Authors: Heather McCollum
Caden grabbed him by the shirt. How dare he touch Meg! Try to take her from him!
“Like I said, just a bridal kiss and then I’d escort her back to you, of course.” Gilbert tried to connect with Meg’s gaze. “My comments were about no one finding ye here because we’d returned to the party already. Why in hell would I bring the wrath of The Macbain down on me by stealing his bride? I just bloody brought you more grain.”
Could Meg have misunderstood? Gilbert certainly scared her, attacked her enough that she was forced to defend herself. Caden breathed deep to control his fury and released his hold.
Gilbert straightened his shirt. “Such a temper. Would ye really start another war over a woman when ye just ended one? And I thought ye were the wise one.”
“Wise enough to know that my height would stand out above an oat field, making it difficult to burn without being seen.” Caden had always had his suspicions about the man. His father certainly coveted the Macbain land.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Macbain.”
“You know I am responsible for protecting and feeding my people,” Caden said, his dagger still in his fist. “If I find out a
neighbor
has declared a silent war against us, I will kill him.”
Gilbert’s Adam’s apple wobbled in his throat. “If ye kill me, Macbain, ye’ll have England to worry about.”
Meg’s breath hitched.
“Are you in league with the
Sasunnach
?” Caden demanded.
“Nay, but some in these mountains are. They pledge themselves to Henry in an attempt to befriend the land-greedy king.”
“And you have no interest in selling your principles for protection from English guns.”
“Nay,” Gilbert said, his grin fading to something like a feral grimace. “For someone who has just publicly proclaimed yer desire for a united Scotland, ye seem to be itching for another war.”
Caden slid his dagger back in its leather scabbard. “Leave or stay if you wish.” His unblinking eyes met Gilbert’s. “Either way, never touch my wife again.”
Meg stumbled into Gilbert, her mouth near his ear. What was she doing? “Tell Girshmel my beast survived and is hungry for him.”
Caden pulled her back and brushed her through the archway. The lass risked too much.
Meg sank down in her chair and closed her eyes. Bloody merriment still filled the hall so he couldn’t whisk her upstairs.
Caden sat down next to her and watched her breathe. He replayed the whole incident in his head while he waited. Gilbert was a problem, but he’d deal with that after the festival.
After a long moment she peeked out. “You’re…grinning?” she asked, worry marking her voice.
His eyebrow rose. “So well that stars swim before yer eyes?”
“The bridal ale is strong. I’m sorry if I—”
He held up a hand. “No apologies needed, wife. I’m just glad I had a chance to give ye something to boast about.”
Caden moved closer and kissed her lips. His heart slowed with her nearness, with her safety. He pulled back. “Are ye certain he didn’t harm ye in any way?”
“I am unharmed.” She sat up straighter. “Just worried that we have a new enemy.”
Caden laced his fingers through hers. “A united Scotland is a distant dream.” His expression turned grim. “Hot-tempered Highlanders butt heads more often than not. We’re a fierce lot, but our strength can also become our weakness.”
She leaned into him. “We’ve just taken a step backward, haven’t we?”
“Nay, lass, don’t think of it that way. I believe Gilbert Davidson was always an enemy. Now he’s one that I know of, which makes him much less dangerous.”
Ewan walked up. “I saw Gilbert Davidson.”
“He cornered Meg alone. I think he had more in mind than giving the bride a friendly kiss.”
Ewan scowled. “He fits the description of the tall man Angus saw with the torch.”
“He denies it, of course,” Caden said.
“He was hiding something,” Meg said.
Both men turned to her.
Meg sighed. “Remember when I said that Girshmel was part of the attack at Loch Tuinn?”
“Aye,” Ewan said.
“Just now as we were leaving, I mentioned that he should tell Girshmel that Nickum was still alive.”
“That’s why ye did that,” Caden said. “Ye risked too much.”
“He showed all the signs that he knew exactly what I was talking about and was nervous,” she answered.
“Ye got that just by touching him?” Ewan asked.
“Thanks to her gift,” Caden said, his eyes not leaving Meg. “She can tell when someone lies by the way their body reacts.”
