Highland Warrior (22 page)

“Ye truly do love her, dinnae ye.”

“I think I have from the start, although I called it lust. A much more acceptable feeling for a mon. I tried to keep a distance between us because I kenned she could twist me into tight knots and devastate my verra soul. It didnae work. I am but verra fortunate that she isnae the sort of woman to use what I feel for her against me, even in small ways.”

“Nay,” agreed Gregor as he finished his drink and stood up. “I believe she loves ye. And e’en if she doesnae quite yet, ’tis there to be wooed out of her. Ye didnae see how she acted when she kenned ye were captured, how she fretted o’er ye each time ye were hurt, and ye didnae see how your attempt to keep her at arm’s length troubled, e’en hurt her. I did. Near all your brothers did. And all of us have seen this as a good match from the start, long before we kenned what she could bring to a marriage.”

“Weel, I am nay sure I believe all that, but it certainly gives me courage.”

“Ah, Ewan, she is just a wee lass.”

“She is my heart, my future,” Ewan said quietly, then ignoring the slightly stunned look upon Gregor’s face, said, “Weel, let us go and see the old fool married. Again.”

Fiona sniffed and wiped away a tear as Fingal kissed his blushing bride. She ignored Ewan’s grin as he led her to their table. Men never seemed to be moved by a wedding as women were, and she found that a sad flaw in them.

The celebration quickly got under way, and she was pleased to see how well everything had turned out. The food was plentiful and hot. The music was actually pleasant to listen to. Even Peter was clean although that had been a battle she did not care to recall. How such a small man could have left six hulking MacFingals bruised and battered, she did not know. She caught sight of Ciaran laughing with some of the younger
boys and felt a sweet joy warm her heart. At the moment, all seemed right with the world and she intended to savor that feeling.

“The old fool looks quite pleased with himself,” said Ewan as he took her hand in his and brushed a kiss over her knuckles.

“He does,” she replied after a quick glance at Fingal, who was happily arguing with Sigimor. “The change in the mon is quite wondrous, isnae it.”

“Wondrous indeed. He is now simply a wee bit odd.”

She laughed. “Mab will be good for him. S’truth, she has been good for him for years, a true friend and companion.”

“After I thought on it all for a while, I realized that. She has always been there, for him, and for us, since the first day she rode into Scarglas. In truth, she has been more a mother to us than all of his other wives. I think that is why so many of my brothers were concerned about this. The fate of my father’s wives has ne’er been, weel, good, and I realized the thing they all feared was that she, too, would soon be gone.”

Fiona nodded. “I got that feeling, too. She isnae going anywhere and I think, this time, your father has met his match. Mab isnae the witless, confused fool some think she is.”

“Och, nay. E’en at her worst she could cut straight to the heart of a problem. She is, weel, more at ease with herself, I think. A lot of the little things that made people think unkindly about her are gone. I wondered if it was because she finally had found a companion in ye, someone to talk to besides my father. She didnae really have that before.”

“That may be some of it, but weel, I found out why she could seem so, er, odd and distracted.” Hoping he would not ask how she found out about Mab’s special gift, she told Ewan all about it. “The hiding of it made things verra difficult for her.”

“Ye dinnae think ’tis sorcery or the like?”

“Nay. One cannae ken the Murrays for verra long without seeing such things as nay more than a wee, special gift from God. That clan has many people so gifted. Mab and I are working on how she may use it yet nay get people all afrightened.”

Ewan nodded and smiled at Ciaran when the boy skipped over and wriggled himself into Fiona’s seat, nearly sitting on her lap. “Are ye enjoying the feast, Ciaran?”

“Aye,” the boy replied even as he stuffed his mouth with a small cake. “Grandsire has given me a grandmama.”

“That he has.”

Ciaran looked at Fiona. “Do ye have one?”

“Nay, and I fear I willnae be giving ye either a grandsire or a grandmama. I just have brothers. Ye now have a few more uncles. I suspicion ye will meet them soon.”

“Will they like me?”

“Immediately.” She kissed his forehead and he giggled.

“Will they like my father?”

“Of course.”

“Immediately?”

“Mayhap, but I suspect they willnae let him ken it for a wee while. He wed me without their permission and all. They will have to scowl at him a wee bit ere all is settled. Tis a monly thing to do.” She laughed when Ciaran scowled. “Verra weel done.”

“A verra monly scowl, son,” Ewan said, but he gave Fiona a mock look of severity.
“I think I must keep a close watch upon what ye are teaching the boy.”

“I am being taught a lot of things,” Ciaran said.

“That is what I am afraid of,” murmured Ewan and grinned when Fiona frowned at him even as her eyes glittered with laughter. When Ciaran skipped back to the other boys, he grew serious, however. “Do ye think there will be trouble with your brothers?”

