Highland Warrior

by Hannah Howell

  He would stop keeping her at a distance, pathetic though his efforts had been. Ewan knew she wanted to be part of his life, all of his life. She had tried to be subtle, but he had often sensed her frustration with the way he was hesitant to tell her things, to speak of his thoughts and feelings, to share his plans for the future. Fiona never hesitated to tell him such things, and it was time to start returning that trust and confidence.

  The sound of the door opening drew him from his plans for winning his wife, and he watched Ciaran creep up to the side of the bed. The boy looked at Fiona, and Ewan could see the longing in his eyes. Ciaran wanted a mother, and Ewan knew he could not have chosen a better one for the boy. She would be firm yet gentle with Ciaran, and she would know how to heal his wounds. Because of the way she had been raised, she would also have a tolerance for a young boy’s ways as many another woman might not.

  “Is she ill?” asked Ciaran in a soft, slightly tremulous voice.

  “Nay,” Ewan whispered back. “She is just having a little rest.”

  “She did work hard to make ye better.”

  “I ken it.”

  “I am sad that my old mother tried to hurt ye and my new mother.”

  “Ye have naught to be sad about. Ye didnae do it and ye didnae want her to, either, did ye?” Ciaran vigorously shook his head. “So, ye must not think that ye need to apologize for what she did. She may have been your mother, but she was a grown woman and made her own decisions and choices.”

  “That is what Mama and Grandsire tell me.”

  “And they are right. A child shouldnae have to bear the weight of his parents’ mistakes.”

  “But I am sad that my old mother made my new mother have to kill her.”

  “So am I, but ’tis done and there is no changing it. Tis in the past, and it should be forgotten.”

  Ciaran nodded, then yawned, belatedly remembering to put his hand over his mouth. “I think I am feeling a wee bit tired, too.”

  Ewan had to bite back a smile, although he also felt a pang of tenderness. The boy was looking at Fiona and the bed with a covetous hunger. He doubted the child was really wanting a rest, but he certainly wanted to cuddle up to his new mother for a while. It was a sentiment Ewan could fully understand.

  “Weel, if ye are careful nay to wake her, there is room there for ye to curl up next to her.”

  The boy moved quickly. He also moved with a stealth that made Ewan think too much on where and why he had learned such a skill. The moment Ciaran settled his body next to Fiona’s, she murmured his name and curled her arm around his waist, tucking him up close to her. A soft sound escaped the boy, one of pure bliss, as he carefully snuggled up close to Fiona.

  Ewan lifted his head just enough to look at Fiona and Ciaran. In three short days, while he had been sleeping, the two had obviously become bound together in some way he doubted he would ever understand. Even in her sleep, Fiona had recognized that small body nestled against hers, just as a true mother would her child.

  This was his future, he thought. This woman, this child, and whatever children Fiona blessed him with. He settled back down and buried his face in her hair, feeling a stinging in his eyes that he was determined to control. All his life, from the moment he had realized that men and women were meant to be mates, he had hungered for a woman he could call his own. Young and foolish, he had briefly thought Helena was that woman. Fiona’s arrival in his life had shown him just how foolish that had been. Here was what he had hungered for, and he would do whatever he had to to keep it.

  Chapter 21

  “I cannae believe it. Married?” Ewan stared at his father and Mab as they stood by his chair in the great hall, then looked to his right at a smiling Fiona. “He is still married to the woman who ran away, isnae he?”

  “Nay,” Fiona replied. “It seems she died three years ago. I happened to mention the woman to Ciaran and he told me. There was a fever that spread through the clan and it killed her. He remembers her most clearly as she and his mother hated each other and often fought. Seems they both wanted Hugh. Your father talked to the boy and says the woman is the same one. So, he is a free mon.”

  “And I am going to marry Mab,” said Fingal, scowling at Ewan. “I feel foolish coming to ye like some lad, but ye are the laird and ’tis right ye are asked. So, say aye and let us start planning the celebration.”

  “Ah, Da,” Ewan began hesitantly, “I like Mab.”

  “Aye, and?”

