Labor of Love

by Felicia Rogers

  Grant moved toward the hole, but stayed on the side with the falls.

  “Nay, Grant. I meant, go through to the other side.”

  He slid through. Sorcha stepped from the water, slipped off her dress and rushed into the falls, allowing the cold water to flow over her.

  ****

  Grant hesitated to let her out of his sight. Every time he did she disappeared. There had to be another way to the enclosed area.

  A small pool of water existed on his left side. He shed his clothing, jumped into the water, and swam. Above him was a stone which harbored a small opening underneath. Swimming through, he ended on the same side as Sorcha.

  Under the waterfall, she stood allowing the water to cascade along her frame in a steady rhythm. Her hands scrubbed at her hair and her skin. When finished, she sauntered to the rocky shore. Grant gulped, she appeared farther along in her pregnancy than he realized.

  On the shore she sat on a rock allowing the sun to warm her. Grant bit his nails, watching her every move. Before long, she donned her dress and headed back toward the crevice. So far his presence had gone undetected.

  “Grant, would ye like a turn?” Sorcha whispered.

  Leaving his place, he dove back into the water and swam under the boulder to the other side. He exited the water, and hauled himself out. Unclothed, he stood upright as Sorcha slid through the hole.

  A grunt caught his attention. Sorcha turned her back to him, hiding her embarrassment. “I see ye already had a turn.”

  “Aye,” he said, dressing in a hurried fashion.

  No more was spoken as she followed him up to the ridge and the waiting horses. They hadn’t attempted to look for Tom’s footprints. Both of them knew Sorcha couldn’t continue along the trail on foot. The ground was too treacherous and the path wasn’t clear.

  Grant was more concerned than before. The babe was close to coming, and they were running out of time.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Nigel spun in a full circle in front of the cave’s miniscule entrance. “Where are they now?”

  Lorcan scratched his head. “Son, what do ye think?”

  Festus picked at the horse droppings, and Nigel cringed with disgust. “They were here.”

  Nigel’s hands shot to the air with aggravation. “I could have told you that much!”

  Festus frowned. “If ye don’t like the work I’m doin’ then I will just go home. Otherwise ye be quiet, and let me concentrate.”

  “I’m impressed,” said Nigel, awed the giant buffoon could speak such a long sentence.

  Lorcan said, “I told ye he was a great tracker.”

  “Nay, I didn’t mean his tracking abilities. I meant I was impressed he could string that many words together and still make sense.”

  Festus’ lunged at Nigel. Nigel stepped aside and missed being rammed by a hair, sending Festus barreling into the side of the rocky cave. Nigel’s men instantly surrounded him. He wagged his finger at Festus. “Naughty, naughty.” Whispering Nigel added, “Don’t you ever attack me again, or instead of Sorcha, you will burn on the pole. Do you understand?”

  “Aye, I understand.” Festus stalked away, gazing with hatred at Nigel.

  Nigel turned his attention to Lorcan. “You are the one who thought of this bright idea from the beginning, from the double burning, to enticing my wife with a child. But I grow weary of this goose chase. Make it clear to Festus my patience is at its end, and I wish to find the couple with all haste.”

  “Well beggin’ ye grace’s pardon,” sarcasm dripped from the words like honey from a comb. “I believe Festus is going as fast as he is able. It isn’t like he is working on his own. I mean, everywhere we go we have to lug a huge wagon full of supplies, ye have to bath, yer men need to stop and find a privy, which takes practically all day. Then they want to cook a full course dinner. I never seen so many lily livered sissies in all my days.”

  Lorcan lifted his finger and shook it. “Ye get something straight, they’s the ones impeding progress, not my boy.”

  “Are you trying to imply if Festus went alone he could find the two of them more quickly?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying!”

  “Very well. We will make camp, and wait on him to return.”

  Lorcan frowned, appearing unhappy with the turn of events.

