Highland Thunder (Isle of Mull Series) (25 page)

“Duncan,” she cried as she lunged from the bed, cursing her weakness for surrendering to sleep. She threw the door open and burst through, colliding with Bridget and the dinner tray she carried.

Wine and a meal of oatcakes and stew coated Bridget’s tunic as she pulled the tray from her body.

“I suppose this means I do not have to wake you anymore,” Bridget chuckled.

Brenna grabbed the women’s arms. “Where is he, Bridget? Where is Duncan?”

“Brenna, he rests,” Bridget said, wincing.

“Oh God,” Brenna cried as she collapsed to her knees. “Oh, dear God,” she sobbed, clutching her heart

“Nay, Brenna. Nay, ‘tis not what I meant. He is sitting by the fire. See for yourself,” she said pointing to the tall chair in front of the blazing hearth.

Dumbstruck, Brenna stumbled toward the chair, holding her breath as she circled around it.

There he sat, slumped low with his head bowed in slumber and his feet resting on a stool.

Brenna turned to Bridget, “Why is he out of bed? He is not well enough.” She raked her hand through her unbound hair as confusion threatened to spill fresh tears.

“He is much improved, Brenna,” Bridget said.

“How can you be certain so soon?”

“So soon?” Bridget said. “Lass, you’ve slept longer than I think anyone ever has.”

“What do you mean?” Brenna said, bewildered.

“You’ve slept a full day and a half.”

Astonished, Brenna’s mouth fell open.

“You woke just long enough to use the chamber pot, and I managed to pour some wine down your gullet. You don’t remember, lass?”

Brenna shook her head in response.

“The worst is over,” she said as she pulled Brenna into an embrace. Then she chuckled. “Although I’m afraid, you are now also covered in your dinner.”

Brenna looked down at her stained tunic as relief coursed through her. She crept toward Duncan and lowered herself to her knees. As quiet as a whisper, she laid her head in his lap and exhaled slowly.

***

Duncan opened his eyes. As the blurriness dissipated, the red fire of Brenna’s hair in his lap roused him fully. His hands dove into the shimmering softness, but she stirred and sat up, robbing him of the chance to indulge in the unbound curls.

“I was enjoying that, lass, if you wouldn’t mind lying back down. I will tell you when I am finished,” he said, a wicked grin pulling at one side of his mouth.

Brenna smiled. “You are alive, Duncan. I will grant any wish you have.”

He stared at her for a moment, her eyes like sensual, blue pools, boring into his. With her aid, he stood. He winced as he straightened and felt a wave of nausea pass through him as the room started to spin. He waited for the dizziness to subside. Then he pulled her into his arms and kissed her with a fury of passion, pressing her against his body.

Vaguely, Duncan discerned the sound of a throat clearing, followed my Ronan saying something about Duncan saving his strength for the training fields.

Duncan ignored the intrusion as he started towards the bedroom, never taking his lips from hers.

Ronan wrapped his arms around his wife as they watched the newlyweds disappear.

“Do you think ‘tis wise for him to…ah…exert himself so soon, Shoney,” Ronan said as he nuzzled his wife’s neck.

“Shoney is it? Lately, even when we’ve been alone, you have called me Bridget. I almost forgot the sound of my real name on your lips.”

“Whether Bridget or Shoney, you are my wife, the mother of my many daughters, and forever my pagan queen,” Ronan said, pressing a kiss to her lips. “I’ve a mind to take you to our bed and prove to you just how much I love you, but first, wife, answer me. Should he not rest a wee bit longer?”

She laughed as she pulled him toward the exit. “If the dagger could not kill Duncan, I do not think Brenna will. You on the other hand may not be so lucky when I am through with you.”

He lunged forward, scooping her into his arms. “I can think of no finer way to die.”

***

Brenna slid onto the bed, pulling Duncan over her. “We shall have to build a bigger hut”, she said. “Having lain together on such luxury, I cannot imagine sleeping on a pallet ever again.”