“Ah, weel, nothing verra bad. I was allowed the choice of a husband. I chose. Tis just that, e’en though Connor may understand why it was done, he will be irritated that ye didnae tell him where I was for so long.”

“Irritated, eh?”

“Aye, irritated. Nothing to worry about.” She frowned as she realized that everyone in the great hall had grown very quiet. “What is it?”

“I suspect they are all thinking what I am thinking.”

“And what is that?”

“That irritation shouldnae look quite that alarming.”

Fiona realized everyone, including Ewan, was looking toward the doorway to the hall, and she tensed. She glanced at Sigimor first, and his wide grin only made her feel even more uneasy. Slowly, she turned to look in the direction everyone else was. Three of her brothers stood in the doorway, several tense MacFingals around them.
Irritated
was definitely the wrong word to describe the look upon Connor’s face as he fixed his stare upon her and Ewan. She wondered which one of them Connor was imagining cutting into tiny, bloodied pieces.

“Would ye say that was an irritated look?” Ewan asked quietly.

“I would say murderous, bloodthirsty e’en. I just wish I kenned which one of us he is thinking of slaughtering.”

“Fiona!”

“Me first, I guess,” Fiona said as she sank down in her chair a little as Connor, Diarmot, and Antony strode toward the table, Gillyanne and Ilsa hurrying along behind them.

Ewan stood up as Fiona’s family approached. Despite the dark look of fury upon her brother Connor’s face, Ewan felt something ease inside of him, a doubt abruptly fading away. Connor MacEnroy was big, blond, and scarred. This was a hard man, a man who had known a fight to survive and many battles. This was a man he could understand, one he easily recognized, for in many ways, they were alike.

He had to fight the urge to tell the glowering man to wait a minute because he needed to talk to Fiona now. All his concerns about his scars, about his serious humors, were gone. Ewan knew, without any further doubt, that such things truly did not matter to Fiona. In truth, she probably was more at ease with such things than any other woman he could name. She had been raised amongst such men.

As calmly as possible, considering he faced a man who reeked of the urge to beat him senseless, Ewan performed the introductions then offered seats to Fiona’s family. “We are celebrating my father’s marriage,” he said as he retook his seat and stared across the table at Connor.

“Speaking of marriage…” Connor began.

“Tis so nice to see ye,” Fiona said, and met Connor’s glare with a sweet smile. “I was afeared it would be months yet ere ye could come here.”

“Lass, that game willnae work. I mean to speak with your husband. Then I mean to have a wee talk with ye about witless lasses who ride away on a contrary horse whilst a madmon is hunting them round every corner.”

“Ye cannae lecture me now, Connor. I am a married woman. Only Ewan can lecture me.”

“Ye arenae a married woman until I say so.”

Fiona blinked at that remark, which she considered rather foolish. She then looked at Gilly, who was staring at Ewan. Even as she considered asking Gilly what she saw, the woman turned and grinned at her. The wink her brother’s wife gave her made Fiona’s heart soar.

“Now, ye sit there and hush,” Connor ordered, ignoring the severe frowns his wife and Ilsa gave him, “whilst this fool and I have a talk.”

Fiona was tempted to argue with him, but Ewan caught her hand in his and gave it a light squeeze. For now, she would leave it all in his hands. She had caused her brother a lot of worry with her rash actions and had not let him know she was safe for far too long. He had a right to his anger, but she would not let him pummel Ewan with it for too long.

“I read your letter and may concede that ye are a good choice for my sister,” Connor said, keeping his gaze fixed steadily on Ewan.

“I thank ye,” Ewan murmured. “It was impossible to get word to ye any sooner than I did.”

“So ye explained, yet we had no trouble as we rode here.”

“Matters have changed somewhat since I wrote to ye. The worst of our enemies is now dead, and his clan has already made a small gesture of peace. The new laird of the Grays is as wearied of the feud as we are. They were the ones who would have made any
journey from here to Deilcladach or back verra treacherous.”

“Since my sister was your hostage, was here without any kinsmen to approve your marriage or protect her from being forced into one, I could end this.”

Ice flowed through Ewan’s veins, but before he could speak out, a small voice from his side said, “Ye willnae take my mother away.”

Ewan looked down to see Ciaran giving Connor a very manly scowl and almost smiled despite the fear Connor’s words had bred in his heart. “Nay, Ciaran, he willnae.”

“That is yet to be decided.” Connor looked at Ciaran. “Since I ken this child cannae be Fiona’s, may I ask just why he claims her as his mother?”

“Because he is my son and she is my wife.”

“Aye,” said Ciaran, “and she is going to stay here or I will have to get verra mean.”

“Hush, Ciaran,” said Fiona as she tugged the boy to her side. “Twill be all right. Just let the men speak, and if they say any stupid monly things, we can set them aright, later.”

