Highland Promise (44 page)

        The time is now, Bren, a familiar Roman-accented voice said in his head. Call upon Saint Raphael with all your heart. You need say no more than his name. He knows your heart's desire.

        "Raphael!" His cry of anguish echoed across the valley, releasing a few more rumbles from the mountain above. He opened his pelt and wrapped Faith within its folds, holding her against his heart. Tears fell unchecked from his eyes. Grief ached through every bone and joint of his body until he thought they might rupture from the force of his anguish.

        A hand touched his shoulder, and he glanced up to see his sorrow mirrored in Michael's eyes. "Bren, we must take her back to the keep. Then I'll ride to the Ranald's for Father Cunningham."

        Saint Andrew, how could he let go of her to give her to God? She had been taken too soon. Without a word, he turned and carried her rigid form toward his mount, unable to bear the sympathetic gazes of his men.

        "What about Roland, laird?" Jamie asked. "Should we keep looking?"

        "Let the bastard freeze." Tormey spat in the snow. "'Tis a fitting end for the son of a bitch."

        Brendan paused. He had never apologized to anyone and this wouldn't be easy, but the Irishman would have his due. "Tormey?"

        The Irishman moved to his side. "Aye, laird."

        "I must beg your pardon. Of all of my men, I suspected you most."

        Tormey's face grew solemn. He met Brendan's gaze and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I know you never understood why your father wanted me around," he whispered. "Just know in your heart that I could never do anything to harm my brother. I would give my life for you and our father's clan."

        "You are my brother?" Brendan asked stunned.

        "Our father never wanted your mother to know of his infidelity. After his death, I saw no reason to tell tales on the dead." He shrugged and glanced away, failing to hide the hurt he had suffered. "I will continue to guard the secret. Now return to the keep and do what must be done."

        Brendan walked to his mount, knowing that soon he would right the wrong done when his father failed to acknowledge his brother.

        Tormey held Faith as Brendan mounted, then handed her stiff body up to him. With greatest care, he kissed her brow and gathered her into the folds of his cloak so she could rest against his heart one last time.

        He nudged his steed into what would surely be the longest ride of his life up the mountain trail toward his home. Home. He scoffed at the word. What kind of home could it be for him now that he no longer had Faith? Saint Andrew, help him, he should have guarded his treasure more closely.

        Her body grew pliant as if she relaxed against him. He decided it was his wishful imagination and tried to ignore her lingering scent. He noticed the stony faces of his men and knew he wouldn't have to break the news of Faith's death to the clan. His men had turned this trek into a funeral procession.

        "Laird Sutherland?"

        It was the faintest whisper from beneath the pelt and nearly stopped his heart. He eased his mount to a halt. Surely he was hearing things. With a shaky hand, he pulled back the cloak and stared into bewildered aquamarine eyes.

        "Faith?" he whispered and caressed a strand of raven hair from her face with trembling fingers. Saint Andrew, was she really alive or was he going daft?

        "Do not forget...your promise."

        "My promise?" he asked, still wondering if she had truly spoken.

        "When you go home…"

        He remembered this conversation from their first meeting. She had woken confused, but she was still alive. Joy whispered through his soul, and he leaned down to tenderly kiss her lips. "I promise when I go home, you will be going with me."

        "I will not cause trouble." She snuggled her cheek against him.

        "What about the horses?" he asked, wanting to keep her talking just so he could hear her sweet voice.

        "You will keep me safe." She shivered and groaned. "I had a strange dream. Saint Raphael wants you to build a chapel. Why am I cold and achy?"

        "Bren, are you all right?" Luthias asked.

        His men looked at him as if he had lost his wits. He realized that while they heard him speak, Faith's voice was too weak to reach them. What was he thinking! His wife was still in danger and needed to be warmed.

        "Luthias, Michael, ride ahead. Help Gemma with the tub, and start a fire in my chamber hearth." He pulled the cloak back over Faith's face to guard her from the chill. "Lady Sutherland is alive."

