Highland Belle (26 page)

Why would she cause trouble for me? Avril scoffed. Besides, ye havena answered my question.

Antonia is causing me trouble, not you. The Countess of Dunridge is a title to which she aspired. She cares nothing for your marriage.

Avril was silent for several moments, digesting that bit of information. Ill believe ye, she said finally, if ye swear that isna my husbands bastard.

Before Brigette could open her mouth, a hand grabbed Avrils shoulder and whirled her around. With the flat of his hand, Magnus slapped her hard. How dare ye! How dare ye accuse Brie of such a thin, and she eight months gone wi Dunridges heir!

B-b-but —

Shut yer mouth, Magnus roared. Do ye actually believe I wouldve dishonored Iains wife? Besides, ye couldve questioned me. Yer behavior is unbecomin a Duchess of Argyll. Apologize at once.

Avrils face was crimson. Im verra sorry for upsettin ye. Sincerely sorry.

Antonias poison can be very convincing, Brigette replied. Ive also fallen prey to it several times.

Accept my apology also, Magnus added. I wouldna have Iain or ye upset for anythin.

A Highland blizzard, the first of the season, swept through Dunridge the following week, forcing Brigette and Glenda to pass their leisure time sitting in front of the hearth in the great hall. Afternoon playtime was very much different than it had been previously. The shrieks of blindmans buff and other wild games no longer echoed in the chamber.

Dunridge was a ghost keep. Black Jacks presence was sorely missed. Returning to Edinburgh, Percy perched at court like a bird of prey, ready to swoop down at a moments notice upon Sheena Menzies. Iain was especially busy with his new duties as the Earl of Dunridge and head of the MacArthur family.

As Christmas approached, Brigettes burden dropped, making her even more ungainly. Her waddle was slower than a snails pace.

Brigette tried to make the holiday cheerful, but failed dismally. She did manage, however, to elicit hearty laughter from Glenda and Iain when she presented Sly his gift. The fox became the not-so-proud owner of a doublet, fashioned from a MacArthur plaid.

Supper on the eve of Hogmanay passed quietly, although the MacArthur warriors drank heavily and began dicing as soon as the trestles were pushed aside. Lady Antonia was noticeably absent, preferring to greet the new year alone in her chamber. When Moireach called Glenda to bed, Iain and Brigette sat alone at the high table.

Glancing sidelong at him, Brigette thought how tired he looked. Im going to bed, she announced, drawing his attention. Ive a raging headache and my back hurts. Stay and share a few cups with your men.

Iain helped her stand, but when he would have escorted her upstairs, she refused, saying, Spring shall see to my needs.

I willna be late, he assured her, then kissed her cheek.

Clad in a heavy robe, Brigette sat in front of the blazing hearth. After helping her change, Spring had left, but returned a few minutes later with a cup of warmed wine. Moireach had ordered it to ease Brigettes lower backache. Not only did it ease her discomfort, but her eyes closed drowsily in sleep.

Iain, feeling more relaxed than hed been in over a month, climbed the stairs to his chamber. My father has been taken from us, he thought, but my son will soon fill that void. Or daughter, he reminded himself, entering his bedchamber.

Ohhh . . . A low moan sounded near the hearth.

Iain crossed the chamber quickly and knelt in front of Brigette, then nudged her awake. A sharp cramp gripped her lower abdomen and doubled her over, leaving her breathless.

Im wet! Fear and confusion leaped from her eyes.

Its the baby. Ill fetch Moireach. Iain stood, but was rooted to the spot.

Dont just stand there. Brigettes voice rose in panic.

Will ye be all right alone? he asked nervously.

Get Moireach or youll be playing the midwife. Ohhh!

Iain sprang to life and flew out of the chamber.

A few minutes later, Iain returned with Moireach and Spring. Firstborns are notoriously slow, the housekeeper said. This will be a long night.

Ive wet myself, Brigette told her.

Fetch a clean nightshirt, Moireach instructed Spring. Then wake Kevin and tell him to keep water boilin.

Ohhh! Another spasm gripped Brigette. She moaned like a wounded animal and clutched at her husbands hand.

Moireach chuckled, noting Iains pallid complexion. The fiercest of warriors was quaking, helpless in the face of his young wifes labor. Perhaps it willna take so long as I thought, she remarked, helping Brigette into the clean nightshirt. Iain, help her up. I want ye to walk aboot wi her.

