Highland Vixen

by Mary Wine

  “I know.” Ailis spread her arms wide. “Ye persist in keeping yer thoughts to yerself. I would nae have to keep asking ye if ye explained why ye will nae tell me what is on yer mind.” Ailis pointed at her. “And ye know very well I am talking about yer husband.”

  “There is naught to say.”

  Ailis smiled at her, but it was the sort of expression that promised Helen an interrogation.

  “I’m hungry,” Helen announced as she stood and left her half-sewn skirt in the chair behind her. “I’ll go fetch us something from the kitchens. Best stay here, or the boys will be on yer heels in a moment. Ye know Bhaic told them he’d tan their hides if they let ye go down the stairs without help.”

  “Me husband can sleep in the stable for all I care.”

  Helen smiled as she left the chamber. Finley and Lyel were leaning against the wall near the top of the stairs. They tugged on the corners of their bonnets as she passed.

  What was she thinking? Truly, she wished she knew.

  In many ways, her life was so perfect. But that was what alarmed her. Perfection wasn’t something that reality offered. At least, she had never found such to be the case. Happiness might come and touch her for magical moments that warmed her to the center of her heart, but it never lasted.

  She felt on edge, as though she were waiting for something to crash through the window she was looking out and allow the bitter cold to blow against her. The snow was so beautiful when one was buffered against its chill.

  He hadn’t said he loved her.

  It shouldn’t bother her so much, or if it did, she should collect her courage and confront him. But if she did so, he might destroy the contentment they enjoyed by telling her he did not share her feelings.

  Coward.

  She was surely that, and yet not without reason. Her life was good now, far better than she might have expected from any match her father could have made for her. With Duana gone, the rest of the staff was showing her respect, while Marcus made certain she was well satisfied every night in their bed.

  Coward? Perhaps wise was more the word.

  It would be foolish to demand more, and most men did not think love was for their gender. They might indulge it, even smile when it was bestowed upon them, but they did not return it.

  Indeed, it would be wise to see how full her life was and not long for more.

  Yet she did.

  The kitchens were warm and filled with the scent of roasting meat. Bhaic had ordered more livestock slaughtered so his wife could have fresh meat, even during the months when most made do with oats and ale. It was a luxury, and Helen drew in a deep breath before instantly regretting it.

  Her belly heaved, and she clamped her mouth shut as the urge to retch nearly strangled her. She raced to the privacy closet, getting there just in time before losing what was left of her dinner. Yet that did not relieve the nausea. It seemed to have her locked in its grip as she tried to collect her composure.

  “I wondered when that would happen,” Senga said when Helen emerged. She snapped her fingers at a younger maid who stood with a bowl and a cloth in hand. The young Robertson who Bhaic had rescued with Ailis was now taking command as personal attendant to Ailis and Helen. “The laird will be overjoyed.”

  The scent of the roasting meat was still enough to make Helen heave. She didn’t pay much attention to Senga, instead hurrying out of the kitchen, and gulping in fresh air. It helped, so she went all the way onto the steps to gain air that wasn’t stale from being inside the castle walls. There was still a chill in the air, but her stomach settled and she sighed with relief.

  “Ye haven’t bled in months.”

  Senga had followed her. Helen turned to look at the young woman. “How would ye know?”

  Senga offered her a satisfied look. “As I told the mistress, I will prove meself. Ye have no’ asked for any cloth, and it has been four months since yer return from Sutherland.”

  Four months?

  There was a scuff on the stairs as Finley came down them fast enough to break his neck. His eyes were wide, and he reached for Helen while he was still running.

  “The mistress… Quick now, woman… She’s having that babe.”

  * * *

  “Should ye nae be above stairs with the women?”

  Katherine looked at Robbie and shook her head.

  “But there is a baby being born,” her new friend persisted. “The women are gathering in the mistress’s chambers. It seems to take a lot of women for a baby to be born.”

  “It’s much more fun to be here with you,” Katherine said.

