Gillian sighed. “I want a baby. I loved the idea of being pregnant even if I might not have been. I want to be a mother.”
“I want to be a father too.” He kissed her again.
“Well, husband, I only know one way to make ye a father but it is a bit harder to do standing here by the door.”
~ * ~
Afterwards, he held her long, slender body in his arms, simply savoring the feel of her. She was his perfect mate in every way. He looked forward to years of bliss in her arms.
“Fingal?”
“Aye, my love?”
“I’m not sure if that worked or not.”
In his drowsy, replete state, he didn’t understand what she meant. “I’m sorry, sweetling, ye don’t know if what worked?”
“I don’t know if I made ye a father.”
Fingal chuckled, realizing she was teasing. “I hear it takes a while to know for sure if it worked.”
“Aye, so they say. Perhaps, for good measure, we should try again in the morning.”
“Whatever ye wish, Gillian.”
Epilogue
Brathnead Castle June 1367 (six years later)
Eighteen year old Ailsa MacLennan sighed as she watched the men on the training field, searching for the one man who made her heart flutter.
“Aunt Ailsa,” five year old Ian poked her with his wooden sword, “I want to go play swords with them.”
Ailsa bounced eighteen month old Duncan, Gillian and Fingal’s other son, on her hip while Duff ambled around at her feet. “Ian, how many times has yer da said, ye can’t go near the training field without him?”
“We are near it now. We can see it.”
“Aye, we can see it, but we are way up on this hill, we aren’t near it.”
“Da might think we’re near it.”
Ailsa suspected he was right, but what Fingal didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him and he was unlikely to find out. Fingal was with Gillian while she delivered their fourth child. He was the only man she knew who defied the midwives and stayed with his wife during labor and birthing.
“I could go ask him,” Ian offered.
“Ian, yer da is busy at the moment. Do ye want to watch the men or not? I can take ye to Aunt Fallon if ye don’t. That’s where Adaira is.”
“I don’t want to go to Aunt Fallon’s. The lassies are no fun to play with and her lad Evan is just a baby like Duncan. Even ye and Duff are better than them.”
Ailsa knew she had wielded the right weapon. Ian would rather do anything else than spend the afternoon with his three year old sister and Fallon’s five year old twins, Suisan and Cecilia. “Then wheesht about being too near the training field and watch.”
Ian pretended to fight with his wooden sword, imitating the moves of the men on the field. After a few minutes he asked, “Aunt Ailsa, why do ye like watching the men train? Ye don’t even have a sword.”
Ailsa blushed in spite of herself. Unlike her young nephew, she didn’t climb the hill to watch the men train in order to learn how to use a sword. There was one warrior in particular who she came to see. She thought he was the most handsome man alive. Watching his strong, muscular body move with fluid grace as he sparred with another warrior gave her a strange fluttering feeling in her belly.
Ian poked her again with his wooden sword drawing her from her reverie. She frowned at him. “Stop that.” Ailsa tried to imitate Gillian’s “mama isn’t happy” look, but feared she failed miserably.
“But I asked ye a question. Why do ye like watching the men train if ye don’t even have a sword.”
“That’s a good question, Ian.”
Ailsa spun around to see Fingal’s nephew, fifteen year old Tomas MacIan walking up behind them. Tomas had become Fingal’s squire two years ago after Dougal MacKay had outgrown the role. Evidently he was a good squire but for her it was like having an annoying little brother. “What are ye doing here?” Ailsa demanded.
Tomas’ eyes twinkled, “I think ye should answer Ian’s question first.”
Ailsa blushed. She had no intention of telling them the real reason. Thinking quickly she said, “Well, not that it is any of yer business, but I do have a sword.”
“Ye do?” asked Ian. “Where is it?”
“That’s my sword,” she said pointing to Ian’s toy.
“It is not,” said Ian. “Tomas gave it to me, didn’t ye Tomas?”
“Aye, lad, I did.” Tomas grinned.
Ailsa smiled smugly. “And where did Tomas get it?”
Ian frowned. “I don’t know.”
“Uncle Fingal gave it to me.” Tomas said.
That was just the answer Ailsa had expected. Her smile broadened. “And where did yer Uncle Fingal get it?”
“I’ll play yer game,” Tomas said. “I don’t know. Where did Uncle Fingal get it?”
Turning her attention to Ian she said, “Yer da, got it from yer mama. And yer mama got it from me. But I only loaned it to her which means it’s still mine.”