  “Weel, ye havenae proven to be a verra good husband.”

  “Ah, nay, ’tis true. But I didnae care much for those other women. Annie wasnae so bad, but I didnae care enough about her to be faithful, and she may have borne me children but she didnae like the bedding, if ye ken what I mean. Now Mab here likes the bedding just fine—”

  “Fingal!” Mab protested, blushing deeply and sending a giggling Fiona a frown.

  “And I care for her,” Fingal continued as if she had not interrupted him. “I suddenly realized that she and I were, weel, friends. I am nay a young lusty lad, though I am still virile and, weel, I want a wife. I have told Mab I will be faithful and I give ye leave to beat me if I look to be forgetting my vow.”

  “If ye are giving the vow, Da, I doubt ye will be forgetting it,” said Ewan. “No one could e’er doubt your word when ye give it.”

  “Aye, aye. Tis why I am careful about giving it. Ne’er can tell when ye might find yourself in trouble just because ye gave some fool your word about something.”

  “That makes sense,” Ewan murmured and avoided looking at Fiona, knowing he would see her amusement and not be able to hide his own.

  “So? We will plan a wedding feast?”

  “Do ye want this rogue, Mab?”

  “Och, aye, always have. Ned wouldnae be here if I hadnae. Just had no intention of standing in line. Now there will be but the one.” She smiled faintly, but the expression held pure mischief. “I ken a few potions that would cure any mon’s wandering ways.”

  Fingal leaned back and frowned at her. “I made a vow and that be that.”

  “Of course, my love.”

  “Then we shall have a wedding feast,” said Ewan. “When do ye intend to get married?”

  “In two days’ time.”

  “Weel, I suppose we can set out a fine feast in that time.”

  Fingal nodded and, still holding Mab by the hand, walked out of the great hall. Ewan looked at Fiona. “Did ye ken this was happening?”

  “Aye and nay,” replied Fiona. “I thought they had gotten a lot closer, but that didnae have to mean anything as far as your father was concerned. She was the one to comfort him when he was reminded of all that pain in the past, and I think that is when he started to realize that she wasnae just Mab, but a friend, mayhap e’en more.”

  “Weel, I suspect this will cause a bit of an uproar. Nay a bad one, just shock, mayhap amazement, and certainly some hilarity. I hope Mab willnae be hurt by it.”

  “Nay. She has been here too long. She will ken exactly what is meant. The lads, as she calls them, all like her. Somehow, if there is any concern about this marriage, I believe it will be for her.”

  Ewan nodded. “Aye, they will fret o’er the chance that he will treat her poorly and hurt her feelings.”

  Fiona laughed softly at the stunned look that still rested upon Ewan’s face. A moment later, he laughed as well. She hoped she was right in thinking Fingal had changed enough to be a good husband to Mab, but it was Mab’s risk to take. That worry for her friend did not lessen her amusement over the situation, however.

  As they finished their meal, she kept a close watch on her husband. It was his first time out of bed, and although he had certainly appeared to regain his strength, this was the first time he had tested the wounds on his back for any length of time. She did not think they could be easily reopened after ten days of healing, but they were still tender. Pain could tire a person as easily as anything else, and she was keeping a close eye out for any sign of that wea
riness.

  Within moments, Ewan’s brothers and nephews began to come in and out of the great hall to express their feelings about their father marrying Mab. As Fiona had expected, most of them were concerned about Mab’s feelings. After an hour of such confrontations, Ewan was looking a little pale, and Fiona did not hesitate to use his recent illness and wounds to get him to their bedchamber. Some of his brothers would undoubtedly seek him out here, but not many.

  Ewan slowly lowered himself down onto the bed and smiled at Fiona. “Ye have gained a true skill in routing my family when the need arises.”

  “They have two days to make their opinions known,” she said as she poured him a tankard of cider. “Tis a shame they cannae trust your father to be a good husband, e’en though they all believe he will hold to a promise, but that is your father’s fault.”

  “True,” agreed Ewan as he accepted the drink. “Tis the first time he has been so blunt about nay caring much for his wives. One wonders why he kept marrying them.”