I cannot walk, Brigette cried. Im in heavy labor.

Heavy labor? Moireach grinned. Dinna be a ninny. Walkin aboot will make yer delivery easier. When the pain grabs ye, hang onto Iain and pant. Yell ken when yer labor gets heavy.

Worse than this?

Dinna be frightened. Moireach patted her shoulder. Yer in capable hands.

Time passed slowly. Within the protective circle of Iains embrace, Brigette paced the chamber. Each time a contraction trapped her in its agonizing grip, Brigette groaned and leaned heavily against his solid frame.

I hear bells, she said at one point.

Ye know, he replied, Father Kaplan welcomes the new year wi the tollin of the bells.

A new year and a new life, she murmured. An excruciating pain, worse than any other, stabbed Brigette. She cried out and nearly fell to her knees.

Put her to bed, Moireach said. Iain lifted and carried Brigette across the chamber to the bed. Without a thought to modesty, the housekeeper pushed up Brigettes nightshift, exposing her distended stomach and swollen breasts, then gently examined her. Go downstairs, Iain, and send Spring wi the water. lain nodded. I willna be long, he assured Brigette.

Ye must remain in the hall wi yer men, Moireach insisted.

But —

Yer wife willna thank ye in the mornin for watchin her laborin.

Dont leave me, Brigette wailed as another contraction knifed through her lower regions.

I willna leave ye, hinny.

Humph! Moireach snorted in disgust. The wife was falling to pieces beneath the husbands kind encouragement. At this rate, the baby would take days to be born. Lady Brigette, she chided, yer behavior is unseemly. A Highland woman bears her burdens bravely.

Im not a Highlander, you old crone! Im English! Tell her, Iain. Tell her Im English. The absurdity of her statement split Iains face into a broad grin.

You bastard, Brigette screamed. You dare laugh at your dying wife? You did this to me. Ohhh! Another contraction ripped through her.

Pant, Moireach ordered. Pant against it. Through her pain, Brigette heard the voice of authority and obeyed.

Relax, Moireach crooned, massaging Brigettes stomach. Im sendin Iain for the water. Brigette nodded, too weary to protest.

Dinna return until I send for ye, the housekeeper whispered out of the side of her mouth. Ye ken? He nodded and left.

Battle-fatigued, Iain found Spring and then retired to the great hall. Several groups of men still drank and diced in the far corners of the chamber. Iain beckoned Dugie and Jamie, then sat at the high table and called for ale.

How fares Lady Brigette? Dugie asked.

Sufferin horribly.

Its expected in a laborin woman.

Shes in capable hands, though, Jamie interjected.

Women die in childbirth, Iain said miserably.

Yes, but many dinna, Jamie countered.

Our mother safely birthed two, Dugie offered, and shes alive and breathin, helpin Lady Brie.

Iains expression cleared somewhat. My own mother safely birthed three.

Lady Antonia safely birthed wee Glenda, Jamie added.

Mary of Guise safely birthed our bonnie Queen Mary, Dugie upped his brother.

And the Popes mistress safely birthed —

Iain burst out laughing, then suggested they sit in front of the hearth. This time he called for whiskey.

Hours passed. Instead of emptying, the hall filled as news of the impending birth passed through Dunridge.

Just before dawn, Iain left the hall with Sly. He paused in the foyer and looked anxiously toward the stairs, then headed for the snow-carpeted garden.

Sly darted here and there while Iain, sick with dread, paced furiously. Bloody battles were nothing when compared to his wifes torment. Not knowing whats happening is the worst part of it, he told himself repeatedly. Given a choice, Id prefer being the one in labor. He smiled inwardly, thinking his wife would certainly disagree.

Tentacles of light crept into the eastern sky. Iain called Sly, and the two returned to the great hall, now filled to capacity with MacArthur warriors and retainers.

My lord! Iain whirled around at the sound of Springs cry. Its a boy!

A deafening cheer shook the rafters. Iains mouth dropped in shock, but his feet moved. He dashed out of the hall into the foyer, then took the stairs two at a time. As his hand touched the doorknob, Iain heard the lusty wail of a baby. My son! he thought, filled with wonder, then walked in.

Congratulations, Moireach smiled. Black Jack wouldve been proud of ye. Then she was gone.

Brigette was sitting up in bed. Her breasts were bared, and attached to one was a tiny dark head, leisurely working a nipple.

