Plead Forgiveness: Betrayed Twice (Loyalty Series) (10 page)

The Macleod Laird
and his wife rode at a neck-breaking pace through the wilderness that
surrounded Doran Castle. While trying to keep pace with the reckless woman he
married, Gavin realized that she possessed some interesting qualities. He knew
that many of her habits reflected her emotions.

When plagued with
grief or fear, she rode as if the devil himself chased her. If she tucked her
hair behind her ear or bit her bottom lip, she felt nervous. Her playfulness
mirrored her joy. When confident and comfortable in her surroundings, she
challenged him to a race. Another trait she displayed when in high spirits is
to talk non-stop. Gavin especially loved this one; because it allowed him to
see that her beauty ran clear down to her soul.

His little wife is
quite opinionated as well, and not in the least bit concerned with voicing her
beliefs or concerns. Her gaze never wavered, as did other women and most men,
even when they debated a topic. Gavin believed that people express their
strength and honesty through their eyes. People who lowered their gaze display
only weakness and dishonesty.

Being a confident,
intelligent woman, she never capitulated without a fight. If he happened to
prove her wrong, she graciously conceded defeat, something most people of
nobility rarely did. He following her lead when she proved him wrong and he
learned that surrendering a point is much easier than he assumed.

Their debates usually
centered on women’s clothing, horses, proper nutrition for warriors, weapons,
castle improvements, village improvements, in addition to philosophy and
history. Gavin had never spent so much time talking and debating with a woman,
but he found both highly enjoyable with Ella.

Ella, too, felt
exultant with the turn in their relationship, even though she loathed admitting
it. Her husband made her laugh just as easily as he made her think. The mental
challenge that surrounded their conversations intrigued her. However, it is the
way he looks at her, which holds her breathless and completely spellbound.

She could feel the
sexual magnetism that made him so confident, and with every seductive gaze, her
heart turned in response. Whether it is his tender and patient manner or the
maddening hint of arrogance he often used to tease her, she knew her heart
would soon belong to him.

With these
thoughts clouding her mind, Ella almost forgot the new mare she rode, one of
the many Uncle James willed to her. She returned her attention to Gavin, who
allowed her a reprieve from their normal banter.

When they had set
off this morning, after her conversation with the cooks, Ella’s mood had been
anything but jovial. Even though she did not fully confessed her sin from eight
years ago, the memory left her despondent..

Acute and
perceptive, Gavin gave her the space she needed. When she finally slowed the
sable mare to a walk, he complied by doing the same, and then patiently waited
for her to break the silence.

“Do you believe boldness
breeds strength?”

Her innocent
question sent bolts of fire to Gavin’s loins, as images of breeding ignited his
imagination. The perfection of her face and form left him hard with desire day
in and day out, yet not so much as a kiss passed between them since they wed.
Now, she talks of breeding.
 Lord, does she have any idea the effect she
has on me.

At night Gavin
dreamed of her naked in his bed, with arms stretched out, welcoming him to her
body. He would caress the delicate flare of her slender hips, the mercilessly
tight and narrow waist, and then lower to the silken thighs firm from years of
wild rides on horseback. Perspiring and randy as a goat, he would awaken with
intense need for the female in the next chamber. Swimming in the frigid loch at
dawn became a daily ritual. After cooling his ardor in the frigid water, he
would return and often watch her sleep for a moment or an hour.

Trying to clear
his mind and focus on her question, Gavin failed. “Can ye repeat that?”

“Aye, do you think
boldness breeds strength? I am toying with the idea of breeding this fine,
spirited mare with Apollo.”

She toys with much
more than that, he thought. Thinking on her question, he responded dryly, “Aye,
‘tis a fine idea.”

Hearing his
impassive tone, a wave of guilt washed over her. His patience wears thin
because their marriage is without intimacy. Unable to find words, she meekly
followed him to a small nearby loch.

With the saddles
removed and the horses brushed down, Ella moved to sit under a tree while he
stripped down for a swim. With nary a cloud in sight to hinder the summer sun,
the overly warm day only increased her overheated state.