  “The first wife was for Scarglas. The rest for legitimate sons.”

  “Of course. Sad in a way.” He yawned. “Curse it, I shouldnae be so weary.”

  “Ye are nay as weary as ye were yesterday or the day before that. Tis my belief such weariness is all part of the healing. It takes a lot of strength to fight a fever or heal a wound. Ye had both.” She took his empty tankard away and set it on the table next to the bed. “Rest, I have a feeling the next few days will leave ye needing your strength.”

  “Are ye going to have a rest, too?” He smiled and patted the bed beside him. “Plenty of room.”

  “Nay, I had best start giving orders and making plans for this feast.”

  He laughed softly as she left, then yawned. It felt wrong to rest in the middle of the day, but he would do it, and he would continue to rest whenever he felt a need. He wanted to make love to his wife again, and that was something that required his full strength. If he had to sleep away the next two days to be at his full strength by his father’s wedding, he would do so.

  Weddings seemed to make women ripe for wooing, and he intended to woo his wife. He was going to give her sweet words before, during, and after he made love to her. And he was going to speak about the feelings he had for her, and then, hopefully, she would tell him she loved him. Ewan had used his time of healing to slowly teach himself how to share his thoughts with his wife. Fiona had been so obviously pleased, he was a little ashamed he had not made the attempt before. Now he would attempt to speak of how he felt about her. Even thinking about such a conversation made him uneasy, but the prize he craved was nearly within his reach. If it required that he expose himself in such a way, then he would gird his loins and do it. He could only pray that his own hopes and desires had not made him see what was not there, that Fiona truly did hold some affection for him.

  “Are ye certain about this, Mab?” Fiona asked her friend as she helped the woman dress for her wedding.

  “Aye,” replied Mab. “The mon has changed. Mayhap ’tis his age, mayhap ’tis ridding his heart and mind of the hurt and anger of the past, but he has changed. Tis time for me to take the risk that he can hold to his vows and cease acting like a rutting swine who cannae look at a skirt without wanting to lift it.”

  Fiona laughed. “Aye, although he hasnae been acting like that since shortly after I came here.”

  “I noticed that.” She smiled at Fiona. “I have also noticed that ye seem more at ease, at peace, if ye will.”

  “I am. Ewan has changed some as weel. More so in the two days since ye and his father said ye were getting wed. Mayhap I have finally worn him down. Patience was difficult to cling to at times, but it appears to have worked. Oh, Mab, he has talked to me more since we snatched him from Hugh’s grasp than in all the weeks before that.”

  “I am happy for ye, lass. That sharing, especially in a mon like Ewan, is a verra good sign.”

  “Now, if he would only share his feelings.”

  “Patience, lass,” Mab said and laughed when Fiona rolled her eyes. “One wee step at a time. Marriage is forever. What are a few months of uncertainty and hard work compared to that, especially if that work brings ye such a wondrous gift as a mon’s love, as a love returned in full?”

  Fiona nodded as she realized Mab had been patient for years. “I am amazed that ye ne’er gave up on the old fool.”

  “I might have if some fine mon had come along to offer me love and marriage. He didnae. Since no temptation was dangled before my eyes, it was easy to wait. I just tucked my love for him into a corner of my heart and slowly became Fingal’s friend, a companion who asked naught and didnae let him take what he wanted when he wanted it.”

  “Ye told him nay.”

  “From the moment I discovered he was wed. And I will keep saying it until the priest finishes muttering o’er us. I did it mostly for my own peace of mind, but that day when ye and I discovered that Fingal spoke to us in a different way than he did to the other women, I looked hard at that. Tis a matter of respect. He simply doesnae respect those other women much, if at all. Fingal appreciates the fact that ye and I stand up to him. I ne’er realized it, but all those years I have been doing exactly what was right and necessary to win the mon. If his wife Annie hadnae been cold in the bedchamber, that marriage might have been a good one, as she also stood strong and he had some affection for her because of it.”

  “How sad.”