  Robbie considered her for a long moment. “Ye do nae act much like a girl.”

  “That is because you are such a good teacher,” Katherine informed him.

  Robbie flashed her a grin before he gestured her after him. “Let’s go down by the river and see if we can find some rabbits to hunt. The cook might even give us some treats if we bring back meat.”

  Katherine nodded and waited to tuck her skirts up until they were out of the castle. She longed to wear a kilt like Robbie, but didn’t want to risk Ailis taking exception to her friendship with the boy. So it was better not to bring attention to herself. That was a lesson she had learned very young. Whenever someone noticed her, it was likely to be a very bad day for her.

  Such as the day her noble father’s wife had noticed her and put her out of the house. There had also been the day when Scottish men had noted her blue blood and taken her across the border to sell to the regent of Scotland. She recalled that day very well.

  Yes, much better not to have anyone notice what she was about. Which was working out splendidly, because boys had ever so much more fun than girls. Robbie had shown her how to wrestle and use a dagger, and now he was sharing his lessons in archery.

  “I bet if ye dressed like a lad, no one would notice ye’re a lass,” Robbie said as he watched her fight with her skirts. He laughed. “It would be fun, too.”

  “All right,” Katherine agreed. In fact, it was better than all right; the idea sounded perfect to her. The sun couldn’t rise soon enough. Everyone back in England would be disgusted by the Highlanders around her, even young Robbie. Savages. Barbarians. That was what the English labeled them.

  Katherine saw them differently. They were strong and honorable. There were even bastards among them who did not live a life of scorned rejection. The truth was known, yet they took their places and lived peacefully. It made her wonder what the true meaning of savage was, because if the Highlanders surrounding her were in fact uncivilized, she wanted to dispense with such manners immediately.

  So that was exactly what she would do.

  A new day and a beginning to a new life for her.

  * * *

  “Are ye disappointed?”

  Bhaic stared at his wife incredulously. “She is the most precious thing I have ever seen, except perhaps for ye.”

  He was holding his tiny daughter as carefully as an egg. Her little head was supported in one hand while he cupped her bottom in the other. “We’ll name her Sorcha, and no’ another word from ye, Ailis. Ye’ve given me a fine, healthy child and are here to celebrate that with me. That is all I prayed for.”

  He laid the infant gently in Ailis’s arms and tucked back some of his wife’s hair. “Be strong, me love. I know naught of raising a daughter, so ye must be here to see it done properly.”

  “I am fine,” Ailis assured her husband, but she was sleepy. Her eyelids fluttered as she sighed.

  “Is she truly well?” Bhaic asked Helen when she came to pick the baby up.

  “I believe so.”

  He nodded, the worry in his eyes proving how deeply the couple loved each other. Helen felt her own feelings for Marcus stirring inside her. She had so much, and yet it was incomplete without a declaration from Marcus.

  Damn her
for a fool, for she longed for more in spite of all the reasons not to. Of course, Marcus had always defied logic. That was why she loved him.

  * * *

  McLeod Castle

  “Ye summoned me?” Janet Ross asked her husband.

  He looked up from his desk and gestured her forward. “I would speak to me wife in private, lads.”

  The two retainers standing inside the door both reached up to tug on their caps before they turned and left, pulling the door shut behind them.

  Janet ventured closer, so that their voices might be lowered.

  “I’ve had a letter from Laird MacPherson. It seems…” Laird McLeod had trouble getting the words out. “It seems he intends to have his daughter returned home.”

  Janet’s eyes rounded with horror. “He can nae. She is more my child than his. Me dear niece. She is me blood.”

  Her husband made a soothing motion with his hand. “I am sorry for that, Janet. Ye would have made a fine mother, and I know it is me failing that sees ye with only another man’s daughter in yer arms. I do wish ye’d reconsider having a lover.”

