by Fiona Faris
“The bairn is comin’!” Mary exclaimed. “I can feel it!”
Alana hurried back over to the bed. “Bear down, Mary! Bear down!”
Mary growled as she bore down hard. “Again,” Alana encouraged and she bore down again. Over and over they fought until what seemed like an eternity had passed. At last Alana could see the head. “Again, Mary! Yer almost there!” Another hard push and the head emerged. Alana quickly cleared its nose and mouth. “One last time, Mary. Ye can do this.”
The baby slipped out into Alana’s arms. “The string,” she ordered. Malcolm obeyed, bringing the string to her side. “Tie one piece here and the other there.” She gestured along the cord to show him. “Now the knife. Cut betwixt the pieces of string.” Malcolm cut the cord and Alana placed the newborn babe into its mother’s arms. “Mary, I would like tae introduce ye tae yer son, Andrew Malcolm Murray.”
Malcolm grinned from ear to ear when he heard the name. “A braw name.”
“Aye,” Bruce agreed as he crooned over his son. “He is braw indeed.” He wiped a tear from his wife’s cheek. “Ye did well, my love. Ye did well.”
Alana cleaned up the after birth making, sure it was intact and covered it beneath a pile of bloody cloths. She did her best to wash Mary without disturbing her and the bairn, washed her own hands, then quietly left the room to give the family some time together. She walked into the nearby dining room and looked out the windows out into the storm still raging strong. She caught sight of her reflection in the glass and saw there an exhausted, but happy expression. She had done it. They had survived. Her happy expression fade as she thought of the future. Saved them for what? Tae lose everythin’ they have ever held dear? Faither will nae allow them tae live in peace. He will pursue them tae the ends of Scotland, mayhap beyond. How can I betray these people? The image of the sweet innocent babe she had just helped to bring into the world entered her mind. Poor wee bairn has nae notion what troubles lie ahead.
The image blurred as Malcolm’s reflection joined hers in the glass. He wrapped his arms around her from behind laying his chin atop her head. “What are ye thinkin’ about?” he asked.
“The future,” she answered honestly.
“Bairns will do that,” Malcolm noted.
“Aye, new life tends tae make us think about what lies ahead,” Alana agreed.
“And what came before,” Malcolm added. He kissed her hair as she intertwined her fingers with his. “My family owes ye a great debt,” he informed her.
“Ye dinnae owe me anythin’,” Alana argued.
“Aye, we do. Ye saved Mary and the bairn’s lives. Bruce and Mary have asked me tae be the godfather,” he shared with her.
“A fine choice,” she remarked smiling. “I am pleased for ye.”
“He will grow tae be a braw lad,” Malcolm replied. Alana could hear the contented smile in his voice.
“I have nae doubts,” she replied and found that she meant the words. If the wee bairn is anythin’ like his uncle or father, he will grow tae be a verra fine man indeed. She could no longer view Malcolm and his family as the enemy. They had shown her time and again that they were not the people her father had described. What am I tae do? I cannae betray my father and brother, but I cannae hurt this family either.
“I’m tae tell Faither the joyous news. Would ye care tae accompany me?” Malcolm invited.
“I should go and bathe Mary and the bairn so that he can be taken to meet his grandsire,” Alana rejected his invitation. She turned in his arms and looked up into his eyes. “Ye are a good man, Malcolm Murray,” she admitted. Malcolm lowered his head and gently brushed his lips against hers. The kiss was tender and full of promise, promises that Alana could not fulfill. She pulled away, placing her hand on his chest. “Malcolm, I cannae.”
“Aye, ye can,” he whispered. Malcolm pulled her against his chest and pressed his lips to hers once more, this time with passion. He was warm and smelled of the forest. His lips tasted of whisky and the friction of his whiskers burned ever so slightly against her skin. Alana’s mind swirled around like the storm outside filled with conflicting emotion. A sound from behind them broke the kiss. Alana looked over Malcolm’s shoulder to find Freya standing in the doorway with a new pitcher of hot water.