Her husband’s
unclad body seemed sculpted like a Greek God, she thought, as she watched him
with wide eyes. His muscular form radiated strength, power and supreme
athleticism. Her gaze lingered on the well-developed chest sprinkled with dark
hair, then drifted lower to the chiseled perfection of his stomach,
unbelievably lean and without a trace of fat. As he removed the last article of
his clothing, he turned and gave her and enticing view of his the molten bronze
skin of his muscular back, as well as his buttocks that looked rock hard.

He felt rock hard
and all due to his wife’s brazen perusal of his body. Did the little innocent
wench think him made of stone, to look upon him so boldly without even
blinking? 
Dear God, did she just lick her lips
? Without another
thought, he dove into the frigid water.

When he broke the
water’s surface, he glanced at the all-too enticing female under the weeping
willow tree. Disappointment crossed her features, as if he had taken away her
favorite toy. As the throbbing between his legs lessened, he suddenly found
himself elated by the desire he saw in his bride.

His heartbeat
quickened when he saw her remove her boots and roll her breeches up to her
knees. The sight of her slender legs made him instantly hard again, thinking
how they would feel wrapped around his waist.

The thin white
tunic that Eva had made for her, combined with the sun’s helpful rays, allowed
him to see her tight fitting chemise. He had asked his sister to make clothes
that Ella could ride in, but with maddening realization, he knew he should have
been more specific.

Tavish returned
from the Mackenzies a fortnight ago with clothing for Ella. Unfortunately, it
did not resemble anything Gavin envisioned when he made the request. His idea
had been for a longer tunic, one that would hide those sleek legs and
incredibly enticing bottom. Instead, Eva had sent short chemises that covered only
half of his wife’s small, perky backside. Without thought, his sister had also
fashioned silk, drawstring petticoats that fit tightly and reached only mid
thigh. Gavin thought it a jest when he rummaged through the garments, yet after
seeing five sets and then reading her note, he realized his mistaken.

Dearest Gavin,

I am thrilled that
you requested new riding apparel for the remarkable woman, who is now your
wife. Since Mother sent Ella’s measurements, they should fit well and be more
comfortable than what she owns presently. I used the finest material for the
undergarments; which are lightweight and double stitched. The material will
cause no irritation to Ella's tender back. The cut of the undergarments will
fit easily under her normal riding attire, and provide some protection for her
more delicate areas as well as security to others.

I became so
engrossed in my task that I also made her some short sleeve tunics, using a new
thin material that I have been experimenting with that appears to be stronger.
The new breeches I fashioned are a combination of wool and leather, which makes
it more durable for riding.

Please tell your
dear wife that I am so excited to meet her and make her a new wardrobe. There
are nae words to express my gratitude for what she did for Gabriel, who
continues to sing her praises. Even though I have yet to meet her, she is
already incased in my heart and will have my undying love for eternity.

Give everyone my
love.

Your Darling Sister,

Eva

Darling is not the
word Gavin used now to describe his sister, mayhap malicious or cruel. His
displeasure only intensified when he saw the delight in Ella’s eyes the day he
handed her the garments.

Returning to the
present, he now endured the pain of a man who had not touched his wife since
their wedding night, but been blessed and cursed with the view of the form
fitting breeches that outlined her slender curves.

His body tensed
when the profile of her body came into view. Her flawlessly curved derriere
teased while it simultaneously beckoned him.

Noticing Gavin’s
intense look, she asked, “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“Like what? I only
reciprocate yer action moments ago,” he stated with a husky, seductive voice.

“I was not staring
at you,” Ella exclaimed as she plopped down on a boulder and danged her feet
into the water. “Well mayhap a little, but that’s only because I have never
seen a . . . a . . . naked man before.”

“At least there is
truth to that admission, and I will make one of my own.”

With the grace of
a predator stalking its prey he moved towards her, then took her small feet
into his hands, and began to rub the arches with his thumbs.

“I stare at ye
because I want ye more than I have ever wanted a woman afore.”

His hands slid up
her calves to her knees as he slowly position his body between her legs. When
his large palms covered her hips, he said in a deep voice, “The verra sight of
ye intoxicates me with the desire to touch, taste and kiss yer delectable body.
I burn to have ye in my arms, to stoke ye as I would a fire, until yer heat
equals my own. I want to be inside ye, until ye surrender into euphoric
ecstasy.”