  Nigel asked, “Is there a problem? Am I not giving you what you asked for?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Nay? I thought you were asking permission for Festus to speed up, leave his hindrances behind, so to speak. Is that not what I am giving you? Now if you have nothing left to say, tell Festus to scurry along like a good little rat. Then you come back here, and we will find a place to make camp.”

  Lorcan hesitated. “Nigel, I have to ask, what if Festus don’t make it.”

  “I guess that is always a possibility. Grant Cameron, unlike his brother, seems to be a seasoned warrior. But I fail to see the problem.”

  “Ye fail to see the problem! He is my son. I don’t wish for his head to be unattached from his body. And besides, I am not sure if I know the way back to the city from this location. We need him.”

  “Oh, finding our way home shall not be a problem. One of my lily livered sissies has been drawing a detailed map of our route since the beginning.”

  “Well, then, hmm. If we lose Festus we will have no way to continue to track the couple. And if he finds them, how will he let us know? It would take him too long to return to us and we might lose them in the process.”

  “Lorcan, Lorcan, you worry far too much on trivial matters.”

  Lorcan opened his mouth but Nigel lifted his palm to stay him. “I will send men to follow Festus. They will stop at points along the route. Each person will only run back to the next one, and so on and so forth. This way Festus will only run to the last man and be less prone to lose Sorcha and Grant when, and if, he finds them.”

  Lorcan shut his lips, pressing them into a thin grim line.

  “Now do as I said. Tell your son good-bye and send him on his way. My men will be right behind him.”

  ****

  Darkness descended, and Sorcha ached for a bed.

  The tips of down feathers poked her through the mattress, against her face. Using her hand she rubbed at a spot, trying to push the prickly feeling away.

  “Ow girl, what are ye doin’?”

  Sorcha awoke slapping Grant. Whiskers from a couple of days of beard growth pricked her skin. Drool collected at the corner of her mouth and she swiped it away with the back of her hand. Side — by — side they lay in a small glen covered with tall grass. During the night, her head must have scooted over and landed next to his face.

  Sitting up she tried to push away, but he pulled her back, snuggling her deep into his side.

  “Nay, I didna wish for ye to move, only that ye quit slapping me.” He yawned. “Why were ye slapping me?”

  Dew settled on their cover and sucked the heat away. Relaxed against him, she enjoyed his warmth. Once she was comfortable she responded. “I thought yer face was the tip of a goose feather.”

  He laughed. “I think I should be offended.”

  “Nay. I was comparing the rest of ye to a warm, down filled mattress.” She blushed at the way that sounded and hoped he couldn’t see her face, as she buried it against him.

  “Sorcha, ye are a complete enigma.”

  “An enigma?”

  “Ye know, like a puzzle. I can’t figure ye out.”

  “Believe it or not I know what ye meant by the word. I just disagree.”

  “Ye do, do ye? Then ye believe ye are easy to understand.”

  “Aye, I am. What ye see is what ye get.”

  Grant stroked her hair with his hand, allowing the silken strands to flow through his fingers. Damp tendrils to his nose, he inhaled deeply. “Well maybe it is just me, but I canna figure ye out. Ye are affectionate, but shy. Bold, but restrained. Good with a bow, yet not willing to harm a fly. Also ye don’t
talk much about yer self, which is like no other woman I have yet to meet.”

  Sorcha’s chest tightened, her throat constricting. She didn’t talk much about herself? She gulped. Despair over the need to tell him about herself and the babe, overwhelmed her. But what if, what if he left her? Why would he protect her if she no longer carried Cameron blood? Would he protect her because it was his duty as an honorable man to protect those weaker than himself? Would he protect her because he cared for her? Hope for the later soared within her breast.

  Her tension was palpable. Sorcha pried her body away from his before he noticed. When he tried to pull her back, she claimed need of the privy. It was true, but mainly she needed the privacy it would afford. Decisions had to be made about what information to share.

  ****

  Grant rose from the ground and repacked their gear. Something was wrong with Sorcha. Anytime he mentioned getting to know her, she became tense and upset. He couldn’t help it, the more he was with her the more he wanted to know about her. Perhaps if he opened up to her, she would open up to him? At a small nearby creek he washed his face. He returned right as Sorcha came back.

