Highland Velvet

by Jude Deveraux

  After breakfast Stephen proposed that he and Donald do some hunting.

  Bronwyn immediately stood, brushed the crumbs off her skirt, and obviously meant to go with them.

  Stephen turned to her. “Perhaps you should stay with Kirsty,” he said quietly, with meaning. “A woman’s place is by the fire.”

  Bronwyn felt anger flush through her. What did she know of cooking? She could help on the hunt. It was when she saw approval in Donald’s face that she understood Stephen. Donald might begin to be suspicious of a woman who could hunt but couldn’t cook. She sighed in resignation. “At least we’ll have Rab for protection.”

  “No,” Stephen said. “I think we’ll need him on the hunt.”

  “Rab!” she commanded. “Stay with me.”

  “Come, Rab,” Stephen said patiently. “Let’s go hunting.”

  The big dog didn’t even seem to consider moving from Bronwyn’s side.

  Donald chuckled. “That’s a well-trained dog you have there.”

  “My father gave him to me,” she said proudly.

  “Your father?” Donald began.

  “We’d better go,” Stephen said quickly as he gave Bronwyn a look of warning.

  She turned away from them and went to sit by the fire, close to Kirsty—her enemy.

  Chapter Ten

  BRONWYN TWISTED A PIECE OF GRASS ABOUT IN HER hands. Stephen’s warning had made her realize how easily she could give herself away. She knew very little about being a wife and how the ordinary wife acted. All her life had been spent with men. She could ride and shoot, but cooking was a mystery to her. The everyday talk between women was also unknown to her.

  “Have you been married long?” Kirsty asked.

  “No,” Bronwyn answered. “And you?”

  “About nine months,” Kirsty smiled as she rubbed her big stomach.

  Bronwyn suddenly realized that someday her stomach could look like that. It had never occurred to her that she’d have to bear pregnancy. “Does the child hurt very much?” she asked quietly.

  “Only now and then.” Suddenly a look of pain crossed her face. “Tonight seems to be worse than usual,” she said breathlessly.

  “Could I get you something? Water? A pillow? Anything?”

  Kirsty stared at her, her eyes blinking rapidly. “No, just talk to me. I haven’t had a woman to talk to in a long time. Tell me, what’s your husband like?”

  “Stephen?” Bronwyn asked blankly.

  Kirsty laughed. “Don’t mind me. I’m just curious. You never seem to know a man until you live with him.”

  Bronwyn was cautious. “Were you disappointed in Donald?”

  “Not at all. He was quite shy before we married, and now he’s very kind, considerate. Your Stephen seems like a good man.”

  Bronwyn realized she’d never thought of Stephen as anything except an Englishman before. “He…he makes me laugh,” she said after a while. “He makes me laugh at myself when I tend to be too serious.”

  Kirsty smiled, then she put her hand to her stomach and bent forward.

  “What is it?” Bronwyn cried and went to her.

  Kirsty sat up slowly, her breathing deep and difficult.

  “Please let me help you,” Bronwyn pleaded, her hands on Kirsty’s arm.

  Kirsty looked into Bronwyn’s eyes. “You’re very kind, aren’t you?”

  Bronwyn smiled. “I’m not a kind person in the least. I’m—” She broke off as she started to say she was the MacArran. But what was she away from her clan?

  Kirsty put her hand over Bronwyn’s. “I think you try to hide it. Tell me more about yourself. It keeps my mind off my own problems.”

  “I think I should call someone. I think you’re about to have the baby.”

  “Please,” Kirsty said desperately. “Don’t frighten Donald. My baby isn’t due yet. I can’t have it now. Donald and I are going home to my parents’. My mother will deliver my child. It’s just something I ate. I’ve had these pains before.”

  Bronwyn frowned as she sat back down on the ground.

  “Tell me about yourself,” Kirsty urged again. Her eyes were glazed. “What’s it like to be married to an—”

  Bronwyn’s head came up sharply, but Kirsty didn’t finish the sentence. She doubled over in pain, and the next minute Bronwyn caught the little woman in her arms.