The smoldering
flame Ella saw in his eyes, coupled with his powerfully sensual words, sent a
heated shiver racing through her body. Her personal battle of restraint was
lost when she felt the warmth of his palms cupping her face, his thumbs
stroking her cheeks. His kiss was an awakening experience that left her
reeling, but clinging for more. He tilted her head to deepen the kiss,
catapulting her to a place beyond logic and reason.

The hunger of his
kiss shattered her serenity. Her willpower to rebuff his tender assault
disappeared. She succumbed to the force of his lips, savoring every moment
until her fervor matched his.

Her hands were
ravenous as they explored his muscular chest and broad shoulders. She suddenly
felt his hands drift down the contours of her body to grip with possessiveness
her bottom. He reeled her in so that his arousal pressed to the core of her
body.

Remembering the
searing pain she felt the eve of their wedding, she pushed him away with
surprising strength. Quickly scrambling to her feet, she raced over to the mare
and vaulted on her back. Eager to be away, she never looked back and did not
see the dejection and overwhelming pain in his eyes.

Gavin’s raging
desire destroyed his normal control. In his haste to claim her, he failed to
recall the pain she endured on their wedding night. Instant regret prevented
him from giving chase.

Emerging from the
loch, he cursed his impatience. He then dressed and saddled his horse. For a
moment, he stared down at the saddle Ella had not bothered with in her mad
flight to keep him at a distance.

At a sedate pace,
he set off for home, reminding himself to send someone for the discarded
saddle.

His thoughts then
focused on Ella and gaining her trust. He desperately wanted to abolish the
pain she burden herself with for the past eight years. He also wanted her in
his bed, but only if willing and eager.

Darkening clouds
had gathered overhead when Ella arrived back at the castle just after the noon
hour. Lady Esme had greeted her, and by the older woman’s anxious expression,
she knew immediately something was amiss.

“Ye must come
quick. Rachel has gone into labor and our midwife has sent word that she canna
leave the Mackenzie holding.”

Rushing over to
her mother-in-law, she grabbed her satchel, then set off at a brisk pace for
Rachel’s cottage.

“When did her
labor pains begin?”

“Last eve,” Lady
Esme stated, trying to keep pace with the healer.

Halting abruptly,
Ella asked, “Why wasn't I informed?”

“Rachel knew ye
were in mourning. She dinna wish to bother ye since we had already sent for the
midwife.”

Ella started
sprinting towards the village, her fear so great that nothing else mattered.
When she entered the tiny cottage, Helena and Boyd were with Rachel and their
faces reflected their own fear for the woman lying on the bed, withering in
pain.

Looking around the
cottage, Ella noted that they carried out her suggestions. Clean linen and
water were by the table. Extra water heated in the stone fireplace and two
leather straps hung from the ceiling over Rachel.

Pulling out the
small bag of herbs previously made specifically for this occasion, she gave it
to Helena and ordered, “Mix this with steaming water, and then give it to
Rachel. It will lessen the pain and help reduce infection.”

Turning to Boyd,
she said, “I know you love your wife, but for now you must leave.” Rachel’s
husband dropped a kiss on his wife’s perspiring head, then left the cottage.

“Shhh, all will be
well Rachel,” Ella crooned. “You know I have been assisting with births for
many years.” She then quickly, but thoroughly washed her hands.

Rachel would have
smiled if not for the labor pain that engulfed her, making her body go rigid
from the gripping contraction in her abdomen.

“You must breathe.
Each time you feel the pain come, focus on breathing,” she stated, then put the
apron Helena had given and then moved to the foot of the bed.

“Now, let me take
a look and see how far along-” Her words stopped when another contraction
assailed the laboring woman, followed by the outpouring of clear liquid from
her womb. 
Dear God, the bairn will be coming much sooner than
anticipated.

“Helena, help me
move her down the bed.”

Once Rachel was in
the right position, Ella examined the position of the babe. In a voice that
concealed her fear, she confirmed, “Rachel, the babe has yet to turn. It cannot
be born without help.”

Rachel replied in
a small, frightened voice, “What do ye mean, needs help?”

Over the past
fortnight, Rachel had accompanied and assisted Ella with tending to the
ailments of the villagers. Although she had taught Rachel much during this
time, she neglected to inform her friend about the problems associated with the
birthing process.

“I must turn the
babe around while he is inside you. It will be painful, but if I don’t do this,
you and the babe will not survive.”