“Amazing.” Ewan grinned at Caden. “So ye’ll be able to tell if Caden ever lies to ye.”
“Girshmel is working for Davidson,” Caden said, chewing on the information. “At the loch, Girshmel said that his boss would want ye.”
Caden watched Gilbert laugh his way through the crowds with another Davidson at his side.
“Simon follows him constantly, like an obedient dog,” Ewan said.
Caden relaxed his fist and grabbed a drumstick. “Davidson’s afraid to walk alone.”
Meg stared, her mouth dropping open. “Are you going to let him leave?”
“Aye,” Caden said, and took a bite.
“He’s dangerous.”
Ewan winked mischievously. “Don’t fret, milady, for yer husband is wise. Let the wolf return to the pack and wait to see if he truly is the leader. Because it’s the leader that must be thwarted.”
Meg turned to Caden. “You think he’s helping the English? Maybe Boswell?”
“Davidson brought it up, not me,” Caden said. “I won’t know if I capture him now unless he confesses under…pressure. If we do that, we could still lose the leader. Best to let Davidson think he’s safe. And I wouldn’t want to curse our wedding day feast.”
Wine followed the ale, along with roast goose and fresh herbed bread. Baked apples with honey were served with strong creamy cheeses. Caden tasted each thing Meg wanted to eat first, but nothing seemed out of place. Bess hadn’t found who had poisoned Meg’s soup, and he hadn’t seen her here today. Father Daughtry sat at one end with a tankard and a full plate. The cleric laughed around a little hiccup and grinned sheepishly. Gwyneth sat with him and Ann joined them after making sure Meg was all right.
Caden ordered several of his warriors to follow Gilbert around the celebration until he left. Meg relaxed into his side, contentment in her features. The beauty of it pressed inside Caden’s chest. How could one wee lass fill him with such power, such calm and happiness? It was beyond anything he’d ever experienced.
“I’m so happy here,” she murmured. “Here with you. I’m glad I can help our people in some small way,” she said. “I am finally part of a family.”
Och, he had to tell her everything. Yes, she was part of this family and he’d hoped that none would tell Meg her initial status as captive. Maybe none would, but he would always know. She needed to know, deserved to know, and she should hear the truth from him.
She yawned and leaned into Caden. “How long do these parties last?”
It was his chance. He’d carry her above now and love her until stars swam before her eyes. Then he’d tell her everything. Not just the mission but the reason for his desperate act. He wouldn’t let her leave their room until she understood. Aye, it was a good plan.
“Until I can no longer stand the constant brush of yer leg against mine and that amazing flowery woman scent ye give off.” His eyes dropped to her low neckline and the soft swell of breasts pushed above its satin edging. “Until I can no longer pretend to concentrate on routine discussions about horses and government and must carry ye above.”
He leaned in close so that to anyone else it would seem like they were kissing. His lips brushed hers. “Until I can no longer contain my lust for my beautifully curved wi—”
Before he could even finish the word, Meg closed the miniscule distance between their lips, kissing him wantonly. She pulled him closer with one hand behind his head as he tilted her face to deepen the kiss.
A cold
whoosh
of air blew in as the doors banged open again. Meg shivered but continued the kiss.
A scream pierced the hall.
…
Meg jerked backward, her fingers squeezing Caden’s arm. Everyone turned toward the entryway. A woman wobbled in, covered with snow.
“Where is my brother?” she screamed. “Someone find Caden!”
Brother? This must be Caden’s sister.
Meg’s stomach tightened, and her hand flattened against the beautiful skirts.
I hope she doesn’t mind me borrowing her gowns
.
“Sarah?” Caden turned. “Bloody hell.”
He stood and strode out amongst the hushed people. Meg followed, excited to greet Caden’s sister. The woman was fairly tall, her hair dark and matted from the melting snow caking it. Red, swollen eyes searched the crowd. She’d been crying. However, the enormous belly was what pulled everyone’s attention. She was pregnant, more pregnant than anyone Meg had ever attended. She waddled more than walked.
“Caden, the bloody bastards took Eòin!” she screamed. She held her girth. Her protruding stomach stuck out so far, Meg wondered how she didn’t fall forward.