  “I will no’,” Janet declared in a hiss. “Fate dealt us both an unkind blow when that stallion trampled ye. Still, I shall no’ be tempted to commit mortal sins because of it. I am yer wife, and I will no’ be an adulteress.”

  Laird McLeod sighed. It was an old argument that he always lost because his wife was one of the finest women in the Highlands. Which was why he had to find a way to stop Laird MacPherson from recalling his daughter home.

  “Laird MacPherson sent his son for Jocelyn, but the weather drove him back. Now that spring is spreading, I fear Marcus MacPherson will be upon our land within the month.”

  Janet’s eyes glittered with unshed tears. “She detests her father.”

  “Aye, I know it well, and yet he is her sire.”

  Janet had wrapped her arms around herself, as if she were attempting to keep her heart from breaking. Laird McLeod didn’t doubt that it was. Curse and rot the creature that had broken his member. The thing had never risen again, not since the first two weeks of his marriage to the fair Janet.

  “We shall go to me sister’s home in the Lowlands,” Janet suddenly announced, hope brightening her features.

  “For what reason?” Laird McLeod asked.

  “There Jocelyn will have the opportunity to learn more about the world. Times are changing. A lady needs a proper education. Perhaps I will even take her to court,” Janet assured him. “The roads are passable for us now. We shall leave before the ice thaws on MacPherson land.”

  “I want to tell ye nay,” Laird McLeod said. “Her father is likely making a match for her.”

  “Well then, I shall just have to secure a grander one before the end of the summer. One that will keep my baby close to me.”

  Janet smiled at him, her eyes full of hope. She was already running names through her mind, weighing their merits.

  “Yes, that is exactly what I shall do.”

  She lowered herself before she swirled around and left the room. He didn’t deserve her devotion, and yet he could not truly bring himself to lament the fact that she would not consent to have a lover in order to conceive. Perhaps he could not be a true husband to her, but she held his heart, and he didn’t think he would be able to hide his hurt if she welcomed another man into her bed as sweetly as she had him.

  Curse Fate.

  He sat up straight and pulled a fresh piece of parchment onto the desk. Janet adored Jocelyn MacPherson. Shamus MacPherson had two sons and a grandchild on the way. He would have to live without Jocelyn, because Janet had no child and had raised the girl.

  Fate owed him that.

  He dipped a quill into an inkwell and began to pen a note to his banker so Janet would have the funds she needed for an extended stay in the Lowlands.

  * * *

  “Plump and delicious…”

  Marcus growled as he fingered the swells of Helen’s breasts above the edge of her corset. She lowered herself onto his member, a small sound of delight escaping her lips.

  “If I’d known how much I’d enjoy being on me back beneath ye, Wife,” Marcus exclaimed, “I’d have snapped that Gunn’s neck for putting his dagger in me shoulder. To think I’ve missed having ye ride me for the last few months.”

  “Mmmm…” Helen purred as she leaned down and moved faster. Pleasure was building inside her, but she didn’t rush it now. In fact, she fought back the urgency, clinging to the moments she was able to be joined with him.

  It ended in a burst, her body shuddering while Marcus curled up and wrapped his arms around her and erupted inside her. In spite of the cool night air, they collapsed onto the bed, their bodies too warm to touch for several moments. They lay near each other, their panting the only sound in the chamber.

  During the night, Marcus curled up along her back. He seemed unable to sleep unless he was touching her. It pleased her too, allowing her to rest so deeply that she awoke feeling more alive than ever.

  At least that was the way of it until the next day.

  Marcus was stroking her as she awoke. The feeling of his hands on her skin was wonderful and warm. She let out a little sigh as she felt him move up behind her, his member thick and swollen. She was smiling and lifting her bottom when her belly suddenly intruded. Nausea rolled through her in a thick wave as she scrambled to grab the sheeting and pull herself from the bed. Her bare feet slapped against the stone floor as she ran toward the closet.