Helena cried out,
“Dear Lord, nae!”

With her confident
gaze fixed on Ella, Rachel said, “I have complete faith in ye. Do what ye must.”

Rachel’s trust
astounded Ella, causing her eyes to flood with unshed tears. She silently vowed
to see that this courageous woman and her child survived, even if she had to
move heaven and hell to do so.

Regaining her
composure, she lifted the sheet and eased her hand inside Rachel’s womb. She
was thankful her hands were so small, allowing her to access the tight, fragile
region of a woman. With practiced and experienced fingers, she checked to make
sure the cord was not around the babe’s neck, while Rachel gritted her teeth.
Her movements were slow and time seemed to stand still as she attempted to
maneuver the babe into the correct position.

While trying to
angle the head downward, Ella felt the gush of warm blood. With every moment
passing, Rachel lost more blood and soon would not have the strength to
continue laboring to bring new life into the world.

Ella’s heart
lurched when she was unable to turn the babe without the cord curling around
the neck. She removed her hand, then tried with her non-dominant one, hoping
for a different result. Tentatively, she tried lowering the head different
ways.

A cry of relief
broke from her lips when blessedly the babe’s head lowered, free from the cord.
Bubbling joy shone in her eyes when she yelled “Push, Rachel! Push hard!”

Time slowed as
Rachel fought for her child’s life.  Rewarded moments later, the top of
the newborn’s head came into view.

“I see the head!
Keeping pushing, Rachel,” she encouraged.

With the
assistance of the leather straps hung over the bed, and Helena kneeling behind
her, Rachel pulled herself into a better position to labor. She let out a
bloodcurdling scream, and then used all her remaining strength to push the babe
from her womb.

Lady Esme
continued to bath her brow, while adding to Ella’s encouraging words. “Keep
pushing, sweetheart. The bairn is coming.”

“You’re doing
well, Rachel. One hard push is all that’s needed,” Ella said.

The laboring
mother wailed one last time as the bairn emerged from her body into Ella’s
waiting hands.

“You have a son, a
very large son, Rachel.”

With haste, Ella
cleaned out the silent infant’s mouth, which in turn let loose a loud bellow of
outrage. To the women inside the cottage and the men on the other side of the
timbered walls, it was music to the ears.

Ella cut the cord,
then handed the babe to Helena to clean and swaddle. Turning back to the new
mother, she delivered the after birth. Blessedly, Rachael swooned shortly
thereafter.

“Lady Esme, please
bring a needle and thread from my satchel.”

“What?”

Ella knew the only
way to save a mother whose flesh severely ripped from delivering a large babe
is to stitch the area closed. Aunt Eleanor had made an extensive study of the
birthing process, which remained unheard of in England and Scotland.

“I don’t have time
to explain, you must trust me. Please, the needle and thread.”

Using small
stitches and a steady hand, she closed the wound, periodically cleaning the
area with hot water to avoid infection. Although fever is inevitable, stitching
the torn flesh reduces infection and lessens the amount of blood loss.

Rachel remained
unconscious during the delicate procedure. After a thorough bath, dressed in a
fresh sleeping gown, she awakened briefly.

Lady Esme pulled
Ella aside to speak with her privately. “What are her chances?”

“Much improved now
that she nae longer bleeds, but the next few hours will be critical.”

“What can I do to
help?”

“The babe will
need a wet nurse, and I will need apple vinegar cider or malt ale.”

“Thirsty are ye?”

Ella gave a
humorless chuckle. “Nae, I will bathe Rachel with it.”

The older woman’s
jaw dropped in stunned disbelief before she stammered, “But we have just bathed
her.”

“The brew lowers
fever when applied to the skin.”

“Is she feverish
then?”

“Nae, but she soon
will be. The birth was difficult, the babe overly large, and she lost more
blood than most. Aye, she will become feverish, but the yeast in the cider and
ale will help, more than cool water alone.”

When Ella saw
doubt lingered on the older woman’s brow, she explained, “After my Aunt Eleanor
delivered a stillborn eight years ago, she remained barren. Refusing to accept
such a fate, she dedicated her life to learning all she could about pregnancy
and the birthing process. She researched medicinal texts written by the
greatest minds to ever live. The monks at the Westshire abbey travelled to
foreign countries to gather research for her. Philip rewarded my aunt’s efforts
by funding these quests. We applied the knowledge she gained. In the last two
years and over a hundred births, we lost less than a handful of women, all who
delivered twins.” Ella paused for a moment then added, “My methods may sound
strange, but they work. Please trust me in this.”