~ * ~

        Two weeks of confinement was long enough, for heaven's sake. Faith inched her way down the steps and peeked into the hall. The coast was clear. Her tyrant husband was nowhere in sight.

        Squaring her shoulders, she winced against the soreness. Her body had been covered with bruises after that ice slide, and all the lying around had made her stiff body ache worse. She didn't care about a little discomfort though. She was declaring her freedom today. Aye, she intended to be firmly ensconced in her chair by the hearth before her husband returned to the hall.

        Faith gritted her teeth and entered the huge chamber with all the hobbling grace she could muster. She called out greetings to Alfrid, Heather, and Gemma, who gaped at her as if they were seeing a ghost. That was Brendan's fault. He had kept her shut up with no visitors for so long they probably thought her dead.

        As she took her seat, she couldn't suppress a small moan. That spurred the others to action. Heather placed a small cushion behind her back, and Alfrid tucked a pelt over her lap.

        "Would you care for a lamb's wool, milady?" Gemma asked. "The apples have just finished steeping."

        "Aye, Gemma." She smiled at the housekeeper and tried to hide her fatigue. "A cup of lamb's wool would be welcome. I could also use something to eat if you will tell Annis no broth, porridge, or gruel. I want something that requires chewing."

        Glad to be free of her prison, Faith put up with the fawning threesome. After a light repast, she suggested a chess match, hoping the routine activity would make them treat her like a normal person again.

        Alfrid eagerly moved the gametable in front of her chair. Then he sat down and set up the chess set. She was so worried about the coming confrontation with Brendan that she couldn't focus on the match. What was more worrisome to her was her husband might be right. She was still ill. The malady that beset her before the avalanche hadn't lessened. Her days began with nausea and her stamina was nonexistent.

        "What in the name of all that's holy are you doing?" Brendan bellowed, entering the rear door of the keep.

        Faith nearly jumped from her chair. Then she turned an obstinate gaze upon the man. If she let him force her back to their chamber now, he would likely keep her there until spring. "I think I am losing, and Alfrid is about to win. And I do not like when you yell at me."

        "For the love of..." Brendan wiped a hand over his face in exasperation. "I never yelled at anyone until I met you, and Alfrid is not going to win because your game is over. You are returning to our chamber until whatever afflicts you is gone."

        "I am beginning to think Father Cunningham was right. You are penance after all." Faith clutched the arms of the chair and scowled. "I am not returning to our chamber until after the evening meal."

        "Here we go, milady," Annis said, coming into the hall. She set a cup on the gametable in front of Faith. "When I heard you were wanting more than broth, I rushed out to get some fresh milk for the bairn. You have to keep your strength up and eat well, especially after the scare you put the wee one through."

        The cook's words so stunned Faith that she almost fell from her chair. She placed a hand over her belly as her strange malady suddenly made sense.

        "What are you talking about, Annis?" Brendan demanded.

        "I am going to have a baby," Faith whispered in an awed tone.

        "Aye, she is," Annis proclaimed with a wide grin and vigorous nod that jiggled the folds of her chin. "Sick in the morn, and in the eve she has an appetite like a warrior in training."

        "This is so wonderful." Faith smiled at Brendan. "I am going to be a mother."

        He turned ashen and went down on one knee beside her chair. "But I have not touched you since the avalanche."

        Her cheeks flamed. "You touched me often enough before."

        "That means when you went down the mountain, you were already..." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Saint Andrew, I cannot believe you did not lose the bairn."

        "God sent you and Saint Raphael to save us both." She reached out to smooth the worry from his brow. "I am so happy, Brendan. I am going to be a mother."

        "You act as if you just learned of this. How could you not know?"

        She chuckled at his disbelief, feeling rather giddy herself. "God sent the great Archangel Gabriel to tell Mary she would be the mother of Jesus. He left the rest of us to figure it out on our own." Placing a hand on his shoulder, she kissed his forehead. "What think you of going to our chamber? You look like you need to lie down, and I would like to join you for a private celebration."

        Brendan kissed her, then lifted her into his arms and carried her toward the stairs. "You are a wench, Lady Sutherland."