“Mary is askin’ for ye, Alana,” Freya informed her. She wore a smile on her face, but there was motherly concern in her eyes.
“I must go,” Alana murmured, stepping back from Malcolm.
“Aye,” he replied huskily. He brushed a piece of hair back from her face and she turned her lips to kiss his palm. She knew he took it as a sign of affection, but Alana meant it as a farewell. She could not allow such a moment to ever happen again no matter how badly she might wish it to.
Alana joined Freya in the doorway and they walked together to tend to Mary and the baby. “I thank ye for savin’ my daughter’s life,” Freya stated, handing her the pitcher of water.
“I am pleased that all is well with her and the bairn,” Alana answered. “I admit I was concerned for a time.”
“Aye, we all were at that,” Freya agreed. She placed a hand on Alana’s arm and stopped her from entering Mary’s room. “My son is a good man. A man any lass would be proud tae call her own. Be sure that the reason ye reject him is right or ye stand tae hurt the both o’ ye. I dinnae wish tae see that happen.”
“My lady?” Alana pretended not to know what Freya was talking about.
“Ye ken what I say, lass, whether ye wish tae admit it or nae,” Freya replied. “Either way, I owe ye the greatest debt any woman can owe another for savin’ the life o’ my daughter and grandchild. I will say nae more about it now.”
Freya entered Mary’s room and Alana followed. “Are ye ready to bathe and meet yer grandsire?” Alana asked the wee bairn. To the new mother, she asked, “How are ye, Mary?”
“I am well. Sore, but well,” she beamed.
“Maitherhood becomes ye,” Alana remarked, noting the happy glow to her eyes and skin.
“Aye. Ye were right, Alana. It was worth it in the end,” Mary stated smiling.
Alana handed the baby to Freya to bathe and swaddle while she and Bruce bathed Mary and provided her with clean bedding and a fresh nightdress. Bruce tended the fire in the fireplace to ward off the storm’s chill burning the pieces of cloth that were ruined for any other use. When they were done, both mother and child were clean and happy.
Freya walked back to Mary’s side and placed the swaddled infant in her arms. “There now. Don’t ye make a bonnie pair?”
“Aye, they do,” Bruce agreed, kissing the downy head of his son. “Shall we go and see yer grandsire now, wee Andrew?”
Mary smiled at her husband and handed him the bairn. “Careful now,” she admonished.
“We will be most careful. Won’t we?” Bruce promised, speaking to both his wife and son. Kissing his wife one final time, Bruce left to take the baby to meet the laird. Freya followed close behind. Alana imagined that Freya did not wish to miss seeing her husband’s face when he laid eyes on his grandson.
“Alana,” Mary summoned.
“Aye,” Alana answered as she came around to sit on the edge of the bed. She took Mary’s extended hand in her own and gently rubbed it.
“That is good,” Mary sighed. “I wish tae thank ye for all that ye have done for me. In the short time that I have kenned ye, I have come tae think o’ ye as a cousin, but this night ye became my sister. Ye saved my life and that o’ my bairn. I can ne’er repay ye for that.” Tears sprang to Mary’s eyes, rolling gently over her cheeks.
“Ye owe me nothin’ at all, Mary. I only did what any other woman would do for another,” Alana answered, knowing that what she said wasn’t quite true. Not everyone had the knowledge or skill to be a midwife, but she couldn’t escape the guilt that hung over her head like an executioner’s axe. She felt as if she were continuously waiting for the blade to drop.
“Nae, ‘twas more than that and ye ken it well,” Mary ar
gued. “Ye are family now whether ye wish tae be or nae.”
Family… Alana closed her eyes at the sound of the word as a mixture of joy and guilt washed over her. How can I feel so happy at the notion of being this woman’s sister, while I aid in her demise? I fear there will be a special place in purgatory for people such as I.
“Why do ye look so distressed? Do ye nae wish tae be my sister?” Mary asked concerned.