  “Are we ready to go?” she asked.

  “Aye, we are.”

  They continued to ride together, the second mount carrying their gear. Sorcha sat sideways in front of him. Was she comfortable? Was the shape of her body causing problems?

  She sat away from him, as if trying to avoid his touch. Was he that horrendous to her? Perhaps the feel of him reminded her of other touches. Had Samuel been gentler with her? Could she ever care for someone like him?

  “Are ye comfortable, lass?” Grant asked, breaking the silence. “Ye can lean back and get more comfortable if ye wish.”

  “Nay, I will do.”

  The tension between them was driving him crazy. “Have I done something to offend ye?”

  The response he received was a surprise. Facing him, she buried her head against his chest, and sobbed. Her tiny arms wrapped around him in a tight hug like she was afraid he would vanish. He remembered a similar feeling of love and dependence when his sisters would hug him. However, her touch felt more like a caress. It connected his body and his inner being.

  His heart rate increased. Readjusted, she leaned away from him. He nudged her chin up. Her rosy lips parted in protest, but he covered them with his own.

  At first she struggled in his grasp, but as his lips moved against hers, she relaxed and kissed him in return. A fervent sense of urgency was expressed in the kiss as she moved closer, drawing his lower lip between her teeth and biting down, sending his heart into double time.

  His hands roved everywhere: in her hair, on her neck, running down her back. Placing his hand on her covered thigh, Grant felt the heat escaping through her thin dress.

  The horse kept moving, even as they held one another. Limbs filled with leaves slapped at their sides. Birds chirped as they moved through the lonely wood.

  Grant plied Sorcha with kisses. Her lips, her cheeks, her eyelids, her pert little nose, every exposed surface was graced. Any intentions of stopping before it was too late flew from his mind.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “Look at that, Ma; must be newly wedded.”

  Sorcha broke apart first, blinking. Her chest heaved as she fought to regain her breath. Grant wasn’t much better himself. If the old man hadn’t intruded he might not have stopped. The unexpected intrusion kept him from seeking a soft patch of grass to lay her on.

  Sorcha poked him in the ribs, while trying to put her person back in order. She resembled someone who had just been loved, and he couldn’t stop from smiling at the notion he had given her that look.

  “Pa, I think ye must be right. Look how they are staring at one another.”

  The old couple continued to watch them. Grant dismounted and helped Sorcha to the ground.

  A gasp of surprise escaped the old man’s lips. “Well they be wedded a tad longer than I expected!”

  Ma backhanded him across the chest. “Maybe he is just good stock, or maybe he enjoys pleasurin’ his wife.”

  “Now Ma, don’t start with me. Ye know I love ye when I’m able and when my bones ‘ill let me.”

  Grant caught Sorcha shifting from side to side. Whispering in her ear, he asked, “Are ye all right, lass?”

  “Aye, but I really need the privy.”

  He laughed. All he could think of was loving her, and she was focusing on the privy! Personal needs for them both, he guessed.

  He looked to the elderly couple. “Would ye happen to have a privy the lass could impose upon?”

  Ma answered, “Sure do. Come around back of the cabin and I will get ye taken care of.”

  Sorcha’s eyes widened. “A cabin? Ye mean a small homey building with a roaring fire, and a soft bed?”

  “I didna mention those things, but aye, we have them.”

  “Oh, Grant, can we stay?” she turned her gaze toward him, her eyes twinkling with delight and her hands held in a thoughtful pose.

  “Now lass they didn’t exactly invite ye to stay.”

  Sorcha’s face fell.

  Pa piped up. “The thing is we are having a celebration tonight, and people from all around these parts will be coming with food and the like. We generally put the company up in the barn. But,” he thought for a moment then looked to Ma, “What would ye think about staying with the company tonight and letting the youngsters have the bed?”