  “It’s the baby,” Kirsty whispered. “The baby is coming. You’re the only one who can help me.”

  Bronwyn could only stare in horror. They were in the middle of nowhere, so who was going to be the midwife? She hugged Kirsty as another pain swept her. “Rab,” she called quietly. “Go get Stephen. Get Stephen and bring him back here immediately.”

  Rab was away before Bronwyn finished speaking.

  “Come inside the wagon, Kirsty,” she said gently. Bronwyn was strong, and it was easy for her to get the small woman into the wagon. Kirsty lay down, and another pain made her double over.

  Bronwyn looked out into the woods. No sign of the men. She went back to Kirsty, gave her a drink of water. Stephen would know what to do, she kept thinking. She didn’t realize that for the first time she was depending on him.

  She smiled when she heard Stephen’s angry bellow.

  “Bronwyn!”

  She stepped down from the wagon.

  “What the hell is this Satan-spawned dog of yours trying to do?” he demanded. “He jumped on me just as I was aiming at a deer. Then he nearly tore my leg off dragging me here.”

  She just smiled at him. “Kirsty is going to have her baby.”

  “Oh my God!” Donald breathed, then ran to the wagon.

  “How soon?” Stephen asked.

  “I think right away.”

  “Think!” Stephen said angrily. “Don’t you know?”

  “How would I know?”

  He sputtered. “Women are supposed to know these things.”

  “And are they told them during reading lessons or sword play?” she asked sarcastically.

  “Damned inadequate education for a girl if you ask me. There must have been some time when your family wasn’t leading cattle raids.”

  “Damn you!” she began, then stopped when Donald stepped down from the wagon.

  He was obviously worried. “She wants you,” he said, his brow creased into a frown. There was a white line on each side of his lips. He reached for a piece of wood for the fire, but his hand shook so badly he dropped it.

  “Me?” Bronwyn began, but Stephen gave her a sharp push forward.

  “There’s no one else,” he said.

  Her face lost all its color. “Stephen, I don’t know the first thing about birthing a baby.”

  He put his hand to her cheek. “You’re frightened, aren’t you?”

  She looked down at her hands.

  “It couldn’t be much different from a mare or a cow,” he said helpfully.

  “A cow!” Her eyes flashed at nim, then she relaxed. “Stay with me,” she said quietly. “Help me.”

  Stephen had never seen her look so soft, so in need of help. “How can I? A man can’t attend a birth. Maybe if she were a relative of mine…”

  “Look at him!” Bronwyn said, nodding toward Donald. “He only cares that his wife gets well. He doesn’t care about anything else.”

  “Bronwyn!” Kirsty suddenly screamed from inside the wagon.

  “Please,” she said, her hand on Stephen’s chest. “I’ve never asked you for anything before.”

  “Except to change my name, my nationality, my—”

  She turned away from him, but he caught her arm. “Together,” he whispered. “For once, let’s do something together.”

  It wasn’t an easy birth. Kirsty was very small, and the baby was large. None of the three of them knew much about having a baby, and they all agreed it was a wonderful experience. Bronwyn and Stephen sweated as much as Kirsty. When the head appeared, they looked at each other with pride. Stephen held Kirsty up so she could see while Bronwyn held the little hea
d and gently guided the shoulders out.

  The last part of the baby seemed to pop out, and Bronwyn held him in her arms.

  “We did it!” she whispered.

  Stephen grinned at her, then gave Kirsty a smacking kiss.

  “Thank you,” Kirsty smiled as she lay back against Stephen’s arm, thoroughly exhausted but very happy.

  It took them some minutes to clean the baby and Kirsty. Stephen and Bronwyn looked down at the mother and child, the baby already nosing around Kirsty’s breast.

  “Let’s tell Donald he has a son,” Stephen whispered.

  Donald stood just outside the wagon, waiting, his face full of fear.

  “Cheer up!” Stephen said, laughing. “Go have a look at the boy.”

  “A boy,” Donald said in a very shaky voice before he climbed into the wagon.

  It had grown dark while they were inside with Kirsty. The bright, cold day had turned to dark, even colder night.