“I would be honored tae be yer sister, Mary. I have ne’er had a sister and derive great pleasure from being considered as such. Ye are a blessin’ tae be sure, Mary Murray. There is nae doubt about that.” Alana embraced her and prayed to God that she could somehow find a way to save the family she was growing to love.
Chapter Eight
After ensuring that mother and baby were well cared for, Alana fell into bed. She was tired in ways she did not know she could be. Every part of her body hurt and her eyes felt as if someone had thrown dirt in them. She shed her blood-stained clothing and crawled naked beneath the blankets. The coolness of the sheets helped to lesson her misery somewhat and she drifted into a dream filled sleep.
In her dreams she was free to live as she chose without her father’s ruling iron fist. In her dreams she roamed the forest picking herbs and playing games with a group of children she did not recognize, but somehow knew they were hers. As they strolled through the trees, the children cried out “faither” and ran to throw their arms around the waist of a handsome dark-haired man. When the man drew closer, she realized it was Malcolm Murray.
Alana awoke with a start, sitting straight up in bed. Nae, this cannae be. I cannae be dreamin’ o’ a life with Malcolm. I simply cannae.
She raked her fingers through her hair and stared out of the tower windows. Rising from bed, she tripped over her pile of bloody clothing and went sprawling in the darkness, knocking over her washstand which loudly crashed to the floor. Before Alana could get to her feet, Malcolm had barged through the door. “Are ye alright, lass?” his voice demanded from the dark doorway. Alana arose to her feet, attempting to cover her nakedness. Before she could grab a blanket from the bed, a flash of lightening lit up the room, exposing her bare skin.
Alana saw Malcolm’s eyes flashed with desire. Then all was darkness once more. “I fell in the darkness, but I am unharmed,” she reassured him as she wrapped a blanket around herself. “There is nae need for concern.”
“Do ye always sleep bare?” Malcolm’s voice asked huskily. This time he sounded much closer. The lightening flash had blinded her to anything but the blackness that surrounded them. She felt a hand brush against her arm, then travel up to caress her face and neck.
“Nae, I dinnae,” she replied shakily. It was unnerving to have him so close without her clothes on. The blanket did not make her feel very secure.
“Pity,” he replied.
Alana could feel his breath on her chin, then his lips came down upon hers and she was lost. She wrapped her arms around his neck and matched his passionate embrace with a fire all her own. Sensation coursed through her body as he pulled her fully against him. His muscles were taut and ridged against her supple curves. Her finger tangled in his hair as she pressed him closer. Malcolm lifted her from the floor and carried her over to the bed. He lay down beside her, running his hands through her hair, down her neck and shoulders to cup her breasts. Malcolm flicked the bud with his thumb, causing her to arch her back in ecstasy begging for more.
He opened the blanket that she had wrapped around herself and caressed the nub once more. Alana moaned, clutching his head with her hands. She could feel him smile against her lips and she went to move away, but Malcolm took his lips from hers and began to kiss his way down her neck to her chest. He lathed the tip of her breast with his tongue, causing Alana to cry out in a mixture of pleasure and alarm. She had never allowed a man to touch her thus and knew she was foolish to allow it now. He had caught her entirely off guard and she lacked the will to deny him. She wanted this as much as he, but she knew what he did not. She knew that she was his enemy and that no amount of wishing it otherwise would change that.
She clung to him fiercely as if to erase the truth and the lies, leaving only the two of them together upon the bed. Malcolm moved on to her other breast, kissing, licking, and suckling as he went. As the storm raged outside, Alana became lost in her own storm of exquisite pain and longing. She could feel him hard against her hip and fought the urge to touch him. She was an innocent when it came to men. She did not know what she should do. She simply felt that she must touch him, have him, or perish from desire.
Malcolm’s hand traveled further south, unwrapping the blanket as he went. His fingers caressed her belly, dipped into her navel, then continue on to cup her mound. He ran his fingers through her nether curls to find the hidden gem beneath. Her legs grew slick with need as he moved his fingers rhythmically, exploring her secret places. “Oh, Malcolm,” she gasped, clutching him to her with strength she did not know she possessed.