“What are you doing out in this storm and in your condition?” Caden asked. “Where is your husband?”
Poor woman
.
Sarah kicked Caden’s shin and shrieked, a howl that funneled up through the room, silencing even the most distant attendee. “I said, they took him! The bloody Munros are going to kill him!”
“Munros took Eòin?” Caden asked calmly and signaled to Ewan. Ewan leapt up and signaled two other men. They waited near the entrance.
“Get Rachel and Searc,” Caden said to Donald.
Sarah sobbed. Meg made a move to help, but Caden blocked her advance. This stress wasn’t good for the baby. If Sarah thought the Munros took her husband, she wouldn’t want Aunt Rachel’s help.
“When they came up to the house, Eòin made me hide outside around back. I watched them take him away! He’s probably dead already!”
“You recognized them as Munros?”
“Of course they were! Who else would take him?” She grabbed his arm, leaning into him. “I know you have a plan, brother, but we have to use the Englishwoman now! Send word that you’ll kill her if they don’t return my Eòin.” She swallowed. “I can’t raise this bairn without its father.”
Meg’s breath hitched. She stood perfectly still, her eyes on the woman. Use the Englishwoman? A plan? There were no other Englishwomen around.
“Sarah, much has happened since we last talked,” Caden said, his hands balling into fists at his sides. Without moving his gaze he said, “Fiona, why don’t ye take my bride upstairs?”
“I think I’ll stay,” Meg said, her words flat, hiding the twisting of hatching betrayal in her gut.
Sarah sobbed harder. “How could you be marrying at a time like this? You were on a mission to England, and then you were back so soon.” She shook her head as if she couldn’t believe all this. “Where is the niece of the Great Munro? You captured her, everyone says so. Ransom her now.”
“The plan changed, Sarah,” Caden said slowly.
Meg stood in the center of the filled room. No one moved, no one breathed. Was she even breathing? She couldn’t tell. Nausea warred with numbness, causing pinpricks of light to spark in her periphery.
Caden had planned to use her.
He’d been on a mission down in England. There was a blood feud. Ugly thoughts whirled through Meg as she pieced details together. Never any words of love, only peace. The voices in the room seemed muffled as if she heard them at the end of a long tunnel. She sucked in air between dry lips. No, she couldn’t lose consciousness, not when there was so much she needed to hear.
Sarah glanced around wildly. “Where is she? In the dungeons or upstairs?” She stomped her foot while holding her belly. “Get her, Caden. I don’t care if your save-us-all plan has changed. Ride against the Munros.” The last command ended with tears, though the strong woman did not crumple. “Bloody hell, Caden, I’ll get her myself!” she yelled. “Where is she?”
Meg’s legs worked on their own as she stepped forward.
Caden manacled her wrist but she walked past him, getting as far forward as she could.
“Hello, Sarah,” Meg said, bringing the woman’s tear-filled gaze to focus. “I am Meg…Boswell, Macleod, Macbain,” she said in Gaelic. “Your new sister, the English prisoner.”
Chapter Ten
17 April 1517—Shepherd’s Purse: green, slender, white flowers, pods of yellow seeds, foul odor.
Drink to stop internal bleeding and flooding. Ointment for wounds about the head. Apply poultice to angry flesh and to staunch external bleeding. Plant juice on a bit of wool. Placed in the nose, it will stop heavy blood flow. Find Shepherd’s Purse far across wild heaths.
“Meg,” Caden said from behind her.
She stood firm. A room of people watched. Were they waiting for her to break down before his sister, run away screaming, faint? She wouldn’t give them a show, and she wouldn’t back down from the increasingly red, blotchy woman.
In the space of a heartbeat, Sarah pulled back her fist and whipped it toward Meg’s face.
Caden’s hand caught it before it made contact. Meg didn’t even flinch.
“Let me go, Caden!” Sarah yanked her fist from him. “How could you marry a Munro? A bloody English Munro?” She leaned to the side, trying to get a hold of Meg’s hair. She caught the sleeve of Meg’s gown and ripped it down, exposing her arm.