“I should nae have
doubted ye. I’ll leave now to do yer bidding and return with all due haste.”

Sheets of rain
pelted the thatched roof above and lightning illuminated the darken sky, as
Lady Esme rushed out of the cottage. With the winds roaring like an angry
beast, Ella felt a stab of guilt for sending the older woman out on such stormy
night.

The ominous sound
of crackling thunder startled Helena as she tilted a goblet of water to
Rachel’s mouth. Ella opened a window to allow a breeze into the cottage. They
waited patiently and within the hour, Lady Esme burst through the cottage door
with two jugs in her hands and a wet nurse in tow.

Rachel woke long
enough to swallow a small amount of water before succumbing to a sleep once
again. As Ella predicted, fever came with vengeance an hour later. Rachel’s
peaceful sleep became fitful, followed by delirious speech and moments of
uncontrolled thrashing. Ella advised Helena to take the babe and the wet nurse
to her own cottage so they could have a peaceful night’s sleep.

The havoc beyond
the walls of the cottage did nothing to alleviate the fear in Ella’s heart as
she bathed Rachel’s burning body with vinegar and ale. Although her fever broke
soon after, it returned continuously over the next few hours.

Gavin arrived well
after midnight, and upon Ella’s request, escorted his mother to the castle for much
needed sleep.

By mid afternoon
the following day, Rachel’s fever broke yet again, but this time it did not
return. Regardless of the new mother’s improving health, Ella adamantly denied
anyone entrance into the cottage, including the women who assisted with the
birth and Boyd, Rachel’s husband.

Boyd stoically
remained outside the cottage, irate as ever.

“I want to see my
wife!” he said for the fifth time since dawn.

“Nae, you will
only endanger her further.”

“When?”

“Soon.”

“Ye said that an
hour ago.”

“Aye, I did.”

“I canna take this
waiting.”

“The wait will
soon be over, my friend. She improves each hour, and your son is quite hearty.
For now, I implore you to bathe, eat, and sleep. Your wife will have great need
of you in the days ahead. I will send for you when I am confident that Rachel’s
fever will not return.” When his face lit up, Ella quickly said, “But, it will
be a very short visit and you must keep your distance.”

With an angry
scowl, Rachel said, “I want to see my son!”

Ella sighed as she
repeated, “Nae.”

“Why will ye nae
let me see my son?”

Ella sat down on
the stool and started to brush Rachel’s freshly washed hair as she explained,
“You know why. If the fever returns, your son would be at risk. After all the
work you did to bring him into this world, it would be wise to practice a bit
of patience. Also, you are weaker than a newborn kitten. Mayhap tomorrow. ”

The new mother
folded her arms across her chest, glared over her shoulder at Ella, and then
spat, “And ye are naught but a vicious harpy.”

Bristling
indignation replaced Rachael’s normal sweet disposition, but it did not dampen
Ella’s high spirits. She understood that Rachael longed for her child,
completely oblivious to the fragile state of her own body. Because she valued
Rachael’s life, Ella remained resolute in her decision.

By the break of
dawn the next day, as the red and orange glow of the horizon began to crawl
into the cloudless sky, Ella stood just outside the cottage staring down at
Boyd. He sat on a bench next to the front door, with his son cradled in his
arms, and a huge smile on his face.

“Is she well . . .
may we see her?

Ella stroked the
bairn’s head and said, “Aye, Boyd, your wife will be just fine, or will be once
she sees you and the bairn. You may go in now.”

“Lady Ella, I
canna thank ye enough for what ye have done for me and my family.”

“All I ask is that
you look after Rachel for a few hours while I get some rest.” Then in a stern
voice, she added, “You will check each hour to see if she becomes feverish,
aye?”

Too happy to be
ashamed of the tears that streamed down his face, he replied, “Aye, Milady.”

Ella heard the
couple’s tearful reunion as she shut the door to the cottage. She remembered
her mother once saying that the greatest reward possible for a healer is
hearing cries of joy after aiding someone. 
Aye, Mama, you were right.