“How kind of ye, Fiona,” murmured Connor.

“I am but being patient,” she said, but did not hide her irritation in the look she gave Connor. “I am a married woman and a mother and ’tis important to learn patience. I find ’tis oftimes verra useful when dealing with men, as weel.” A glint of laughter flickered through her brother’s eyes, but she was not ready to relax yet.

“Patience? I didnae ken ye e’en had that word in your vocabulary.” Connor looked back at Ewan. “All of this has not pleased me at all. I dinnae ken ye and your clan, but what little I was able to find out doesnae make me feel any better about this marriage. Tales of murder and sorcery, the fact that ye have been at war with near every clan within two days’ ride, and that ye are irritating Camerons for all ye call yourself MacFingals.”

“I resent that slur,” Sigimor said amiably.

Connor ignored Sigimor, although his lips twitched slightly. “She was a rich prize and I but wonder if it was stolen or given.”

“A bit of both,” Ewan said bluntly.

“A bit of force added to all the other problems with this marriage is enough for me to get it set aside.”

“I wouldnae suggest ye trying.”

“Enough,” snapped Fiona. “This is a wedding feast. Sir Fingal has just married Mab.”

“From what I have heard, Sir Fingal getting married is a fairly common occurence,” murmured Connor.

Fiona ignored that. “I willnae have all this monly posturing ruining the celebration.” She was pleased to see both Ilsa and Gillyanne nod. “My marriage to Ewan wasnae forced.” When Ewan started to say something, she clapped her hand over his mouth. “It wasnae. There will be no more talk of setting it aside. Ye may be able to do such a thing, but I willnae stand for it.”

“Nay?”

“Nay. He is my husband, I love him, and we are going to have a child.” She felt Ewan’s body jerk beneath her hand. “I believe that settles that. So let us have a nice visit, get to ken each other, and—” She screeched when Ewan suddenly rose up out of his seat, picked her up in his arms, and started for the doors. “Ewan,” she began to protest, blushing beneath the grins and shouts directed their way.

“Hush,” he ordered in a hoarse voice. “Just hush for a moment.”

Since her brothers were not chasing him down, swords drawn, Fiona decided to hush. A quick glance over her shoulder as they left the hall revealed her brothers all grinning, and Fiona grew suspicious. She wondered if Connor had been trying to press Ewan into declaring himself. If so, he had failed, for she was the one who had spoken out, telling Connor things he already knew. She had made her feelings for Ewan very clear in the letter she had written him. Then she looked at her husband’s taut expression and wondered if Connor had really failed. He had certainly seen a reaction from Ewan. Fiona remained silent, wondering if she would soon discover why this particular reaction had so obviously delighted Connor.

“Verra weel done,” said Sigimor, grinning at Connor.

“Thank ye,” Connor said as he began to help himself to some of the food. “I had hoped for some words from the fool, but this was good.”

“My son is besotted with the lass,” said Sir Fingal.

“It would appear so,” agreed Connor, “but ye must forgive a brother, who has been more a father to her than a sibling, for wishing to see that she is happy. From what she said in her letter to me, he wasnae completely successful at that.” He winked at Gillyanne. “Sometimes a mon has to have his back against the wall ere he begins to see sense.”

“Does that mean ye willnae try to take my mother away?” asked Ciaran as he climbed up into Fiona’s seat.

“Nay,” replied Connor. “I believe your father would fight that verra fiercely.”

“Aye. Me, too. So, ye are my uncles?”

“Aye, although it appears that ye already have a lot.”

“One cannae e’er have enough family.”

“Truer words were ne’er spoken, Ciaran,” Fingal said, but then he scowled at the MacEnroys. “I suspicion ye will be wanting to stay here for a wee while too.”

“At least until I have a chance to see my sister,” said Connor, then he grinned as he lifted his tankard of ale in a small toast. “I believe it may be a while ere that happens. The way that fool looked as he carried her out of here tells me they will be sorting themselves out for a while.”

“Tis about time,” said Mab, and blushed when everyone laughed.

Fiona found herself naked and sprawled on Ewan’s bed before she could think of one word to say. She was quickly diverted from any attempt at conversation when he swiftly removed his clothes and joined her on the bed. His lovemaking was almost frantic, and she was soon lost to the passion he roused within her. He drove her into incoherency with his hands and his mouth, leaving no part of her untouched or unkissed. She felt cherished despite the ferocity that seemed to tremble through his long frame. They reached the heights as one, their cries blending in a harmony she found incredibly sweet.

Ewan nuzzled Fiona’s breast as he sought to recover from the madness that had seized him. The moment she had said she loved him, announced it to everyone gathered in the great hall, his whole body had screamed out with the need to make love to her. She was his, all his, and she carried his child. He placed a trembling hand over her womb.

