eyes crossed, and Angus grinned. Ah, the nipper was hungry, though how he could be after slurping milk half the night was a mystery.

He decided to let Birdi sleep. He could feed a babe. Mayhap if she rested, Birdi would see matters more clearly.

His way.

He rolled away and Birdi, mumbling in her sleep, drew the babe into her chest. As she did, a lock of her hair fell over her shoulder. Wee Angus squealed in delight. He had a fistful. Having wished he could do the same, Angus muttered, “I envy ye, laddie. Truly.”

Only a few minutes later—with the goat milked and his horse saddled, Angus returned to the pallet to find Birdi still asleep and Wee Angus chewing contentedly on glossy black curls.

After easing the hair out of the babe’s mouth and fists, Angus picked the lad up and grabbed a clean nappy from the supply Birdi had garnered, along with a clump of moss.

He settled on a patch of grass at the loch’s edge.

It took more effort than expected—the feisty wee imp was intent on rolling every which way but right—but Angus managed to get the lad’s bottom covered with a moss-lined nappy.

With the babe draped over an arm, he slopped the dirty nappy in the water, then flung it over a tree branch. “Time to eat,” he told the babe. On his way to the fractious goat, he tossed Wee Angus into the air. The babe squealed in delight, Angus grinned and did it again. “Someday,” he whispered, “I hope to have a bairn or two as bonnie as ye.”

A half hour later, sitting cross-legged in the grass with the contented babe in his lap, Angus asked, “What will become of ye, lad?”

There wasn’t a way Birdi could keep the laddie, fair and maternal as she was. The lad couldn’t grow properly eating as he had for the last two days. They’d have to find a wet-nurse for him. And the laddie needed a roof over his head. They’d been lucky; last night’s ponderous thunderheads had passed without dropping a bit of rain, but more was likely to come, and he didn’t want the lad catching the ague.

Examining the babe’s perfect pink fingers and nails, Angus admitted, “Wee Angus, ye’ve put me in a bind.”

“Good morn.”

Angus looked up to find Birdi, her hair braided, standing at his shoulder. As she reached over him to pet the bairn, Angus caught the irresistible scent of warm woman. Bent as she was it would have taken little effort to pull her mouth down to his. “Good morn.”

She nodded and asked the babe, “And how are ye this fine morn?”

In answer Wee Angus smiled as if Birdi had put the sun in the sky for his sole enjoyment.

Ack.
The sooner he separated them the better. Rising, he said, “We’ve goat milk. Otherwise, I need to fish.”

“Thank ye, but I dinna feel hungry.”

Angus huffed. Birdi had eaten as hungrily as he for three days, so her lack of hunger dinna bode well. She was apparently still fashing over his refusal to let her keep the babe and no doubt planning to use her womanly wiles to convince him he was wrong. As if he ever was. “We’d best get ready to ride, then.”

He handed the babe to Birdi, collected their baggage, and tethered the goat behind the snorting and agitated Rampage.

Mounted, he headed south, for Inveruglas. With any luck, the clan would have a midwife who kenned a sacred well—one close at hand—and she might even ken a wet-nurse for the wee one and the whereabouts of Birdi’s clan, the Shames. If his luck held, he could then ride hard for Cairndow and Beal Castle, where his bride hopefully waited.

He clucked, Rampage let fly an ill-aimed hoof at the goat, it bleated, and they were on their way.

~#~

An hour later Wee Angus filled his nappy.

Birdi gasped. The stench was enough to bring a bull to his knees. “Angus, please, we need stop before I lose my breath.”

Angus, leaning back, she noted, as far as his saddle would allow, muttered, “Aye, I suppose there’s nay hope for it. Up ahead ‘tis a grassy spot.”

None too soon for Birdi he reined in and jumped from the horse. Birdi handed the babe down. Angus, his visage scrunched, held the cooing lad out at arm’s length. “How can ye stand yerself, laddie?”

Birdi, grinning, started to slide off the horse on her belly. Halfway down, her tunic caught on the stirrup. As she continued her slide, the tunic rose, leaving her backside exposed to the breeze off the water. Feet finally planted on Mother, she wrenched her tunic free, turned, and found Angus blushing.

As he shifted a bit, Birdi felt heat rush into her cheeks. “Ye’ve seen it before, Angus.” Men were such odd creatures. “Give the babe here.”

Clean nappy and moss in hand, she marched with as much dignity as possible to the edge of the loch.

Birdi had just finished tying a new nappy on Wee Angus’s clean bottom when she heard lowing and the ring of a cowbell. She spun and found great, light brown masses heading to the water’s edge only yards to her right.

A woman called, “Hello.”

Heart thudding, Birdi scooped Wee Angus into her arms and murmured, “Hello.”

The woman drew closer, and Birdi was taken by surprise. The woman smiled broadly at her. Tinker had been the only one ever to smile at her in such a fashion. Well, Angus had as well, but only a time or two. Of late he’d been fractious at best.

“I’m Kate, and this,” the woman turned a bit and raised an arm, “is my sister Margie.”

Birdi, unaware until that moment that there were two women, saw a tall green mass moving toward her. “I’m Birdi.”

Kate came closer and stroked Wee Angus’s arm. “And who is this?”

Birdi admired Kate’s bright red curls, then noticed the lass’s rosy skin bore the ravages of the pox. Poor thing. “‘Tis Wee Angus.”

The sister, Margie, then tickled the babe, and Birdi saw that this woman was a bit older and definitely fairer than the first, and though she petted Wee Angus, her focus was over Birdi’s shoulder.

With her brilliant green eyes bright with curiosity, Margie whispered, “Please tell me that beautiful man standing beside the charger is yer brother.”

Beautiful man? Humph! Aye, Angus was more comely than any man Birdi had ever seen before, but...

“‘Tis my man, Angus MacDougall.” Birdi felt decidedly uncomfortable watching the lass’s gaze rake Angus’s body. Why, she couldn’t fathom, but uncomfortable she was and she wanted the woman to stop her hungry perusal.