He smiled. “My bed could be made of stone as long as you slept beside me, Brenna.” Then his gaze grew ardent. “Wife”, he whispered.

Her heart ached with sweet fullness as he continued. “In secret, you have been the center of my world. And now I look down and I see my hands upon your body. I feel your lips graze mine. ‘Tis hard for me to believe. I never allowed myself to hope for this.”

“I love you, Duncan”, she said. With downcast eyes, she continued. “I thought you were going to die.”

He crooked his finger and lifted her chin. His black eyes shone as a slow smile spread across his face. “The woman of my dreams asked me to marry her. I could been hacked to pieces, and I would have found a way to live.” He kissed her hard and quick before he continued. “Brenna, now we shall be a family. You and Nellore shall forever be mine.”

“Nellore
is
yours”, Brenna said as her eyes filled with tears. Duncan looked away and whispered, “You know then that Nellore is my daughter?”

She nodded her head, but still she could not speak.

“Brenna, she is our daughter. You have naught to fear.”

She gasped and pulled him close. “Aye, Duncan. I ken. I am overwhelmed by the grandness of it all. I feel as though God laid his hands on our souls and blessed us with a world richer than I could have ever imagined. Nellore is our daughter.”

“And I shall never let either of you out of my sight again”, he vowed. “Never.”

“Hush”, she said as she soothed his brow. “Save your fervor for when you are well, and we can consummate our marriage properly.”

“At this moment, I feel like a king”, he said as his warm lips covered hers.

She sighed into his mouth and pressed her body flush to his. Then with a groan, she pulled away. “It ends there with a kiss, my love, for you must rest.”

His hand followed the contours of her waist and hip and then trailed down her thigh. “This once you can play nursemaid and refuse me, but never again will I be denied.”

She raked her hands though his hair and brought her lips a breath from his as she said, “And neither shall I be.”

Chapter 28

Brenna stood in the threshold of the great hall, keeping a tight hold on Nellore to prevent her from racing toward Duncan who, along with Ronan, Cormac, and Jamie, hauled the massive Yule log across the courtyard.

“’Tis a beauty,” Brenna shouted to the men who labored under the weight of the great tree.

Duncan smiled while Brenna and Nellore skirted out of their way as they entered the hall. “Funny,” Duncan said, “’Tis just what I was thinking.”

Brenna’s faced warmed when she realized he was speaking of her and not the log.

The hall was alive with music and feasting. Holly and ivy garland hung from the mantle and trimmed the tables and chairs. Ropes of evergreens encircled the tall wooden columns that framed the hall, running down the length of each side. The heavy scents of mulled wine and venison stew made Brenna’s mouth water.

As the men labored through the hall with the log, the room erupted with cheers. Yule was at hand. The sun was reborn. The days would begin to grow longer, and the birth of the son of God would save their souls. They had much to celebrate. Brenna twirled Nellore in a dance as Ronan and Duncan shoved the tip of the tree into the hearth.

“Here, Duncan,” Jamie laughed as he handed Duncan a jug of ale.

Duncan doused the log in the golden liquid and then retreated to stand by Brenna. His fingers twined around hers as they watched Bridget parade a flaming shard of wood through the hall.

“’Tis a piece of the log from last yule, Nellore,” he said, pointing to their lady. Nellore clapped with delight. He scooped her up to provide her with a better view of the spectacle. Bridget wound her way through the hall to stand before Ronan who accepted the flame from her extended hand. He raised the fire above his head, and once again the room erupted with cheers. Then he set the new log ablaze. It would smolder for the next twelve days.

Duncan placed Nellore on her feet and pulled Brenna into his arms into what was at first a crushing embrace, but then he swore and pulled away, dropping to his knees. He felt her slightly rounded belly. “Did I hurt you,” he said.

“Nay, my love. You cannot hurt me or our baby with a hug.”

Duncan stared up at her, his eyes wide with apprehension, but the reassurance he glimpsed in Brenna’s eyes calmed his soul.

