Highland Wolf (23 page)

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Authors: Hannah Howell

BOOK: Highland Wolf
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“I was,” James said as he crouched down so that he could look her in the eye. “As I think ye already ken, I was falsely accused of her death and then branded an outlaw. I had to flee for my life. For three years I have been trying to find a way to clean the stain from my good name, find the real murderer, and regain all that was once mine.”

“Dunncraig?”

“Aye, Margaret Anne. Dunncraig and ye. Ne’er think elsewise. I ne’er forgot my wee lass and always intended to come back for ye. That is why I first came to Dunncraig. It was but my good fortune that I met Annora here. Will ye allow me to marry her?”

Annora was moved by the understanding James showed for a little girl’s fears. Meggie had to be uncertain of what her place would be now. By asking her permission for her newfound father to marry the nursemaid she had depended on for three years, he was making her a full part of that decision. Annora prayed the child did not balk and said she approved. Any other answer could cause them a lot of trouble with the child, for Annora felt certain James would not change his mind; he would just become determined to change Meggie’s. What he did not know was that little Meggie could match him in stubbornness.

“And we will be a family?” Meggie asked.

“Aye, lass, we will be a family,” said James and he briefly glanced toward Tormand. “A verra large family.”

“I would like to be a family again.”

“So ye approve of my plan to marry Annora?”

Meggie grinned and hugged him. “That will certainly make sure she stays at Dunncraig, aye?”

“Aye, it certainly will.” James stood up and began to say, “And once Annora and I are married she must be called—”

Annora clapped her hand over his mouth and smiled at Meggie. “Whate’er Meggie wishes to call me. I leave that decision up to ye, Meggie-love.”

“Thank ye. I will give it a lot of thought.” Meggie did not wait to speak to James again but skipped away toward her uncle.

“Why did ye stop me from saying that she must call ye her mother when we marry?” James asked. “Ye will be her mother and so she ought to call ye such.”

“Only in the eyes of the law. Meggie kens that her mother was Mary and, aye, she was a verra poor mother, but that doesnae matter. I dinnae want Meggie ordered to call me her mother. I want her to choose to call me that.”

James sighed and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “As ye wish. Shall we make this announcement? Everyone already kens that we are to be married as soon as possible, but this is something they expect a proper announcement for.”

“A proper announcement and then a lot of ale,” murmured Annora as they walked to the head table.

“’Tis tradition.”

The hall went silent when James rapped his goblet down on the table several times. Annora stood by his side holding his hand as he told all the people gathered there that he had asked Annora MacKay to be his wife and she had said yes. As soon as the cheering for that had eased, he also told them that the marriage would happen as soon as possible and there would be a very grand wedding feast.

“My, I hadnae expected the news to be greeted with quite that much enthusiasm,” Annora said as she sat down next to James.

“They love ye, lass, as I do.” James gave her a quick kiss. “They ken that ye belong here and are pleased that their laird had the good sense to see that, too.”

Annora blushed and looked around at the people gathered in the great hall. She had thought that because of the way Donnell had kept her so apart from everyone, the people of Dunncraig did not know or care for her. Most of this cheer was probably for the fact that James was hale and hearty and Dunncraig was back under his care, but she knew that many of the people were honestly happy for her as well. With tears in her eyes, she looked at James when he brushed a kiss over her cheek.

“Ye are home now, lass,” he said softly. “Ne’er forget that.”

And that, she realized, was the source of the joy she felt. At long last she had found a home.

Epilogue

One year later

“Isnae she done yet?”

James looked down at his daughter and, despite his growing fear for Annora and the child she was struggling to bring into the world, he almost smiled. Meggie had her hands on her hips and was scowling up at him through a tangle of golden curls. She seemed to think Annora would just retreat to her bedchamber with a few women and shortly thereafter call them in to see Meggie’s new brother or sister. His daughter did not understand the many dangers of childbirth and he had no intention of enlightening her just yet. He prayed that Annora would not be doing so, either, that she would emerge from this trial hale and holding a fine, healthy child.

