"Oh, my. Now there would be a beautiful argument to try and settle o'er the years."
"And it will be years, my love. Long, delicious years."
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Epilogue
"Cameron!"
That his tiny wife's voice was loud enough to travel all the way from their bedchamber to the great hall astonished Cameron. He moved out of the great hall to stand at the foot of the stairs, his cousins Leargan and Iain flanking him and looking equally as astonished. Cameron glanced behind him to see Cormac also staring up the narrow stairs and smiling faintly.
"Never thought wee Avery could make a noise like that,” drawled Cormac. “Gillyanne, aye, but nay Avery."
"Mayhap I should go up to her,” Cameron said.
"Cameron, ye bastard!"
"Er, nay.” Leargan grabbed him by the arm, “I am nay sure it is safe."
"How much danger can there be? She is having a baby."
"My wee Gisele was in labor when she chased me round the room with a log."
Cameron flushed a little guiltily as he turned to find that Avery's parents had arrived. “Why did she do that?"
"Said she wanted to hit me in the stomach a few times to let me ken how it felt. I made the mistake of telling her some bit of soothing nonsense. Maldie wrestled her onto the bed and I fled the room."
"Must you tell everyone that tale?” grumbled Gisele as she took her cloak off and handed it to a waiting and obviously besotted Wee Rob. “They will think I am a terrible dragon of a woman. Bon jour, Cameron. Since you are giving me a grandchild to spoil, I think I will maybe forgive you now."
"Ye are verra kind, m'lady,” he said, kissing her hand. “Avery is—"
"Is my mother here yet?"
"Very loud,” murmured Gisele. “I am here, little one,” she called up the stairs. “I am coming up to you now."
"Good. Ere ye get up here, could ye kick Cameron for me, Maman?"
"Now, Avery—” Cameron began. Then he yelled, “Ow!” He rubbed his shin and gaped at Avery's mother, who smiled sweetly, then kissed him on the cheek. “I cannae believe ye kicked me."
"One should do what one can to keep the birthing mother happy, eh?” Gisele started up the stairs. “I am coming, Avery.” She paused in the doorway of the room where Avery labored. “Ah, ma petite, you are glowing."
"I am fat and sweating,” snapped Avery.
"Ah. Well, the sweat gives you a nice glow. Is there anything you want?"
"Aye, I want a verra long, verra sharp knife, and when this is over, I am going to hunt Cameron down and cut off his—"
Cameron breathed a sigh of relief when the abrupt shutting of the bedchamber door cut off the end of that threat. He ordered Wee Rob to see that drink and food were set out, and then sent the men into the great hall. A large part of him wanted to be with Avery, giving her what small support he could as she struggled to bring their child into the world, but it appeared that it might be best for the continued harmony of their marriage if he stayed away. She had Anne, Gillyanne, Elspeth, and her mother to help her. He did not need to fear that she was not getting all the care she needed.
"Dinnae fret, lad,” Nigel said as he helped himself to some wine. “Most of the lasses in our clan prefer to be with the women at this time. And occasionally, ‘tis safer for the men to stay weel out of their reach."
"Mama Vree is mad at ye, Papa Cam'ron?” asked Alan as he moved to stand by Cameron's chair.
"A wee bit,” he replied, ruffling the boy's thick black curls. “'Twill pass. Having the bairn hurts some, and Avery feels a need to yell a bit, is all."
"Aye, that is what Mama Beth did, too."
He watched as Alan rejoined young Christopher, a rather ugly cat named Muddy, and Nurse Agnes by the fire. In the nine months since he and Avery had gotten married, Alan had visited them three times, each time with Christopher and Agnes. The boy had readily accepted that his name was MacAlpin, but it was obviously going to take time to detach him from his adopted family even just a little. Alan clearly wanted both families. Cameron doubted he would ever separate the child from Christopher, however. Avery was right. There was a deep bond between the two boys who had been so completely rejected by their birth mothers.
It was enough, however, that Alan accepted him as his father, even though that honor was shared with Cormac. Since Cormac and Elspeth had saved his son's life, raised him as one of their own, and had been willing to continue to do so, Cameron knew he would never begrudge them a place in the boy's life or affections. This visit held promise, too, for Alan would be staying for several months since Cameron had offered to begin Christopher's training. The tenuous bond between him and his son would have time to grow stronger.
The thoughts of children and family drew his gaze back toward the stairs. Despite his confidence in the women tending Avery, he could not fully suppress his fears. Avery might be strong of spirit, but she was delicate of build. Looking at Cormac and Avery's father, Nigel, Cameron struggled to find comfort in the fact that Elspeth and Avery's mother, both small, delicate women, had survived childbirth. If Avery needed him, she would send for him. Since he did not really wish to see her suffer even the smallest of pains, he told himself it was foolish to feel slightly piqued that she had not asked for him.
"I suppose I shall have to apologize to Cameron for all of those curses and threats I flung at him,” Avery said as, once she and the bed linen had been freshened, she took her new son into her arms to nurse him.
