Highland Intrigue (Duncurra Book Book 3) (31 page)

“My da and mum have decided to let me train here as Laird MacLennan’s squire.”

“Well, that’s not so bad. Fingal is nice. He is really good with a sword too. If I were a lad, I would want to learn how to use a sword from him.”

“Really?”

“Of course. And there are other really good warriors here too. Ye can learn a lot from them.”

“I just—well I...”

“Oh, ye don’t want to leave yer home.”

He blushed bright red and looked away. “Aye.”

“Ye might really like it though.”

“Da said I couldn’t bring my dog.”

“Ye could have. Fingal would have let ye. He likes dogs. My sister’s dog saved her life.”

“It isn’t that. He isn’t just mine. I have a younger brother and sister and cousins who live at Naomh-dùn. Da said it wouldn’t be right to take him away from them.”

Ailsa considered him for a moment. He was awfully skinny. But, he had pretty eyes. They weren’t bright blue like Quinn’s but they were still pretty. She couldn’t imagine having to leave home and not take Duff with her. “I wouldn’t make this offer to just anyone, but ye seem nice. I will share Duff with ye while ye are here.”

“Would ye really, Ailsa?”

“Aye. He seems to like ye anyway.”

Dougal smiled at her, scratching behind Duff’s ears with both hands. “Thank ye. That’s really nice of ye. It will be much easier to be away from Naomh-dùn if I can share Duff with ye. Oh, and Ailsa?”

“Aye?”

“If ye don’t find someone to marry ye when ye get old enough, I will.”

Ailsa beamed.

~ * ~

The celebration continued until nearly sunup. Fingal was finally able to escape with the woman who held his heart. He gathered her in both arms, capturing her lips in a soul stirring kiss. She moaned and melted into him. “I have missed holding ye in my arms.”

“I have missed it too.” She twirled her fingers in the hair at the base of his neck.

“The feast was wonderful. Everyone seemed to enjoy themselves. I know it took days of work and planning to get ready for it. Thank ye.”

“Ye are welcome, husband. I agree, it was wonderful. Fallon is deliriously happy.”

Fingal grinned. “Quinn is too.”

“And what about Turcuil?” Gillian asked. “For someone who doesn’t know
pretty words
he sure managed to wield a few.”

“Aye, I guess it took Edna’s absence to finally get him to act. Tadhg and Mairead seem very happy too. I was a bit worried at first when they were married. She has always been a sweet little thing, but very shy. I’m glad to hear they are expecting.”

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.”

He emitted a low growl of pleasure and lifted her into his arms, carrying her to the bed.

“Put me down, Fingal. Katherine said not to put too much strain on yer arm yet. I’m too heavy.”

“Nay, ye aren’t, but if it is the bed ye want, it’s the bed ye’ll get.”

She laughed as he feigned dropping her on it, but then lowered her gently, capturing her lips again, kissing her deeply. He trailed kisses down the long slender column of her neck. She purred and leaned into his touch, closing her eyes. He stroked her body with both hands as he hadn’t been able to do for over a month even as she boldly explored his body with her hands. He was sure there was no feeling this side of heaven to rival her touch. They kissed and caressed each other leisurely, giving and taking pleasure in equal parts. Finally, he joined with her. The world disappeared around them. They existed in a place of pure sensation and unending pleasure. He was poised at that moment of anticipation, just before release—sheathed in her, one with her. Her muscles contracted in a shuddering climax and her release became his own.

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. Still, perhaps we should try it again in the morning.”

“Ye’ll get no complaints from me. We can just keep trying until we know it worked.”

“Mmm.”

He thought she had dozed off when she asked, “Fingal?”

“Aye, my love.”

“We don’t need to stop trying, even once we know it works.”

“Whatever ye wish, Gillian.”

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, “Tomas 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.”