Destiny Of A Highlander: Blood of Duncliffe Series (A Medieval Scottish Romance Story)
Page 21
“Merrick,” Francine said firmly. Why were her teeth chattering? And how could it be so hard to focus clearly?
“Yes,” Douglas said. “I'll get her too.” He went.
Wan daylight shone through Francine's eyelids. She opened her eyes and stretched. Everything hurt. The bed was soaked through with perspiration, but she was not fevered anymore. It must have broken, she realized, sitting up. She was well.
“Merrick?” she called. She breathed in, smelling the scents of herbs and of a fire, almost out. No one answered.
Her next thought was of Henry. Where was he? She looked around, eyes becoming accustomed to the semi-darkness.
She was upstairs, she thought, in the room reserved for guests. The white linen coverlet was tucked in over her body and in the fireplace the coals had almost gone out. She stretched. Her body hurt. She realized she might have slept longer than she thought she had. She stood up and groaned.
All her muscles ached, like she'd been beaten with sticks. She remembered the rain, the riding. She must have strained her muscles with the ride, then had the damage compounded by the cold. Hobbling to the door, she peered out into the hallway.
“Hello?”
No one answered. She crossed it on silent feet and headed up, going toward the room that they sometimes used for an infirmary, should someone of the house be taken ill. This was, she guessed, where they might have put Henry. She reached the door and stopped.
There, on the bed, his face white in the pallid light of dawn, laid Henry. His hair, as pale as hers, shone in the rising sunshine. His eyes were closed. “Henry?”
No answer. His eyelids moved in a brief blink, and then closed again.
“Henry?” Francine breathed. She sat down beside the bed and put her face close to his, staring at his pale beauty as if she wanted to drown in it. She could see a green bruise down the side of his head and another at his shoulder, spreading to the bottom of the neck. Someone had washed and dressed him, swathing his ribs in bandages. One of them, at least, must have broken in the fighting. She winced.
“Henry?”
He opened his eyes. Slowly, their blue depths focused on her face. He seemed unsurprised to see her. Slowly, he smiled. She looked for any sign of anguish, or anger, in his gaze. She saw only sweetness.
“Dearest.”
She sighed and felt tears well up in her eyes. Blinking rapidly, she reached for his hand. She squeezed it and sobbed. “Oh, Henry,” she said. “I love you.”
He smiled at her. He reached up and cupped her head in his hand, drawing her face toward him. He simply stared at her for a long moment. Then, slowly, his lips clinging to hers, gently and sweetly, they kissed. “I love you too,” he said.
They sat like that, his hand in her hair, her hand wrapped around his, for a long while. Then he smiled and she looked down, feeling embarrassed.
“When I said...” he tried.
“Wait,” Francine interrupted. “We should forget all that. It doesn't matter.”
“No,” Henry said, “it does. I did not know – and did not think about – how you must have been feeling in my home, surrounded by English folk. I should have known...I knew how I often felt in Scotland, after all.” He grinned, embarrassed. “I'm sorry.”
“Oh, Henry,” she sighed, feeling sad for having made him so upset. “I am sorry, too. I should have known that you didn't mean it.”
“I didn't mean it, no,” Henry said. “You are so precious to me, Francine. I don't know the words to tell you. But I hope you know that you are my light in the darkness.”
Francine blinked rapidly as fresh tears sprang to her eyes. “Oh, Henry,” she said, sniffling. “My dearest Henry! I am sorry I ever thought so ill of you. I should have trusted you. I should have listened to my heart. My heart has always loved you, from the moment I saw you.”
Henry smiled. It lit his eyes. “Really?” he said.
She chuckled. “Yes.”
He reached for her again, drawing her closer again. They kissed. “I would love to make up for the time apart,” Henry said, grinning rakishly. “But I'm not sure if I can sit up.”
“Henry!” Francine chuckled, a blush springing to her cheeks. “I am sure we can wait.”
“I warn you, I am impatient,” Henry grinned. Francine laughed.
“As am I, sweet Henry,” she said warmly. “But let us wait until we are healed again. It should not take overly long.”
“No,” Henry agreed. “It shouldn't.”
She stayed beside him and he drew her to him. She was sleepy, after all, so when he moved up on the bed, it was entirely expected that she lie down beside him and before she knew it, go to sleep.
It was much later, when Merrick came to check on them, that she woke. Merrick simply grinned and left them to it. The sleep was more restorative than any further cures Merrick might have given and around dinnertime Francine woke, feeling almost completely healed.
Henry's ribs would take a little longer, but he even insisted on standing up and walking to the window. They ate in Henry's room that night – Merrick brought up bowls of broth and a platter laden with toasted bread-slices. Then, when Henry was comfortable again, Francine headed up to the dining-room in search of Douglas.
“Sister?” he said as she entered.
“Douglas.”
“You look well,” he said carefully. “You are better?”