Ian frowned, putting the sword behind his back. “What does a lass need with a sword and why did ye have one anyway?”
“The reason I had it was because yer grandda, Duncan, who ye are named after, little man,” she said to Duncan, tickling his belly, “really hoped that I would be a lad. He made it for me before I was born.” At the look of concern on Ian’s face, she said, “But don’t worry, Ian, ye can keep the sword. I don’t need it and I’m sure yer grandda would be glad ye have it.” She smiled at her nephew before turning back to Tomas. “Now that I’ve answered Ian’s question, I believe ye owe me an answer, Tomas. What are ye doing up here?”
It was Tomas’ turn for a smug smile. Pointing over his shoulder at Brathanead keep he said, “Ailsa, ye do know this hill can be seen from the laird’s bed chamber don’t ye? As I understand it, Uncle Fingal’s furious with ye. He sent Peggy to find me, to tell ye to come back to the keep with Ian and Duncan.”
“I told ye Da wouldn’t like it,” said Ian.
Tomas laughed. “Smart lad. Come with me Ian,” said Tomas. “I’ll teach ye how to slay a dragon with that sword.” Tomas headed back towards the keep and Ian ran along beside him. Duff started to follow, but stopped and looked back when Ailsa too didn’t immediately join them.
Ailsa sighed. She cast a wistful glance over her shoulder before following Tomas and Ian.
~ * ~
This had been the easiest bairn so far. Gillian had given birth to her newest daughter after only a few hours. As had become tradition, Fingal stayed at her side throughout her labor. Tira had teased him, “Laird, this is the fourth baby ye’ve delivered, why do ye even bother calling me?” As soon as the baby was born and they had Gillian tucked into a freshly made bed, Tira and the other women who had helped left them.
Fingal stood at the window, cradling his new baby daughter in his arms. “My sweet wee lass, yer Aunt Ailsa will be the death of me.”
Gillian laughed. “Fingal, Ailsa wouldn’t let Ian or Duncan get hurt.”
“That’s not the point. She knows I don’t want them that close. Why does she insist on watching the men train anyway?”
“Fingal, can ye be that much of an eejit? She fancies herself in love.”
“Ye need to nip that in the bud.”
Gillian snorted. “I need to nip it in the bud? We are talking about my sister Ailsa aren’t we? I don’t think we need to worry. She falls in and out of love more often than we change the rushes in the great hall.”
“Aye but that young man has the reputation of being a rogue.” The baby began to squirm and root, becoming fretful when she couldn’t find what she sought. Always alert for trouble, Bodie, who lay in his usual spot by the hearth raised his head, his ears perked.
Gillian chuckled. “She’s fine Bodie. Bring her to me Fingal, she’s hungry. And don’t forget, ye had a bit of a roguish reputation at one time too.”
“I know I did. That’s why I want him to stay away from her.” He moved away from the window, “Toma
s is bringing them back now anyway.” Fingal placed their daughter in Gillian’s arms.
Gillian pulled her shift down so the baby could nurse. “I wouldn’t worry about it just yet.”
Fingal frowned “She’s eighteen. We need to arrange a betrothal for her.”
“Now ye sound like my mother.” His scowl deepened causing her to laugh again. “Perhaps we have put it off too long. Give me a few days to recover and we will talk with Ailsa about it.”
“I’ll give ye all the time ye need, but I may have to knock a few young men in the head if we wait too long.”
Gillian’s heart swelled. She loved how protective Fingal was of her family. “Come, sit by me Fingal.”
Sitting beside them on the bed, he slid one arm around his wife’s shoulder and put the other one under her arms, holding the baby. He kissed the top of Gillian’s head. “I love ye Gillian.”
“I love ye too Fingal.”
He caressed the baby’s head while she nursed. Gillian glanced up at his face and smiled. He was lost in adoration. “What shall we name her?” she asked.
“How about, Touch-me-and-my-father-will-kill-you?” he suggested.
Gillian laughed. “I’m sorry, Fingal, I didn’t care for that name when Adaira was born and it hasn’t grown on me since.”
Fingal sighed dramatically, “You may regret yer hasty decision someday. What name do ye suggest?”
Gillian gazed at her beautiful daughter for a moment before saying, “I think we should name her Jean.”
Fingal stroked the baby’s tiny hand and she tightened her grip around his finger. “Jean. Aye, perhaps that’s a better name. Jean it is then.”
“Jean,” Gillian whispered.