He thought back to the day Meggie was born and did not recall feeling so afraid for Mary or the child she carried. Mary had carried on loudly and continuously, repeatedly declaring for all to hear that he was a cruel man for making her suffer so much pain and torment. James supposed that the noise and complaints ringing through the halls of Dunncraig had sounded so strong and healthy it had been difficult to become concerned for Mary’s health. What fears he had begun the day with had been quickly stomped down by all of Mary’s bellowing.

Annora had remained unsettlingly quiet and James did find that frightening. He had started to move toward the door of the great hall so that he could rush up the stairs and demand to see Annora when someone grabbed him by the arm and held him back. He looked at his brother Tormand only to catch the man grinning at him, an expression of amusement in his mismatched eyes. It was an expression that James thought needed to be pounded right into the mud.

“What do ye want?” he demanded of his brother. “And cease that cursed grinning.”

“I just wanted to stop ye before ye charged up those stairs, burst into your bedchamber, and scared poor Annora half to death,” Tormand said. “Ye had that look.”

“What look are ye talking about?”

“The look of a crazed mon who thinks his wife is being tortured and he must get to her to make sure that all the dangers of childbed stay far, far away. Doesnae work, brother. Ne’er has. Ne’er will. Only adds to the fears the poor lass already has.”

Tormand’s voice had grown very soft and James took a quick glance toward Meggie only to find her watching him very closely. “Aye, ye are right,” he said and strode over to one of the big windows that lined one wall of the great hall and looked out toward the gates. “We have heard our kinswomen say the same thing often enough that I should have recalled the advice ere now.”

“Is it true that MacKay wanted to make these windows of stained glass like they have in the kirk?” asked Tormand. “Who did the fool think he was?”

“A laird who could become a king if he was clever enough.” James thought of the large stained glass panels that had arrived at Dunncraig a few months after MacKay had died. The idiot had spent too many years in France seeing all the excesses of the nobility o’er there and he wanted to recreate something similar here. A verra vain mon.”

Looking at Tormand’s far too innocent expression, James inwardly cursed. It was easy to guess the game his brother played, the one where someone distracts the poor fretting husband from where his wife is and what is happening to her. What really annoyed James was that it had worked for a little while. Even worse, he suspected
Tormand could play the game again and it would work again. James reluctantly admitted to himself that he was eager to be distracted, but that did not mean he had to like being manipulated.

“I think the moment MacKay set his arse in the laird’s chair his mind began to rot,” James said. “Aye, he wanted stained glass windows. I got some huge panes of it delivered here nay so long ago. All paid for so there is nay sending them back to their maker. I cannae put the cursed things up in my windows, for they would block all view of the bailey from here. They would also cut out what little sunlight we get into this room. But the biggest reason I willnae be using them is because of what is depicted in the panels of the windows.”

“Ah, ’tis all naked women frolicking, is it? Scenes of rampant debauchery.”

“Weel, aye, but what makes them so appalling is that the mon in the center of all the lewdness shown in the picture is MacKay, Eagan seated at his right. Both naked. Both being weel attended by buxom women. And, if I may say so, both with endowments worthy of some mythic bull.”

Tormand laughed so hard he slumped against the wall to keep from falling down. “Ye jest.”

“Sad to say, nay, I dinnae.”

“If this is what they have in France, mayhap I have been remiss in nay visiting our kinsmen o’er there.”

“I doubt they have such nonsense in France.”

“Ye must tell me where ye have put them. I need to look at such wonders.”

“Annora saw them and laughed so hard I feared she would drop the bairn right there and then.”

“They are that amusing?”