  Bronwyn stretched and drank deeply of the fresh, clear air. For some reason she had a feeling of freedom. She suddenly threw back her head, extended her arms, and twirled round and round.

  Stephen laughed and grabbed her in his arms, lifting her feet off the ground. “You were wonderful,” he said enthusiastically. “You were so strong and calm, and you helped make things easier for Kirsty.” He braced himself as he realized he’d made an opening for Bronwyn to tell him of her training to become the MacArran.

  Bronwyn smiled up at him, put her arms around his neck, and snuggled her face into his shoulder. “Thank you. But it was your knowing what to do that was the most help. If it’d been me alone, I think I would have just stopped and stared when the baby’s head came.”

  Stephen didn’t believe her for a moment, but it helped his pride to hear her say he was of some use to her. “Are you tired?” he asked quietly as he held her close and ran his hand over her hair.

  “Very,” she said, feeling quite comfortable and relaxed.

  He bent and put his arm under her knees. “Let’s go find some place to sleep.” He carried her over the side of the ridge, then put her down as he deftly unfastened his plaid and spread it on the ground. Within minutes they were snuggled together, close for warmth, Rab against Bronwyn’s back.

  “Stephen?” Bronwyn asked quietly. “What are we going to do now? We still have no way to get to England, and alone we’ll be recognized.”

  Stephen lay very still while his thoughts raced. Bronwyn had never asked his opinion before, nor had she lain beside him in just such a way before, with trust. He smiled, kissed the top of her head, and pulled her closer, and he knew his chest swelled several inches. “I haven’t given it much thought, but I think that if we can, we should stay with Kirsty and Donald.” He paused a moment. “What do you think?” As soon as the words were out, he realized how he’d changed. A few months ago he would have ordered his wife about what to do. Now he was asking her opinion.

  Bronwyn nodded against him. “They’re heading south to her parents. If we could travel there with them, maybe we could buy some horses.”

  “Buy? With our good looks?” Stephen asked. “We don’t have anything worth a pence. We can’t even repay Donald for his hospitality.”

  “A Scot won’t need to be repaid.”

  “Even a MacGregor?” Stephen teased.

  She gave a soft laugh. “As long as he believes we’re not MacArrans. As for food, you’re a good hunter, a better one than Donald, I’m sure. Now we just need a way to pay for some horses.” She sighed. “Too bad Davey didn’t attack us closer to the border.”

  “Why?”

  “I would have had on one of those English dresses. The damned things are covered with jewels, and we could have sold them.”

  “If you’d been dressed as an Englishwoman we probably wouldn’t be alive, and besides, we wouldn’t have a warm plaid to roll about us.”

  She looked up at him. “I thought you hated our Scots dress. You said, if I remember correctly, that it left the whole bottom half of you bare.”

  “Don’t be impertinent,” he said in mock seriousness, “There’s something to be said for quick access. A man can get out of a plaid in the time it takes an Englishman to think about undressing.”

  She smiled up at him. “Do I hear pride in your voice?” she teased. “And where in the world did you get that accent?”

  “I have no idea what ye mean,” he teased. “And if the truth were known, I think I put it on with the plaid.”

  “I like it,” she said softly as she moved her knee up his bare leg and under the shirt he still wore. “How would you like to make love to a midwife? Or do you insist upon having the laird of a clan?”

  He put his hand in her hair. “Right now I’ll take you whatever you are. You’re Bronwyn, a sweet, delicious bit of a thing who can ride like a demon, save her husband’s life, and deliver a baby all in a few hours.”

  “I had a bit of help,” she whispered before she lifted her mouth to his for his kiss.

  Bronwyn too felt the strangeness of the place and time. She should be worried about her clan, but she knew Tam was there to guide them, and maybe her men would be better off if they didn’t have to deal with the war that constantly raged between her and Stephen. Right now she didn’t feel at all like being at war with him. She felt like she’d never felt before: soft and feminine. There were no decisions to make, no anger, no worry that Stephen was on the other side. Right now they were hunted equally.

  “You have a faraway look,” he said. “Will you share your thoughts with me?”