  She got there just in time before she began heaving. Her stomach wasn’t content with merely sending its contents up; the organ seemed intent on turning itself inside out. Her dignity had deserted her as she retched and finally collapsed in a quivering heap on the floor. It was chilly and she stumbled to her feet, making a clumsy entrance back into the bedchamber.

  Only to find her husband in his shirt, offering her his flask. She took it, but wrinkled her nose at the scent and handed it back untasted.

  “I’m fine,” she offered, but he continued to consider her silently. “I said—”

  “I heard ye, lass,” Marcus informed her gently. Too gently. The man never coddled her, and she liked it that way.

  “And just what do ye mean by that?” She was suddenly hot, her skin feeling as though she’d been running through a meadow in the summer heat.

  Marcus crossed his arms over his chest. “It means I’m waiting for ye to tell me.”

  “Tell ye what?”

  He resumed silently contemplating her. In an abrupt shift, Helen discovered herself fighting back tears. It was humiliating, and she turned her back on her husband as she tried to scrape together her composure. She heard him let out a harsh breath.

  “I must be doing this wrong.” He wrapped his arms around her just as the tears stinging her eyes defied her order to remain unshed and trickled down her cheeks. “But I will nae go seek out me brother and ask him for advice while ye are shivering and weeping because of me.”

  He nuzzled at her hair, inhaling her scent and sighing as though she were the perfect woman. Her hot tears splattered on his arm where he had it wrapped around her.

  “Christ, Helen,” he said softly. “I can nae bear yer weeping. Does it make ye so unhappy to be carrying me child?”

  “Ye know?” she asked as she turned and ducked under his arm. He might have kept her bound to him easily, but he let her go.

  “Ye fascinate me.” His eyes glowed with intensity. “From the moment ye came near me, ye’ve drawn me attention like naught else. Ye have nae bled, yer breasts are swollen, and now ye retch in the morning. For all that I am a man, I know a thing or two about how babes begin their entrance into life.”

  “Aye,” she admitted as it dawned on her what he’d said. “Oh, ye were waiting for me to tell ye. That’s what ye meant.”

  He nodded once, his expressi
on becoming guarded. That drew her attention to him. “Why does it matter? If ye already know, there is little point in me telling ye.”

  He looked away. Helen let out a snort. “Why would ye be having trouble meeting me eyes, Marcus?”

  He snapped his gaze back to hers, aiming the frustration he’d tried to hide straight at her.

  “Ye are everything to me, Helen,” he rasped out. “I’ve killed for ye and would nae hesitate to do so again if needed. I followed ye to court, a place I loathe, and yet ye stand here, miserable.” He couldn’t seem to remain in his position, pointing at her. “Why? Tell me, for God’s sake, so I can have a fighting chance.”

  Marcus MacPherson, the man who never showed weakness, was looking at her with desperation flickering in his eyes. It edged his words, his tone breaking with the abundance of emotion. It struck her straight to the heart, making her feel like a wretch for causing him even a tingle of unhappiness.

  “I love ye.”

  “As I love ye!” He threw his hands into the air but didn’t look away. “Explain why ye weep.”

  He reached out and captured her wrist to hold her in place. “And tell me the truth, or I fear I will go mad from the need to see ye satisfied.”

  Instead, Helen felt her eyes welling up with fresh tears. They spilled over, and she didn’t try to stop them. For the first time in her life, they were happy ones. Marcus looked at them, shaking his head as he tried to comprehend her.

  “Ye never told me,” she whispered. “I said ‘I love ye’ when ye rescued me, but ye never…said…”

  He blinked several times while her words sank in. “Did nae say?” he said incredulously. “Christ, Helen, I am a War Chief. When I stripped away the evidence of who I was so I could enter Sutherland Castle and find ye, that was telling ye I love ye more than me own life.”

  “Ye might have been thinking it was yer duty.”

  He scoffed at her and pulled her against him. “It was, and yet that is no’ why I went in there under the threat of being hanged as a spy.”

  He suddenly scooped her up and carried her back to his bed, working them both under the covers and pulling her close.