  “Verra sad. Especially since I dinnae believe all those lasses who so freely toss up their petticoats are actually warm, ye ken. They just ken how to make the mon think they are.”

  Fiona stepped back and looked Mab over carefully. “Ye look verra fine. Ye shall have to keep a firm tether on Fingal or he will be rushing ye off to the bedchamber ere the priest finishes the blessing.” She grinned when Mab blushed and giggled like a young bride. “Ye wouldnae want to miss the celebration after we have all worked so hard.”

  “Nay. If aught else, I want the lads to enjoy it and see their father and I as husband and wife for a wee while ere Fingal starts sharing my bed. I want it set weel in their minds.”

  “Aye, that would be best.”

  “Ye are looking verra fine as weel. Why do I think ’tis for more reason than my marriage?”

  “Because ye have keen eyes. Your insight obviously stretches beyond what might set in a woman’s womb. I am dressed for seduction,” Fiona confessed as she stroked the soft skirts of her deep red gown. “I am also dressed to make myself feel beautiful and brave, for tonight I plan to tell Ewan what I feel for him.”

  Mab’s eyes widened. “That is a brave thing, and a verra large step to take.”

  “I but pray that large step doesnae send me plummeting off a cliff.” Fiona sighed. “He has been trying so hard to make me a part of his life. I can see that, feel it. Yet there is a hesitancy there. It could be because he is not used to sharing his thoughts and plans so freely. It could also be because he is still uncertain of me in some ways. Weel, tonight I will let him ken just how firmly he holds me in his grasp and see where that leads us. If naught else, I simply cannae keep biting back the words any longer.”

  “Sad to say, but the woman oftimes has to be the first to bare heart and soul.”

  As Fiona linked her arm with Mab’s and they started out of the room, she agreed, “Most unfair. But someone has to take that first step. Since I must also tell him of the child I carry tonight, I decided I might as weel cough up all my wee secrets and have done with it. See what a romantic fool I am?” She laughed along with Mab as they made their way to the great hall and Fiona prayed she would soon find the serenity and joy Mab had now.

  “Why are ye so nervous?” Gregor asked as he sat in a chair by the fire and watched Ewan pace his bedchamber. “Ye arenae the one getting married today.”

  Ewan stopped before the fire and stared into the flames. “In some ways, I am.”

  Gregor frowned for a moment, then sighed and shook his head. “Ye havenae told the lass y
e love her yet.”

  “Tis no easy thing for a mon to do.”

  “Nay? Ye just open your mouth and say the words.”

  “So speaks a mon who has ne’er loved a lass. Lusted mightily after a few, but ne’er loved a one.”

  “I suspicion I will one day.”

  “Aye, ye will, and when that day comes, I promise ye, ye will open your mouth and those words will refuse to come out past this sudden lump in your throat. Mayhap if the lass ye eventually love tells ye how she feels, freely and often, ye will find it easier. If she hasnae, if ye simply cannae be certain she feels the same, that lump will keep blocking the way out for those little words. A lump of pure fear. And why I can tell ye how I feel, but nay her, I dinnae ken,” Ewan muttered.

  “Mayhap because we are brothers, bound tight by blood and affection, and have known each other all our lives, ’tis easier.” Gregor sipped from his goblet of spiced wine. “Nay sure I like this talk of fear. Didnae ken falling in love involved fear.”

  Ewan crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the heavy stone frame of the fireplace. “It involves a great many of the more unpleasant emotions. Fear, uncertainty, doubt about one’s worthiness—”

  “Enough, please, or ye will have me disavowing love and lasses for all the rest of my days. Weel, love, at least.” He grinned when Ewan chuckled, but then grew serious again. “She loves ye, Ewan. I am certain of it.”

  “I would sorely like to be certain of it, too. Nay sure I will be e’en if she tells me so, at least nay for a while. What I am certain of is that she has some caring for me and wants to be wed to me. When she came to help rescue me that day, the way she acted o’er me and my wounds gave me the hope that I have won a place in her heart. Tis time to take a chance that she holds back the words I need because she, too, is plagued by uncertainty.”