Self preservation kicked in, and Meg grabbed the material with a twist of her body. She might be a captive here, but she wasn’t going to be stripped in front of an audience.
Caden jumped between them, as did Ancient Kenneth.
“Sarah Macbain.” Kenneth spoke low, in the authoritative tone of a father. “Calm yourself, lass, and hear your brother out.”
“The Munro’s English niece roams free through Druim Castle. She eats Macbain food! Dances to Macbain music while her bloody uncle kills my husband! I will not calm down!” Sarah’s last word came out with a moan, a familiar moan.
Meg had heard it in women down in Yorkshire. She was in labor. Sarah bent over, her large belly hanging. Kenneth and Kieven helped her sit down.
“Meg,” Caden said. “We need to talk, lass.”
“I think enough has been said for now,” Meg replied. Even a glance at his beguiling, secret-keeping features hurt too much. Instead, she watched his sister twist with pain. It had to be equal to what she felt inside.
Oh God, had Caden married her only to force her uncle to do something? Was this marriage really a prison sentence? Panic and fury sluiced through her. Meg could hardly think straight with everything slapping at her confidence. One glance revealed that despite Sarah’s noise, Meg was definitely the focus of everyone in the hall. They all knew that she was really a captive, that Caden was using her, that her marriage was a farce.
She caught sight of Gwyneth. The woman gave her a sad shake of pity, her lips curled into a tight pucker. The gesture knifed through Meg with such force she nearly doubled over with the moaning woman. She needed to get out of the hall, away from the stares. She had to think.
Sarah’s guttural cry struck a chord in Meg. She needed to get out of the hall, too. Perhaps they should go together. She might have been made a fool, but she was no fool when it came to healing.
“I need to touch her,” Meg said. “She’s in labor.”
Caden grabbed both of his sister’s arms. “Be still, Sarah, or you’ll harm the bairn.”
Meg walked behind Sarah and reached to touch her shoulder.
“Oh.” Meg exhaled and yanked back. Her gaze met Caden’s. He certainly needed her now.
Sarah howled with a new pain.
“Take her upstairs. There are two babes inside. Things are dangerously cramped inside.”
“Two bairns?” Kenneth asked. “How do ye—”
“Move!” Caden’s voice rippled through the gathered Macbains. They pushed backward in unison as he heaved his sister into his arms.
“Ride to the Munros, Ewan,” Caden called, and the three men at the door strode out into the snowy afternoon.
“There were no plans to take her husband or anyone,” Rachel said, and glanced at Searc, who agreed.
“That was before you two disappeared,” Caden answered.
“Aunt Rachel, we’ll need you up here.”
Meg ran behind Caden. “Fiona. Bring your herbs, especially calming herbs. Ann, Jonet, come help.”
Her friends followed.
Friends? Enemies of the Munros, who knew all about Caden’s plan. Enemies who jumped to help her because they loved Caden’s sister? Or because they respected Meg? She massaged the ache at her forehead.
Caden carried his sister into Meg’s original room and laid Sarah in the middle of the bed.
“Stoke up the fire,” Meg ordered.
“What can we do?” Jonet breathed.
“I need clean linens, a sharp knife, strong string, some rope, and a pot of water to be placed in the fire to heat,” Meg said.
“Get them out! Yer English bride and her witchy aunt!” Sarah moaned with another wave of pain. “Throw them in the dungeons,” she whispered as she strained.
Meg ignored her. “Aunt Rachel, what do you think of a rope around the rafter that she can hold onto?”
“I’ve seen it done with success.”
Some women found it easier to push when they held themselves upright from a suspended rope.
“I mean it, brother,” Sarah yelled, her voice once more strong. “I want them out. I’ll not have my bairn brought into the world by a prisoner.”
Caden looked between them, his gaze resting on Meg. “What do ye want me to do?”
Sarah’s eyes grew rounder still. “You ask her what to do?” She moaned and grabbed her belly.
Meg moved close to Sarah, careful to stay out of reach. “Caden, hold her arms.”
He hesitated, and Meg shot him the most brutal loathing she could summon. There was no time for hesitation. Either he supported her during this horror or he didn’t. “Do you want them all to die, then? Both babes are in danger and so is she if we don’t help.”