“’Tis all good work, beautiful colors and all, but ’tis the way MacKay arid Egan are drawn that makes what might have been a beautifully arousing painting into little more than some grand, expensive jest. I have a few men coming in later in the summer to look at them and see if there is any way to, weel, fix them, clean them up a wee bit, shall we say? Several pieces are verra good despite the lechery depicted, and because they were to be but one part of a large scene, the king and his jester with their endowments arenae there.”

“I shall have to take a look at them, I think. I may e’en buy one from ye if ’tis as good as ye say it is.”

“Ye want to put windows in your home that depict rampant debauchery?”

There is naught that says the piece must be part of a window. It just needs light shining through it to see the best of the colors, aye? So that might be arranged in some other way and thus the panels nay blessed with MacKay’s and Egan’s godlike personages could be treated as, weel, just a picture done in glass.”

James thought about that for a moment and slowly nodded. He could think of one or two of the pieces that were beautiful, the lechery that was depicted only a small part of what intrigued one about them. He was certainly not going to tell Tormand that, once the laughter had passed, he and Annora had studied some of the panels and become very aroused. They had shut and barred the storeroom door and made love right there on the floor.

There was even one panel in particular he would not mind keeping just as it was,
for the woman featured the most clearly looked very much like Annora, much to her horrified surprise. James suspected that, despite his cruelty to his cousin, MacKay had recognized her beauty. He just thanked God that MacKay had never let that beauty stir his lust to the height where he had tried to take her. The man had obviously had a few lustful thoughts about her, however, as that sultry woman depicted in the stained glass panel revealed. The fact that a man who looked a lot like him in his Rolf guise was in another one of the pictures was something he did not really care to think about, although Annora had found it intriguing once she had gotten past the jealousy stirred by seeing him shown with other women. And James had no intention of sharing some of the exquisitely drawn books showing various ways to make love or the tapestry hanging in the laird’s chamber that also showed scenes of debauchery.

“MacKay didnae like the usual religious scenes or moral allegories or e’en hunting scenes depicted in most art,” he said, smiling faintly. “S’truth, I hadnae realized more, shall we say, earthy matters were e’en shown in stained glass or stitchery.”

“If the one doing the work is skilled enough, he or e’en she can make a picture of whate’er is wanted,” Tormand said. “’Tis just that MacKay seemed to want what would make everyone else turn their gazes away. I have seen things that show the more earthy things as weel, although it appears MacKay was planning on making Dunncraig Keep some bastion of lewd works.” Tormand suddenly grabbed hold of James’ arm again. “Big Marta has arrived.”

Since Big Marta was one of the women tending the birth of his child, James tensed and realized Tormand had grabbed his arm to steady him. Mayhap even to keep him from doing something foolish. James stood with his hands clasped tightly behind his back in an effort to look calm. He glanced down when a weight suddenly settled against his leg and he found Meg leaning against him. His daughter was obviously not completely ignorant of the fact that there was an ever-present danger hanging over the birthing bed. He unclasped his hands and wrapped his arm around her short, thin body as best he could.

“Weel, laddie,” said Big Marta as she stopped right in front of him obviously savoring the fact that everyone gathered in the great hall had gone silent upon her entrance and waited for her to speak, “ye got yourself a good little breeder there. E’en her pains werenae all that bad, the worst coming in only the last hour or so.”

Although he felt almost weak-kneed his relief was so great, James managed to sound calm as he asked, “Annora and the child are weel, then?”

“Aye, that they are. Ye have a fine, big son,” Big Marta announced and grinned around at everyone when they cheered. “And, aye, your lady is fine, naught but tired from a hard day of work.”

Big Marta had barely finished speaking when James began to run for the stairs leading up to the bedchambers. It took him a moment to realize that there was a weight on his left leg making his movements awkward and the laughter echoing in the great hall was far too boisterous to be no more than a reaction to an anxious new father racing to see his wife and new son. James stopped and looked down into Meggie’s laughing brown eyes. She was clinging to his leg with her arms and legs, hanging on tightly as he ran. Laughing, he picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder, then began running again. Tormand was right at his heels, for he had been the one chosen to look at the new heir to Dunncraig and then take word back down to the great hall and the various cousins waiting there.