“Alana,” he whispered from between her breasts. “Yer skin tastes of honey and the sea.” He dipped his finger into the core of her, causing her to buck against him with an urgency she could not define. He lathed her breasts one after the other as his fingers slipped slowly in and out of her wet sheath. “I want ye more than I have e’er wanted another woman,” he growled against her skin as she moved in time with his fingers, moaning and panting with a need she could not explain. “Say ye are mine and mine alone,” he demanded. His voice was husky and strained as if he were barely able to contain his own desire.
Unable to resist him, Alana submitted. “I am yours,” she whispered.
A deep groan escaped Malcolm’s lips. He removed his hand from between her legs and Alana whimpered at the loss of its pressure. She clutched at his shirt as if to beg him to return it to her and felt it slip through her fingers as he removed it from his body. Her fingers perched among his curling chest hairs and she followed the trail down to his belt. Malcolm ripped off the leather hindrance and removed his kilt, leaving nothing but skin between them. Alana hesitantly moved her hand lower and found the rock-hard object of her desire. Malcolm groaned once more at her touch and rolled over, positioning his body atop of hers.
He pressed his lips to her once more, fondling her breasts with gentle circular caresses that caused the buds to bloom under his attentions. Alana pressed her belly against his and he gently eased her legs open with his knees, nestling himself there. Alana squirmed beneath his weight and found the tip of his manhood braced at the opening of her core. “Aye?” He whispered the question, his muscles straining to maintain control.
“Aye,” she whispered back, unable to resist him no matter the consequences. If this was the only night of pleasure she was ever to know, then she would make the most of it. Her father would have a much harder time selling her off to Laird Sutherland if she were no longer a virgin untouched by the desires of men.
As Malcolm thrust his caber home, Alana felt a sharp intense pain. She dug her fingernails into his back and bit his shoulder to keep from crying out. Malcolm growled, then began to move ever so gently like waves upon a loch. It felt strange at first, fuller than anything, but then she began to feel tendrils of desire return once more. The tendrils grew into flames that licked heat from her core out across her belly and into her extremities, making her head feel as if it would burst from the ecstasy of it.
She began to move with him, running her hands along his back down to grasp his firm muscular buttocks. Malcolm began to move faster, causing the heat to rise within her to uncontrollable levels. With each thrust the sensation grew until it burst like flames roaring throughout her entire body. Sparks flew behind her eyelids and she cried out from the agonizing bliss of it all. Her body fell back, limp against the sheets, his body atop hers. She could barely breathe from the weight of it crushing her, but she didn’t care. Nothing else mattered in the world at that moment. I love ye, Malcolm Murray, her mind whispered as she held him to her.
The thought cleared the fog from her mind and brought her back to stark reality. I cannae love him! The words of her father’s message came back to haunt her, ‘Bed him if ye must…’ Panic seized her heart, causing her to go rigid.
“Are ye well, lass? Did I hurt ye?” Malcolm asked, raising his head to look into her eyes. What he saw there must have concerned him for he rolled off of her and sat up, pulling her to his chest. “What is it, Alana? Have I upset ye?”
“Get out,” she whispered, trembling.
“Alana?” She could see the hurt and confusion in his eyes, but her mind had become frozen with the shame of her betrayal. When the truth of her actions was revealed on the day of her father’s attack on the castle, Malcolm would not understand that she had lay with him out of love. He would think she had done it just as her father had wished.
“Get out!” she commanded, pulling the blanket back up around herself. She felt as if the guilt would suffocate her. “We should nae have done this.” Her breathing was coming faster and faster, making her feel light headed. She scrambled from the bed and the room spun around her. “Ye cannae be with me,” she whispered. A knock at the door caused her to stumble towards the portal, wrenching it open without thought to find Freya and a maidservant standing in the doorway.