"No, do not,” said her mother as she kissed Avery's cheek and then the child's.
"Weel, I was a little ... er, harsh."
"Small price for them to pay for all the hard work you have done,” she grumbled. “Men—they gleefully plant the seed, then think nothing of it until the poor woman is sweating and cursing as she tries to birth it.” She exchanged a grin with the others, then patted the baby's back. “You did well, Avery. We Murray lasses are good breeders. Just remember—"
"I ken it. Nay too many too often. I think I would like to see Cameron now. Ere I go to sleep,” she added with a faint smile.
It was not long after the women left that Cameron arrived. He nearly ran into the room, then stared at her for a long moment. He then shut the door, slumped against the hard wood, and took several deep breaths before walking over to the bed. Avery patted the bed next to her, silently urging him to sit down. He did so with such care that she had to smile.
"I dinnae have a knife, Cameron,” she murmured, pleased to see him grin. “Come, look at your son.” She placed the baby across her lap and undid his wrapping. “Is he nay the bonniest bairn ye have e'er seen?"
Cameron stared at his child. He really wanted to agree. To his eyes, however, his son looked a great deal like a mottled old man, only smaller. A dark old man with black hair sticking up all over his head, dark skin, and a small bluish star on his belly. The child had all the appropriate parts, he noted as he struggled to think of something to say. Then he heard Avery laugh and looked up to find her grinning at him.
"He will be bonny and plump soon,” she said. She kissed Cameron's cheek, then wrapped the baby back up in his swaddling. “The birthing is hard on them. Probably as hard as it is upon the mothers. Trust me, I have seen enough newborn bairns to ken that he is quite perfect."
"And, of course, motherly pride has naught to do with that opinion,” he drawled as he sprawled at her side.
"Of course not.” She held her child in her arms as she sidled closer to Cameron. “He has your black hair. I am a wee bit impatient to see what color his eyes will be."
"They are blue.” He gently touched the hair on his son's head. “An odd blue."
"Those are newborn eyes. They will change. Have ye decided what name we shall give him?"
"Tormand, after my father, if ye dinnae mind."
"Nay, ‘tis a good name.” She lifted her head and brushed a kiss over his mouth. “Thank ye for my son, husband."
Cameron wrapped his a
rm around her shoulder and held her close. “Nay, I should thank ye. After all, I had the pleasurable part in his making. Ye did all the work. Are ye sure ye are weel?” he asked softly, finally voicing his fears.
"Aye. just tired.” She yawned but continued to stare at her son. “I do think he will look like ye and wee Alan."
"Poor lad."
"Ah, nay, husband. There can ne'er be enough dark-eyed knights to keep the lasses happy."
"Ye are blind, loving, but I praise God for it daily.” He tilted her face up to his and gave her a slow, deep kiss. “I love ye, my wee cat."
Avery reached up to stroke his beard-shadowed cheek. “And I do love ye, my dark-as-sin chevalier.” She giggled when he suddenly groaned and buried his face in her hair.
"Ye ken what I want to do now."
"Oh, aye, no more than I do, but nay for a month."
"A month?” When he saw her yawn again, he settled her more comfortably in his arms.
"A whole month. Four long weeks,” she murmured, and she could no longer fight the closing of her eyes.
"Weel, I suppose I should look at it as time weel spent."
"Weel spent at what?"
"Restoring our supply of blackberry jam.” He grinned when she giggled just before going to sleep.
As soon as he was sure he would not wake Avery when he moved, Cameron got out of bed. He took their son from her arms with equal care. Avery was right, he thought as he warily and very carefully carried his son to his cradle. There was a good chance Tormand was going to look like him. He felt proud that he had left such a strong mark on his sons, and he knew that pride was Avery's doing.
Her love and passion had eased a lot of old doubts and pains. When she looked at him, he felt vainly handsome.
"I shall tell ye a wee secret, laddie,” he said as he settled the child in the cradle and tucked the blanket around him. “'Tis the secret of happiness. Ye are going to look a lot like me, and some fools think that a bad thing. Ignore their whispers of the devil, their talk of how your dark looks hold a dark soul. Ye just keep looking about, laddie, until ye find that wee lass who looks at ye as if ye are the bonniest mon in the Christian world. Dinnae settle for less, my boy. Find the lass who smiles at ye, loves ye e'en when ye are acting the fool, and holds ye close in the night, and ye will soon see that being a dark-as-sin chevalier isnae such a bad thing after all.” He looked back at Avery as he lightly caressed his son's black hair. “In truth, ye will soon feel verra sorry for any mon who isnae one, for it seems we black-eyed knights ken how to find paradise."
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About the Author
Hannah Howell is an award-winning author who lives with her family in Massachusetts. She is the author of twenty-two Zebra historical romances and is currently working on a new Highland historical romance, HIGHLAND SAVAGE (the second of a two book series focusing on twin brothers. Look for the first book, HIGHLAND BARBARIAN, in December 2006!). Hannah loves hearing from readers and you may visit her website: www.hannahhowell.com.
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