        "And you are what I always suspected, Laird Sutherland," she replied, looping her arms about his neck.

        He cocked a brow and gave her his rascal grin she so adored. "What would that be?"

        "The answer to all my secret prayers, and I love you," she replied as they topped the stairs and headed toward their chamber.

        "Ah, lass, I love you too," he whispered in a husky voice.

        She gasped and tightened her embrace, looking searchingly into his eyes. "I cannot believe you said that. You think love is a weakness."

        He opened their door with his shoulder and carried her into their chamber, kicking the door shut behind him. "Loving you is my strength."

        His words filled her with the happiness of heaven, and she could have sworn she heard an angelic choir singing. "You have made me joyful."

        "Then my next words should fill you with ecstasy." He set her gently on the bed and towered over her. "You are staying in our chamber until the bairn is weaned."

        "Now you are trying my patience."

        "And I am staying with you." He leaned down and gave her a lingering kiss filled with all the love he professed.

        When the kiss came to an end, Faith smiled up at her husband, her defender, her promise for a blissful future. She was so blessed to have found him, and even more blessed that he returned her love. "You are not my penance, Brendan. You are my salvation."

Epilogue

Feast of the Epiphany, 1111

        Brendan quietly entered the bedchamber and paused to gaze upon his wife's glowing face as she stood beside the hearth. He lowered his eyes to appreciate her lovely form. His blood nearly boiled out his nose. "If you think for a moment I will put up with your padding again, then you're out of your ever-loving mind."

        Faith chuckled and turned to face him. "I didn't plan on anyone seeing me. I wanted to practice."

        "Practice what?" he asked, unable to hold onto irritation as her merriment flowed around him.

        She shrugged. "Being with child."

        He grinned at the enchanting blush surging over her cheeks. "So you are not through being fat?"

        "Not if I'm fat because our babe is growing inside me." She pulled a pillow from beneath her gown. Tossing it on the bed, she walked to him and took hold of his hands. "To what do I owe the wonderful surprise of this visit? You said you would be out all day preparing for the blizzard Alfrid's knees predicted."

        "'Tis the Feast of the Three Kings. I promised someone I would give you a gift."

        She gasped; her eyes danced with glee. "Who? What? Where is it? How long have you had it?"

        He stopped the flow of questions by wrapping his arms around her and kissing her until her knees buckled and she clutched at him for support. He drew back and flashed an arrogant grin at her dreamy countenance.

        "Now that your questions have ceased, I will get it." He set Faith on the side of the bed and went to his chest. He quickly retrieved the scroll pouch and carried it to his wife. Sitting on the bed, he rested an arm on the mattress behind her. "Before our wedding, I met a most unusual woman in the garden at White Tower. She said she was your sister and bade me promise I would give you her gift on this day."

        "Chris!" She grabbed the pouch in her excitement. "Why didn't she come see me? How could you wait so long to give me this?"

        "Just open it. You of all people should know a Sutherland always keeps his promises, so I couldn't give it to you sooner." He kissed her neck behind her ear and let her lavender-tinged scent flow through him.

        "Wait, Brendan." She leaned away from him. "Don't kiss me now. You know I can't think when you do."

        He expelled a martyr's sigh and watched her remove the rolled parchment. As she opened it, another scroll fell to the floor. She quickly grabbed it and resumed her seat beside him. "Do you want to hear what she says?"

        "Only if you wish to share her words." And he hoped to heaven the woman hadn't told of her relationship with Michael. Faith wouldn't be pleased he'd kept the secret.

        "I do want to," she said seriously. "Chris is my sister, so that makes you her brother. I want you to like her."

        "All right, share her words. But how can you think I would not like a woman with balls?" He chuckled and let her use his arm as a backrest.

        She blushed a becoming scarlet and began to read aloud. "My Dear Sister, after your epistle informing me of Leland's pending union with the Lowlander, I hastened to intercept you before you could carry out your harebrained plan of going into a convent." Faith glared. "She shouldn't call my plan harebrained. I thought on it long and hard."