Caden grabbed his sister’s wrists, and Meg hid her relief in a handkerchief she swiped across her forehead. No, he hadn’t chosen her over his clan, but in this little battle he’d chosen her over kin.
Sarah cursed in Gaelic until another pain gripped her. Meg waited until it subsided and walked up to Sarah. Some patients needed tenderness and love. Others needed a hard kick or a big dose of reality.
“I’m sorry we’ve met under these circumstances,” Meg said.
Caden restrained his sister as she attempted to claw at Meg. Meg didn’t flinch, knowing that he would stop any attack.
“Regardless, you need my help.”
“Get away from me!” Sarah spat.
“Sarah!” Meg yelled. “You have two babies in you who are going to die shortly if you don’t work with me to get them out. Do you want your babies to die?”
Fresh tears gushed from swollen eyes as Sarah shook her head. “Nay!” She breathed out long and seemed to calm a bit after several in and outs. “Two, ye say? Are ye sure?”
Meg wasn’t about to go into the complexities of her talent. She moved forward and ran her hand over Sarah’s distended belly. “I’ve delivered twenty-two babies. I can tell. And they need to come out quickly, as the cord oftentimes wraps around one or both.”
She caught Caden’s eye and gave the briefest of nods. Time was running out.
Sarah’s breath hitched during the contraction. Meg came closer, locking gazes with the woman. “Breathe with me, Sarah,” she said and counted, moving her hands in to indicate an inhale and then counted down to show how to hold the exhale.
Jonet, Ann, and Kieven barreled back into the room with the supplies, Fiona quick on their heels. Gwyneth peeked around the doorway but retreated when Sarah groaned. Thank goodness! Meg didn’t need her jeers or pitying glances.
Meg and Rachel directed everyone, and within minutes the rope was looped over a rafter at the end of the bed, the water heated, and linens draped.
Caden released his sister’s hands, but he leaned into her and kissed her sweaty forehead. “Sarah, follow Meg’s instructions. Listen to her. She knows the ways of birthing and healing.”
“Find Eòin,” she cried.
“I will,” he said. “That’s my job, sister. You do your job, too. Listen and obey Meg.” He paused. “I don’t want to bury you and your bairns.”
Sarah started to inhale on another pain.
“Out,” Meg ordered him. “This is only for women now.” She flapped her hand toward the door.
“Meg…” The contours of Caden’s face tighted with barely controlled fury or…pain. “We will finish our discussion.”
Meg clasped Sarah’s hand. “I don’t believe you ever chose to start a discussion with me.”
“Then we will bloody hell be starting one,” Caden swore.
Meg brushed Sarah’s hair from her forehead. “Time to get your babes out of you.”
Sarah closed her eyes to rest between contractions. Meg surveyed her womb through her senses. The girl baby would come first. She breathed through the umbilical cord. The second baby, a boy, needed help. The cord wound around his fragile neck and each tug and wiggle pulled it tighter. Soon his throat would collapse under the strain.
“Don’t push yet, Sarah,” Meg said. “Jonet, wipe her brow with a wet cloth. Ann, lay a drape toward the end of the bed, under the ropes.”
Rachel oversaw the other preparations. She laid out the knife and thread to tie off the umbilical cords.
“You knew,” Meg said softly, moving closer to Rachel. “That I was a captive…and you left me here.”
Rachel hesitated at first. She gave a brief nod, her features strong, unrepentant. “You were in safe hands here. Not knowing your true status alleviated the fear.”
“And my marriage? You’ve orchestrated this whole thing, this plan to trick your husband into accepting this peace, isn’t it?”
Rachel exhaled long. “Don’t close your heart to Caden. A man doesn’t tie himself to a woman when there are other options, unless he cares for her.”
“Which he’s never mentioned. I…I don’t know what to think, about him or even about you.” Meg walked to the fire to help Fiona spoon the hot wet linens from the boiling pot.
Fiona touched her arm. “She’s right. Ye were always safe. I could have gotten ye out of Druim whenever ye needed or wanted to go.”