  Sorcha opened her mouth to interrupt but Grant silenced her with a look.

  Ma responded, “I guess we could for one night.”

  “There ye go, lass. Ye go with Ma and relieve yer self, and I will help yer man get settled.”

  Sorcha bowed and followed.

  The two of them completely out of sight, Pa glanced over at him. “Ye got a pretty lass there. Congratulations on the babe.”

  Grant could only nod.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  The celebration began not long after Sorcha returned. Ma, who introduced herself as Maude, had given her a new dress, a pair of shoes, and even some well-used underclothes that had once belonged to her daughter. Sorcha was overwhelmed by the family’s generosity. They seemed to have so little, yet they gave in abundance.

  Tables filled with dishes piled high with food littered the front yard. Couples milled about. Children played. Men prepared for work.

  Maude found Sorcha a seat. She watched the crowd and gnawed on her lip. Nestled deep in the wood as they were, far from any visible road, they should be safe. Turning her head, she glanced behind her. Large trees sheltered the party. Bushes and foliage surrounded the house, barn, and people. That could give Nigel and his cohorts a place to hide.

  Sorcha turned her attention to her hostess as Maude introduced her to the other women seated at one of the tables. As they spoke, a couple of women began to take notice of Grant. He was impossible to miss. Head and shoulders towered above the others. Light brown hair, which normally lay right above his shoulders, was pulled back with a string, showing off a strong muscular neck. Tan skin was exposed to the ladies’ roving eyes as his tunic was cast aside.

  “Who is that?” one of the women asked.

  “I’m not sure. But I can tell ye this. He isn’t Irish.”

  “Nay, he is way too big.”

  “And way to strong.”

  “And way to tan.”

  “Then who is he?”

  “Ask the new lass. He is with ye, right?”

  Sorcha’s breath caught in her throat. With all her attention focused on Grant, she could barely listen to the ladies’ questions. Worry and fear for their safety fled from her mind.

  Clearly he was the handsomest creature she had ever laid eyes on. The waning sunlight glinted off his exposed skin. Muscled forearms rippled with every movement. While he worked to erect a small shed, he hefted a board and caught her staring. A crooked smile and a wink passed between them.

  One of the women clucked her tongue and waved her hand.
“How sweet. He winked at her. Why Maude, I believe the young girl is blushing! They must have just married.”

  Sorcha cleared her throat. “Aye, he is with me.” The statement didn’t fit the conversation, but she refused to lie outright. Fear kept her from sharing her situation. Truly, she would have loved to say more to the young unmarried women, like paws off, or get your own man, but she didn’t have a right to do so.

  Grant was completely available to anyone he chose. Could he choose her?

  She placed a slap to the side of her head. What was she thinking? He would never want her for a wife. No one would, once they knew her past.

  Sorcha straightened her spine. This was not the time to wallow in self — pity, but to enjoy herself. It was a rare moment. Once they left, she would be traveling to Scotland to begin a new life. When they arrived, Grant couldn’t leave her. That would be the time to tell him the truth and hope he didn’t wish to be rid of her.

  A fake smile plastered on her face she looked at the ladies. “Now we’ve cleared that up, what’s next?”

  ****

  Grant helped with the physical building of the shed. It felt natural to perform hard labor. When he noticed the ladies staring at him, and caught Sorcha red handed in the same act, he was surprised at how good it made him feel. She was easily the prettiest lass of the lot.

  He had winked at her and turned back to his work, keeping a steady eye trained in her direction as the evening progressed. When the shed was finished, the men wandered over to their women folk, sat down, and waited to be served. Grant didn’t want Sorcha to serve him.

  Headed straight for the tables laden with food, he picked up his own plate and started the process of filling it. A prick was felt as Sorcha dug her nails into the fleshy part of his arm.

  “What are ye doin’ lass?” he whispered.

  “What am I doin’? What are ye doin’? Are ye trying to embarrass me? Do ye want me to look like a sloth of a wife? Are ye trying to make the men feel sorry for ye?”