Annora’s eyed widened with surprise as James burst into the bedchamber, a grinning Tormand right behind him, and a giggling Meggie draped over his broad shoulder. Once her surprise eased, however, she grinned back at them as they all gathered around the bed where she lay with her new son in her arms. She had been terrified of giving birth, recalling far too many bad ones and ones ending in the woman’s death, but it had all been rather easy.

Although she knew she was very fortunate, she also knew that she had James’ foster family to thank for some of that ease. Knowing they might not be able to be at Dunncraig for the birth, James’ tiny, sweet mother, Bethia, and several of his cousins had all come to visit several months ago. The instructions they had given Big Marta, Annora, and several other women had proven their worth. Annora knew in her heart that many babies and mothers at Dunncraig would be saved in the future because of the knowledge those women had shared.

“Why isnae he all red and wrinkly like Morag’s wee sister, Mama?”

Hearing the word
mama
on Meggie’s lips nearly caused Annora to burst into tears. She had been waiting almost a year to hear it, waiting to know for certain that Meggie had accepted her as her mother. Glancing at James, she saw the faint sheen in his eyes, knew he had heard that final, full acceptance of her as well, and was feeling nearly as emotional as she was. There was a glint of uncertainty in Meggie’s big eyes and Annora knew she had to hide her tears and save them for later.

She smiled at Meggie. “He is a big lad, Meggie-love. I think that makes a difference. Morag’s sister was a verra wee lass.” One who would have certainly died if the Murray women had not arrived at that precise time and quickly offered their skills to help Morag’s mother keep her child alive.

“What is my brother’s name? Mungo?” asked Meggie as she peeked under and around the baby’s swaddling.

“Nay, we arenae naming our son after a cat,” said James, lightly swatting Tormand when the younger man laughed.

“It isnae a cat’s name,” protested Annora. “It was the name of my childhood friend.”

Then ye shouldnae have given it to a cat. I offer ye the choice of Niocal and Quinton.”

He was being a little arrogant about the naming of their child, but Annora had already decided not to argue with him over the name. “Quinton, then. Quinton Murray Drummond.”

“Ah, now, that is a fine name and shall please the elders,” said Tormand as he grasped Meggie by the hand. “Come, my wee beauty, and help me tell the cousins the news.”

Meggie tugged free of his hold and dashed over to Annora’s side of the bed to give her a quick hug and a kiss. Annora lovingly returned it. A moment later she was alone with James. She watched as he sat on the bed beside her. He kissed her in a way that made her toes curl with pleasure despite the fact that her body still ached from giving birth. Then he held out his hands for Quinton and she did not hesitate to put their child in his arms.

She waited patiently as he unwrapped the baby, for she had done the same right after Big Marta had put the baby in her arms. Right along with James, she silently
counted each little finger and toe all over again. By the time he reswaddled their child and looked at her, she knew her eyes were as wet with tears as his were. He blinked his away as he settled himself on the bed beside her, wrapping his arm around her, and holding her close by his side, little Quinton still snuggled safely in the crook of his other arm.

“Ye have done me proud, Annora-mine,” he said quietly and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

Annora rested her head against his shoulder, her gaze fixed upon their sleeping child. “Quinton is a miracle we had an equal part in making.”

“But ye did most of the work.”

“Weel, I willnae argue that.”

“And ye arenae in too much pain?”

“Nay. I but ache and am verra tired.”

“I began to fear that something was wrong, for I didnae hear ye make any sound.”

“Oh, I made plenty of noise, but nay the screaming that can carry to where the father waits.” She reached across James’ broad chest to stroke her child’s soft cheek. “He was worth every pain, every grunt and groan, and all the offenses to my modesty.”

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