They sat like this in silence and Gillian’s mind wandered to those early days of their marriage when she wasn’t sure she would ever like Fingal, much less love him. How very wrong she had been. The MacLennans had been on the brink of ruin. Over the last six years he had helped rebuild them to the powerful clan they had once been. That had earned him everyone’s respect. And if saving her clan wasn’t enough, he had also gently and persistently worked to win her heart from their first moments. He was a strong leader, a loving husband and a devoted father. She could ask for nothing more and she loved him with every fiber of her being.
Jean had stopped nursing and fallen asleep. Gillian pulled her shift back up.
“Shall I put her in the cradle and let ye rest?” Fingal asked?
“Nay, I’ll hold her for a while. Perhaps ye should go fetch our other three wee hellions and bring them to meet their new sister.
Fingal kissed her tenderly. “Whatever ye wish, Gillian.”
About The Author
Ceci started her career as an oncology nurse at a leading research hospital, and eventually became a successful medical writer. In 1991 she married a young Irish carpenter who she met at a friend’s wedding. They raised their family in central New Jersey but now live with their dogs and birds in paradise, also known as southwest Florida. With their youngest off to college, Ceci is breaking away from “primary efficacy endpoints” and writing a few “happily ever after’s.”
Follow Ceci on social media:
Website: www.cecigiltenan.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/cgiltenan
Twitter: https://twitter.com/CeciGiltenan
Other Books by Ceci Giltenan:
The Fated Hearts Series
The books in this series have related characters but each is a complete story which stands alone.
Highland Revenge, Fated Hearts Book 1 (novella)
(This book contains very limited, mild sexual content and mild swearing)
Does he hate her clan enough to visit his vengeance on her? Or will he listen to her secret and his own heart’s yearning?
Hatred lives and breathes between medieval clans who often don’t remember why feuds began in the shadowed past.
But Eoin MacKay remembers.
He will never forget how he was treated by Bhaltair MacNicol—the acting head of Clan MacNicol. He was lucky to escape alive, and vows to have revenge.
Years later, as laird of Clan MacKay, he gets his chance when he captures Lady Fiona MacNicol. His desire for revenge is strong but he is beguiled by his captive. Can he forget his stubborn hatred long enough to listen to the secret she has kept for so long? And once he knows the truth, can he show her she is not alone and forsaken? In the end, is he strong enough to fight the combined hostilities and age-old grudges that demand he give her up?
Highland Echoes, Fated Hearts Book 2
(This book contains very limited, mild sexual content and mild swearing)
Love echoes.
Grace Breive is strong and independent because she has to be. She has a wee daughter to care for and, having lost her parents and husband, has no one else on whom she can rely. Driven from the only home she has ever known, she travels to Castle Sutherland to find a grandmother she never knew she had.
As Laird Sutherland’s heir, Bram Sutherland understands his obligation to enter into a political marriage for the good of the clan, but he is captivated by the beautiful and resilient young mother.
Will Bram and Grace follow the dictates of their hearts, or will echoes from the past force them apart?
Highland Angels, (Fated Hearts Book 3)
(This book contains mild swearing, but no explicit sexual content)
Anna MacKay fears the MacLeods. Andrew MacLeod fears love.
Anna, angry with her brother, took a walk to cool her temper. She had no intention of venturing so close to MacLeod territory—until she saw a wee lad fall through the ice.
Andrew becomes enraged when it appears the MacKay lass has abducted his son, his last precious connection to the wife he lost—until he learns the truth. Anna, risked her life to save his beloved child.
Now there is a chance to end the generations old hate and fear between their clans.
Fate connects them. The desire for peace binds them. Will a rival tear them apart?
The Pocket Watch
(Coming as a single e-book in December 2015)
(This book contains mild swearing, but no explicit sexual content)
When Maggie Mitchell, is transported to the thirteenth century Highlands will Laird Logan Carr help mend her broken heart or put it in more danger than before?
Generous, kind, and loving, Maggie nearly always puts the needs of others first. So when a mysterious elderly woman gives her an extraordinary pocket watch, telling her it’s a conduit to the past, Maggie agrees to give the watch a try, if only to disprove the woman’s delusion.
But it works.
Maggie finds herself in the thirteenth century Scottish Highlands, with a handsome warrior who clearly despises her. Her tender soul is caught between her own desire and the disaster she could cause for others. Will she find a way to resolve the trouble and return home within the allotted sixty days? Or will someone worthy earn her heart forever?
Link back to the Table of Contents
Forgiving Hearts: Duncurra 1-3 Page 75