“Happy yule, little Rose,” he whispered to her stomach.

“And what if we have a boy, Duncan. Will you still call him Rose?” she laughed.

He pressed a kiss to her stomach and then stood, pulling her back into his arms. “’Tis a girl, Brenna. I am sure of it. And her name is Rose.”

“’Tis a miracle, Duncan. Of that, I am sure,” Brenna said.

Duncan drew close to kiss his wife again, but a sudden commotion outside stole his attention. The door began to swing open. He shielded Brenna and Nellore behind his back.

“’Tis only Kenneth,” Brenna said.

“Where is the laird?” Kenneth cried. “Where is the MacKinnon?”

Ronan and Bridget came forward. “What news, Kenneth?” the MacKinnon said.

“Your grandson has arrived. Logan is here.”

Once again the hall erupted into cheers as the revelers poured out into the courtyard to welcome their future chieftain. Duncan scooped Nellore into his arms and grabbed tight to Brenna’s hand. Together they joined the flood of onlookers in the courtyard.

“There he is,” Duncan said when a young boy entered the baily.

“He could be no one else but Bridget’s grandson with that coloring,” Brenna laughed.

He was a tall lad of eight years with gleaming flaxen hair and even from the distance his silver eyes shone.

“Poor lad must be scared,” Brenna said.

Duncan nodded. “He has left behind his home, his mother. What child would not be afraid?”

Nellore began to wriggle in his arms. With a kiss, he set her down, but he did not expect her to dart into the crowd. Fear snaked around his heart as his daughter disappeared.

“Nellore,” he called.

“Duncan, she is safe, surrounded by our kin. You must begin to release your fear,” Brenna said as she wrapped her arm around his waist. They watched as Nellore pushed through the throng, landing on her bum a few steps from the frightened lad.

Duncan started forward to go after her, but Brenna stopped him. “Wait, Duncan. Let us see what she is about.”

Nellore climbed back onto her feet and closed the distance between herself and Logan. She gazed up at him for a moment, and then she reached out and took his hand in hers. Slowly, a smiled spread across Logan’s face as the two walked toward the castle. The sea of MacKinnons parted to allow their passage.

Duncan smiled when his daughter and the young lad walked by. “She did not want him to be afraid,” he said.

Nellore and Logan stopped in front of Ronan and Bridget who stood framed in the castle threshold. Bridget kissed her grandson, and then scooped Nellore into her arms. Ronan laid his hand on Logan’s shoulder and then pulled him close, enfolding his heir in a warm embrace.

When Ronan at last released the lad, Logan reached into his sporran and withdrew a missive. Reading the scroll, Ronan absently ruffled Logan’s hair, but then his eyes jerked up from the page and scanned the crowd until his gaze found Duncan’s.

“Come, Brenna,” Duncan said. “The MacKinnon has news to share.”

The gleam in Ronan’s eyes hastened Duncan’s approach. He followed Ronan into the empty hall.

“Lachlan, laird of the Skye MacKinnon, received word that Alexander MacDonald is dead,” Ronan said.

Duncan’s brows rose with surprise. “How?”

“He died at the hand of the MacDougall.”

A slow smile spread across Duncan’s face. “Angus Og is now laird of the Clan Donald.”

“Aye,” Ronan said. “Now we have an alliance and such a force it shall be.”

Duncan thought of the sincere and stalwart young man now in possession of the MacDonald wealth and power. He remembered Angus’s quiet conviction and his commitment to the Scottish throne. Together they would stand and fight.

The tide was shifting. Bloodlust coursed through Duncan’s veins.

He turned to look at Ronan. “Now all we need is a king.”

Dear Reader,

I hope you enjoyed Highland Thunder, the second book in the Isle of Mull series, as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thank you so much for your kind support.

Connect with me on facebook at https://www.facebook.com/lilybaldwin

If you have yet to read the first book in this series,
To Bewitch a Highlander
, then keep on reading. I’ve included a bonus excerpt.