Meet our son, she said, a tired yet triumphant smile on her face. She detached the baby from her nipple and turned him around to face his father. Isnt he perfect? He resembles you.

Perching on the edge of the bed, Iain scrutinized his son. The baby was large for a newborn, dark-haired and ruddy, and wrinkled like a wizened old man.

Well, Iain hedged, he does have my colorin, but I was never that ugly.

Iain!

Dinna worry, hinny. His skin will smooth out in time — I hope.

Iain!

The baby wailed, as if protesting his fathers insult, and cooing, Brigette offered him her nipple. The baby quieted instantly, making his father smile.

What he lacks in appearance, he possesses in brains, Iain quipped, his dark eyes glowing with love. What intelligent mon wouldna crave a taste of yer sweetness? He caressed her cheek, then leaned close and kissed her tenderly. Thank ye for my son, lovey.

Want to hold him?

Yes. Iain reached for his son and cuddled him awkwardly against his chest. His name will be John Andrew, for my father.

Agreed. Who will stand as his godparents?

Magnus and Avril Campbell, Iain answered. The duke or his heir always stands as godfather to Dunridges heir. Its a tradition. Perhaps well betroth him to their firstborn lassie.

Brigette arched a brow. Another tradition?

Iain grinned. No, good politics.

The baby whimpered, and Brigette held out her arms to take him. Scheme away, if you must, she returned, but I have what John Andrew desires most in this world. With that, Brigette offered the baby her nipple. As she watched her son, joyous contentment filled Brigettes heart to overflowing. With her husband by her side and her son in her arms, Brigette knew a peace shed never imagined possible. Nothing bad could ever break through their circle of love to harm them. Nothing.

16

The tip of Brigettes nose tickled and twitched. Opening her eyes, she found herself staring into the thick mat of black hair covering Iains chest. They lay on their sides, their naked limbs entwined intimately.

Peering up at his face, Brigette saw that he slept. A lusty gleam, boding ill for her husbands peace, shone from her eyes. Ever so lightly, her hand glided down the side of his body and fluttered across his stomach to caress the masculine appendage nestled at his groin. Her fingertips swirled around and around the knob of his shaft until it grew and pulsed, almost angrily.

Lassies who play wi fire get burned. Iains husky warning sounded above her head.

Surprised, Brigette looked up into his dark, smoldering eyes, but her fingers never faltered in their tantalizing motion. Youd best be careful yourself, she challenged softly.

Iain chuckled throatily and moved to capture her, but Brigette was faster. She pushed him onto his back and straddled his hips, then smiled lazily down at him.

I give up, Iain surrendered. Do wi me as ye will.

Youre very easy, Brigette murmured, and lowering her hips, impaled herself on his erect shaft. Both gasped at the incredible pleasure of female softness meeting male hardness as she began to move up and down, tauntingly.

When Iain flicked his thumbs across the dusky buds of her breasts, a jolt of scorching desire ran from the sensitive tips of her nipples to the core of her womanhood. Brigette burned and throbbed. The first wave of pulsating pleasure washed over her, carrying her away in its relentless surge.

Iain yanked her down. Savagely, he suckled upon a milk-laden breast.

Iain! Brigette exploded and clung to him.

With a quick twist, Iain flipped her onto her back. He drew her legs over his shoulders and rammed his raging dragon into her hot, throbbing lair.

Brie! he cried, shuddering his own completion.

Panting, they lay motionless. When his breathing eased, Iain kissed her lips and the tip of her nose, then gazed into her eyes and smiled. Whatever happened to my virgin Gypsy? he asked.

You seduced her.

Bang! The chamber door crashed open, and Moireach entered with their squalling son in her arms.

Oh, Brigette cried, embarrassed. Iain chuckled and withdrew from her body, then pulled the coverlet up to his waist and leaned back against the headboard.

Dinna tell me ye were sleepin, Moireach warned. I heard yer matin howls belowstairs. Wee Black Jacks hungry and verra angry wi his mother.

I told you, Brigette corrected, reaching for her son, John Andrews nickname is Dubh. Black Jack is no proper name for a three-month-old baby.

Ouch! Dubh ferociously attacked his mothers nipple, teaching her the folly in keeping him waiting for breakfast.

Theres nothin improper aboot callin him Black Jack, the housekeeper argued. Dubh is the Gaelic for dark and Black Jack means . . . Black Jack. Wherein lies the difference?

Its what Iain and I prefer, Brigette insisted. We are his parents, are we not?