  “I was thinking that right now I’m happy. I haven’t had a happy or even a quiet thought since before my father died.”

  Stephen smiled because for the first time, she didn’t accuse him of murder. “Come here, sweet, and see if I can’t make you happier.”

  He took his time in undressing her. They twisted together under the swaddling plaid and laughed when an elbow punctured any delicate spot. It was an intimate wrestle, rolling, laughing, enjoying each other and their freedom.

  Stephen’s hands on Bronwyn’s skin made her quieten. She was learning about the pleasures of his lovemaking. She kissed his face, his neck, watched the play of moonlight on his skin.

  He ran his lips across her shoulder, then down to her breast. She felt chills run through her. “Stephen,” she whispered. He ran his hands over her waist and ribs. The strength of him excited her, made her feel small and in his power.

  “You are so beautiful,” he whispered.

  She smiled and knew that he made her feel beautiful. He ran his hands down the inside of her thighs, and when he felt her tremble, the same emotion ran through him.

  He moved on top of her slowly. She gave herself to him freely and eagerly, pulling his mouth down to hers. When she groaned aloud in her pleasure, Stephen kissed her deeply. The sounds she made, her abandonment to his lovemaking, were exciting to him.

  They made love slowly, until Bronwyn clawed at Stephen, demanding more of him. She arched up to meet him, and he exploded in one massive thrust. She clasped him to her, not letting him go, wanting all of him.

  They fell asleep that way, joined together, wrapped in each other’s arms.

  It was Bronwyn who woke first. Stephen held her so close to him that she could scarcely breathe. She watched him for a moment. There was a curl along his ear. She noticed how much he’d changed over the last few months. Gone was the pale English skin and the short, neat English hair. Yes, she thought, hardly anyone would recognize him as an Englishman now. She moved so she could kiss the curl of hair. She remembered that once she’d been afraid to make advances of such a nature toward him. This morning it seemed right that she’d kiss him awake.

  He smiled before he opened his eyes.

  “Good morning,” she whispered.

  “I’m afraid to look,” he said dreamily. “Has someone changed my Bronwyn for a woodsprite?”

  She bit his earlobe.

  “Ow!” His eyes flew open, then
he chuckled. “I don’t think I’ll trade you for a sprite of any kind,” he said as he moved toward her.

  “Oh no you don’t!” She pushed him away. “I want to see our baby.”

  “Our baby? I’d rather stay here and make one of our own.”

  She rolled away from him. “I’m not sure I want to go through what Kirsty did yesterday. Come on, I’ll race you up the hill.”

  Stephen hurriedly dressed, and it wasn’t until Bronwyn was already on the top of the ridge that her laughter caused him to turn. She held his boots aloft. He yelled to Rab to fetch his boots, and the tussle between dog and mistress gave him time to get up the hill. He wrestled the boots away from Bronwyn, then ran in his short wool hose to the wagon. He was sitting there calmly when she returned. “Good morning,” he called as if he’d not seen her for days. “Did you sleep well?”

  She laughed at him and went inside the wagon to see to Kirsty.

  During the rest of the day there was little time for laughter or play. The men went hunting, and Bronwyn was left to care for Kirsty and the camp. She was appalled at the small amount of food the couple had. There were two small bags of oatmeal and little else. She didn’t want to insult Kirsty by asking for more supplies, but she hoped there were more somewhere.

  The men returned at sundown with only two small rabbits in their hands, hardly enough for one meal.

  “Stephen,” Bronwyn said as she drew him aside, “we can’t keep taking from them. They have little enough as it is.”

  He leaned back against a tree. “I know, but at the same time I hate to leave them alone. Donald hardly knows which end of a bow to use. And the game in this area is wary of all hunters. I hate to leave them and I hate to stay.”

  “I wish we could help them some way. Here, drink this.” She held out a mug.

  “What is it?”

  “Kirsty had me make it. It’s made from some lichens with a little ale. She says it cures everything. All day she worried about you and Donald working in the cold.”

  Stephen sipped the hot liquid. “And did you worry about us?”

  She smiled. “Maybe about Donald, but I knew you could take care of the both of you.”