“Hmm…perhaps I should have known that before I said ‘I do.’”
Evelyn bustled in with more linens. Caden stood just beyond, feet braced, arms crossed over his chest as if waiting for the call to battle. His gaze ran the room, connecting with Meg’s. A hard stare, full of fire and strength and passion for his beliefs. A chill seeped across Meg’s back and shoulders, in sharp contrast to the sweat that snaked between her breasts.
She pulled up the last dripping cloth and placed it over the heavy pole used to hold the clean linens. Sarah screamed and Jonet slammed the door shut.
“I see the bairn’s head,” Ann yelled.
Meg met Fiona’s eyes. “After this, you will get me out.”
Fiona stared, sad understanding in her eyes, and crossed to Sarah. Enough talk of deception. Time for new life and miracles. Meg followed.
The little girl came into the world with a full head of dark hair and lusty bellows. Meg cut and tied the cord and passed the healthy baby to Rachel, who washed off the blood. Evelyn cooed over the pink baby and brought her up to Sarah’s sweat-streaked face.
“She’s spunky,” Evelyn said, smiling. “I can tell already you’ll be chasing after her.”
Sarah kissed the baby.
“Sarah.” Meg touched the woman’s stomach to assess the boy’s progress. “Rest for now.”
Sarah leaned back and closed her eyes.
“Are ye certain there’s another bairn inside?” Ann asked.
“Most certain.” She checked the baby girl. Blood rushed through her little body with vigor, lungs filled and compressed, fluids moved and cleared. Healthy and hungry.
“Is there a wet nurse?” Meg asked.
“I’ll get Elizabeth Loman,” Jonet said. “She can help until Sarah’s milk comes in.”
Men’s voices raised and pitched on the other side of the door. The door banged open.
“Sarah!” A mud-streaked man charged into the room. “I’m here, flower!”
“Eòin,” Sarah called weakly, but didn’t rise. “We have a bairn. A wee lassie.” Her hand flapped in the direction of the baby girl in a cradle near the fire. “There’s another to come,” she said and tears slid down her face. “You’re well?”
The man grabbed Sarah’s hand and squeezed. “Aye, I’m fine. Why did you not wait at home?”
“The Munros took you. I had to do something.”
“They were fools, didn’t know the land. I was away from them within the hour.”
So the Munros were also fools,
Meg thought, and frowned at the dirt the man tramped into the room. Birthing rooms should be clean, orderly.
“And they were not Munros,” Eòin said. “One spoke with an English accent and the other referred to the Munros like he wasn’t one of them.”
English? Meg’s heart slammed inside her chest. “Have you told this to Caden?”
Eòin surveyed her as if he wondered who she was. “Aye, quickly.”
Sarah groaned. “I think the other bairn is coming.”
Eòin paled under the dirt.
“Out!” Meg ordered. “While you men seem intent on slicing life out of this world, we women must do our job to bring life into it. Out!”
Eòin kissed Sarah’s hand and stepped away. “When can I see my wee bairns?” His gaze drifted over to the hearth.
“Soon, now go.” Meg moved to the end of the bed. “Ann, Evelyn, help Sarah up to hold onto the ropes.
Sarah groaned. “I’m so tired. I can’t do this.”
Meg glanced at the closed door. Luckily, Eòin hadn’t heard that or she’d have him and his dirt back in here. She moved up to Sarah’s head and smoothed the hair away from her forehead. “Sarah, you rode through a Highland blizzard to find help for your husband. You birthed a beautiful, healthy baby girl. You punched your brother’s hand with enough force to make him wince.”
“Caden winced?” Sarah asked, the spirit in her eyes igniting.
Meg hadn’t actually seen that, but
she
had certainly winced. She raised her eyebrows. “Yes. Winced, I’m telling you. You are strong, Sarah. You can do this.”
Sarah shook her head as another pain gripped her.
“Sarah, repeat after me. I am strong and powerful.”
Sarah shook her head.
“Come now, say it. I am strong and powerful.”
“I…am…strong and…powerful.”
“That’s it. Keep saying it.” Meg lifted Sarah toward the ropes. Jonet and Ann looped each arm into the supports.