Francine shrugged, wincing at the stabbing pain in her shoulder. “In a manner of speaking, yes,” she nodded.
They laughed. “Sit down,” he said. “Please.”
Francine sat. They talked for a while, peaceful, happy things. Francine noticed his face become serious. She frowned.
“Fraser got away,” he said tightly. “By the time the men thought to look for him, he'd hidden himself in the woods. I sent word to Guinnessfort, but I'll likely not hear back until tomorrow.”
“Oh,” Francine said. “Well.”
Well, she thought. Nothing else sprang to mind, beside that one, bland statement. Fraser was out of her life for good now. He would have to be entirely mad to try and come near her again and, though she was not certain of his sanity, she was certain of his need to preserve his reputation. No, he wouldn't come near her again.
Fraser was not something she was going to spend any more time considering. That chapter of her life had ended and a wonderful new part started--a part where there was only her and Henry, and love.
Because that was all that mattered.
EPILOGUE
The fire crackled in the grate. Francine rolled over and felt the warmth of Henry where he lay beside her. She smiled and moved closer, snuggling into his warmth. Henry stirred and smiled.
“Francine,” he murmured. “What?”
Francine giggled. She leaned in and kissed his cheek, making the kiss linger in a way that made him turn to her and press his mouth to hers.
She sighed, closing her eyes, and let the kiss cling to her lips, spiraling sweetness through every part of her. She pressed her body to his and smiled, recalling their lovemaking. It had been wonderful, but she would never stop wanting more of him.
Now she smiled at him. “What do you mean?” she asked. “Need I have a reason to kiss my dearest?”
He chuckled. “I should hope not,” he said, reaching over and drawing her face to his, kissing her again. “Or I would be constantly inventing reasons to kiss you. What I meant was, was there something that woke you? You were so fast asleep.”
“So were you,” she chided, laughing.
Henry chuckled. “I was.”
They lay there side by side. He reached out and wrapped an arm around her, drawing her close. She rested her head on his shoulder and lay like that, drifting in the sweet, blissful warmth of their closeness.
“Henry,” she whispered. She had meant to let him sleep a while longer, but she couldn't wait any longer to tell him her news.
“What?” he said. He grinned. “Sorry, I'm at it again.” He kissed her.
“You do?” This time, he rolled onto his side and looked into her eyes. Blue and intense, they held just a little concern in their depths. “What is it?” he asked.
The fire crackled merrily and cast its warmth throughout the room. It was winter, and cold. Francine was glad of the fire and its warmth, and the gentle noise it made in the background, easing her own excited nerves.
“Henry,” she began, licking dry lips. “I'm going to have a child.”
“What?”
His face was shining and she felt a sweetness in her heart so intense that she thought she might melt with the beauty of it. “I said,” she said gently, “I'm with child. Your child, Henry. We're having a baby.”
He stared at her again, and then he laughed. He kissed her. “You amazing, wonderful woman!” he said. He was smiling, and, she noticed, there were tears shining in his blue eyes. “How...what? When?”
Francine laughed. “The how, I think, is self-explanatory. The when..? I waited until I was certain, so I would say we have...mayhap seven months until our child makes his way into the world.”
“Seven months!” Henry stared at her. His face was shining with joy. “Francine! I am amazed. You wonderful woman. I love you.”
He reached over and kissed her and Francine felt her heart melt.
Here, in the silence of the room, with the crackle of the fire and the warmth of the blankets, the joy that was between them, everything was wonderful. Francine closed her eyes and felt her heart melt.
She had learned to trust the voice of her heart. Right now, it was singing.
She was so very happy.
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ALSO BY EMILIA FERGUSON
* * *
Lairds of Dunkeld Series
Book 1 Link -> Heart Of A Highlander
Book 2 Link -> The Highlander’s Challenge
Book 3 Link -> The Highland Hero
Book 4 Link - > The Cursed Highlander
Book 5 Link - > The Highlander’s Dilemma
Book 6 Link -> The Highlander’s Awakening
Book 7 Link -> The Highland Secret Agent
Book 8 Link -> A Highlander’s Terror
Book 9 Link -> Soul Of A Highlander
Book 10 Link -> Courage Of A Highlander
* * *
Blood of Duncliffe Series
Book 1 Link -> The Highlander’s Trust
Book 2 Link -> Destiny Of A Highlander
Acknowledgement
Thank you for taking your time and energy to read “Destiny Of A Highlander”. Without your continuous support, I would not have written this book.
Wherever you are, I appreciate you from the bottom of my heart. I also want to thank my wonderful Facebook fans, my advance copy reviewers and beta readers in advance for making this series a success.
~ Emilia
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Publisher’s Notes
Copyright © 2017, 2018 by EMILIA FERGUSON
This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to real or dead people, places, or events are not intentional and are the result of coincidence. The characters, places, and events are the product of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. All rights reserved.
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