“Ye are certain?” he asked.

“Aye,” she replied, combing her fingers through his hair and praying that the news of the child was not the only reason he had acted as he had. “I have kenned it for a while, but I wished to be certain it was set firmly in my womb. Mab feels it is. Ye are pleased?”

“Jesu, of course I am, but I am also afraid.” He lightly ran his hand over her hips. “Ye are so small.”

“Connor says I look exactly like my mother and she bore six healthy bairns with nay trouble at all. Mab feels I will have no trouble, either.”

“I want the bairn, but I want ye more.”

“Do ye, Ewan?”

He looked at her, raising himself up on one elbow and shifting slightly so that he rested more to her side. “Aye, lass.” He kissed her, and whispered, “Say it again.”

“I love ye.”

Ewan pressed his forehead against hers and closed his eyes against the strength of the emotion tearing through him. “I have long hoped that ye might. Someday. If I tried hard to woo ye and make ye happy.”

“Ye make me happy.”

“Nay completely, Fiona.” He turned entirely on his side and pulled her into his arms. “I could see that. My brothers could see it. I tried verra hard to keep ye at a distance. I was a coward, afraid of feeling more than passion for ye. I had tried that once, and I didnae want to feel that pain of failing again.”

“I am nay like Helena,” she snapped.

He grinned as he kissed the top of her head. “Nay, ye arenae, but forgive a foolish mon for his fears. Nay, I kenned ye were naught like her almost from the beginning. But then, that was some of the trouble.”

“How could that be?”

“Because I am an idiot.” He chuckled when she laughed softly, her warm breath caressing his chest. “I kenned that I wanted ye more than I e’er wanted her. I also, verra quickly, realized that ye could hurt me far more than she e’er could or did,” he added in a soft voice.

“I wouldnae hurt ye, Ewan. Nay apurpose.” She hugged him and kissed his chest.

“I ken it. That, too, came to me weeks ago. Ah, and then I began to plan ways to woo ye, to win your heart.”

“Ye have held that in your hands almost from the beginning.”

“But I couldnae be sure. I am a dark, scarred mon.”

“I think ye are beautiful.”

“Aye, weel, we can discuss your poor eyesight later.” He loved the sound of her laughter, he decided. “Ye are beautiful, m’love. In face and heart. I just didnae see how ye could want me. I am always a wee bit astonished when ye turn to such sweet heat in my arms. Then, slowly, I began to believe that ye did care for me a wee bit, that, if God was merciful, I might be able to win your love. I needed it, ye see, for ye had won mine.” He felt a dampness on his chest, took her chin in his hand, and turned her face up to his. “That makes ye weep.”

Fiona kissed him, wrapped her arms around his neck, and pressed her face against his throat. “From happiness. From relief. From utter, blind joy. When did ye ken that ye loved me?”

“When Menzies took ye. I might nay have called it love, I cannae recall, but I did ken that I would have naught, would be without a future, if I lost ye. Then I plotted ways to woo ye. Then Ciaran arrived, and I feared I would lose ye. Then, when ye came to my rescue, I saw that ye might care for me more than I had realized and I began the struggle to rouse my courage and tell ye how I felt. I was going to tell ye tonight, after the feast.” He stroked her cheek when she lifted her head to stare at him.

“I was planning to tell ye that I love ye tonight, as weel. And then, tell ye about the bairn.”

“Why didnae ye tell me when ye first kenned ye were carrying the bairn? Was it truly just to be certain?”

“Aye, and nay. I wanted to be sure, but I also wanted time to try and make ye love me ere ye kenned there was a child. If ye kenned about the child ere I kenned how ye felt, weel, I feared I would drive myself mad trying to judge your every word and deed as to whether it meant ye cared for just me or for the woman who carried your bairn.” She kissed his chin and whispered, “Ye havenae actually said the words, Ewan.”

“I love ye,” he said against her mouth, then kissed her with all the passionate emotion he was feeling. “Ye are my heart, my future. I ken I am nay good with sweet words…” He stuttered to a halt when she brushed her lips over his to silence him.

“I dinnae need sweet words. I dinnae need flatteries, poetry, song, or gifts. I just need ye to tell me every now and again that ye love me.”

“That willnae be so verra hard to do, nay if ye do the same. Tis odd, but I thought of my feelings as a weakness, and I cannae believe that anymore. Kenning that ye love me makes me feel strong, whole in some odd way.”

“As if a part of ye is finally where it belongs,” she said. “The moment I saw ye, I kenned something special about ye. It wasnae long ere I realized ye were the one I had been waiting for. After ye kissed me in the herb hut, I kenned ye were my mate and I was determined to make ye see it, too.” She sighed rather dramatically. “I hadnae realized it would take ye so long to understand.”