The Rogue (29 page)

Angus murmured, “Thank ye.”

Holding Birdi’s flaccid hand, he bent his head.
Please, dear God, please help Birdi.

He should have died. He’d have gone willingly and faced the fires of hell. Why hadn’t she been willing to let fate take its course? Her pulse only fluttered beneath his fingers. He didna deserve her. If she survived, he would bring her back to her glen as she’d begged him to do time and again. And if she so wished it, he would stay with her. This time he would protect her.

F
eeling a flutter of air repeatedly rush across her fingers, Birdi wondered at the cause and opened her eyes. She smiled seeing Angus, his head level with hers, her hand firmly clasped in his near his lips, as he lay sound asleep facing her.

Mercy, he was handsome. Aye, as well as kind and brave. She studied his mouth as it hovered just a hair’s breadth from her fingers. Oh, the sensations the man could conjure up with those beautiful lips were beyond description, beyond kenning. Wishing to feel their pliant texture, she started to roll onto her side. Piercing pain shot across her middle, making her gasp. Merciful Goddess, what had happened to her? She pushed the cover back and found her stomach wrapped in sheeting from waist to hips. But how...?

It all came crashing back; going to see Auld Maggie, the Macarthur’s attack, the screaming and clash of steel on steel, and then Angus lying on the ground, his powerful body open and bleeding, destroyed.

She looked at him then and found him looking back through red-rimmed eyes. She smiled. Goddess had worked her magic again, and for some unfathomable reason, she’d spared her as well. But then she did so love things in pairs.

Birdi placed her hand low on her stomach. But then again, they’d be three, and she’d yet to tell him.

Birdi eased onto her side and brushed a lock of chestnut hair from his forehead. “Good morn.”

“Until ye spoke I was afraid I was dreaming.”

“Nay, yer awake and so apparently am I.” She stroked his cheek. “How long this time?”

Angus stretched but kept hold of her hand. “Four verra long days.”

Was he still angry? “Ye ken I had no choice.”

“Ah, but ye did, and why ye thought my life was of more worth than yer own is beyond kenning.”

She sighed. How could she make him understand? “I love ye, Angus. Ye opened the world—the good and bad—to me. Ye kept me from drowning, fed me, protected me—”

“Nay, I failed to protect ye—”

She placed a finger on his lips. “Hush. And ye showered me with more affection in just one phase of the moon than I’d received in all my seasons. Ye’re a worthy man who deserves to live, Angus. Whereas I...” She took a shuddering breath. “I’m not but a blind and feared spae. To be truthful, I didna ken if I’d survive or not...but having done so, I do ken those below are now verra frightened of me.” She’d not seen the priest since the first day, but he’d doubtless be back. And this time with torch in hand.

She blinked away tears as she stroked his scruffy cheek. “Fear not. I’ll leave without being asked. Just ken that I’ll be leaving my heart behind.”
And taking ye bairn, but he’ll be well love, I promise, so very well loved.

He brushed the tears from her cheeks. “Are ye quite through?”

She sniffed. “Aye.”

“Good, because I’m not. First, ye are the most beautiful, most loving, most compassionate, and most obstinate woman I have ever met. Second, ye willna be going anywhere. Not without me at least. Those below are not fearful. They feel as I do. Third, I want to pledge to ye before God and man. I love ye, Birdi, and if the only way I can have ye is to bring ye back to yer croft and live among my enemies, so be it.”

What?
Birdi, realizing her mouth gaped, closed it. Surely he jested. Could he mean it? And those below weren’t crossing themselves day and night because she slept above? Nay. This canna be.
 

Someone knocked on the door and Angus, smiling, called, “Come in.”

Auld Maggie poked her head around the door. “Has her fever broken yet?”

Angus grinned. “Ask her yeself.”

“She’s awake?” Auld Maggie shuffled over to the bed. “Ack, ‘tis true, and look at ye. Yer eyes are as bright as new pennies. Praise Goddess.”

“Aye,” Angus muttered, “And Lady Beth’s needlework.”

Auld Maggie peeked beneath Birdi’s dressings then clucked. “Yer healing verra nicely. Better than I expected.” She then put her hands on her hips. “Now, lassie, from here on out they’ll be no more healing until ye learn to protect yeself. All yer bleeding and angst is totally unnecessary.”

Birdi couldn’t believe her ears. “‘Tis?”

“Aye, ‘tis. I was about to tell ye as much when the Macarthurs attacked. And ye’ll not be fashin’ about ye babe, either. I have it on good authority—”

“What babe?” Angus, brow furrowed, sat bolt upright looking back and forth between Auld Maggie and herself.

Birdi pulled the bedcovers up to her chin. Oh, Goddess. His visage was turning red. Never a good sign. “Our babe?”

“Our babe? Yer with child?”

She pulled the covers over her head. “Aye.”
Oh, Goddess. He’s going to kill me. I can tell.

Through the heavy wool, Birdi heard Angus say, “Maggie, if ye’ll excuse us, please? I need a word with my ladywife.”

Birdi heard the door close.
A heart beat later Angus said, “If ye dinna come out, I’m coming under there.”

She peeked out. “I—”

“Is that what all yer fashing has been about? Ye being with bairn?”

“Aye.”

Looking thunderous, he stood and walked to the window. “Ye didna want my bairn. Ye were willing to die kenning ye’d take it with ye.”

“Ack! Angus, nay. I love ye and our bairn, wanted it desperately. ‘Tis just...I thought...”
Just say it, Birdi. Get it over with.
“I kenned I might die when I laid my hands upon ye but I didna care. I love ye. Too, I was told any bairn I bore would be more sensitive and more blind than I. Had I died, our babe—one I would surely love—wouldna have to endure, suffer as I have for years on end. I didna want him to ken the pain of reaching out hoping for affection or respect only to be rejected. To live in a black world, not even my fuzzy one.” A sob wracked her. “I ken that. All of it, and it hurts, Angus, it hurts so verra much some days I can barely breathe. So much so I have to force myself out of bed each—”

Angus’s arms came around her. “Sssh, Birdi, sssh.” He stroked her back as she continued to cry.

When she was able to speak, she whispered, “‘Twas nay from a lack of love or wanting, but from too much, that I did what I did.”

He lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. “Birdi, I shall love our child, whether he sees or not, whether he’s spae or not. He was conceived in love and will ken it, so long as I breathe. And together we’ll do the best we can to protect him from a world that may not be ready to accept him.”

Studying his face, seeing tears hover within the deep blue she so loved, she whispered, “Aye, ye will.”

“Aye.” He gave her bottom a gentle pat. “So, now we need to plan a wedding.”

Birdi sniffed and grinned. “‘Twould be best to jump the bonfire at the Beltane celebration since it ensures luck and fertility, but we do seem to have plenty of both,” she patted her stomach, “so I suppose a wedding on Samhain will do.”

Why Angus groaned, she couldn’t imagine.

A
nd so it came to pass that on the morning of the shortest day of the year, Samhain, Angus and Birdi stood in Blackstone’s great hall and signed the great ledger, then all hustled to the chapel where they pledged to love, honor, and obey ‘til death did them part before a traveling priest and the entire MacDougall clan.

After the ceremony, they all rushed back to the great hall where they raised their tankards to the newlyweds. Duncan, standing before a crowd anxious to start their feast, raised his tankard. “Ladies and gentlemen, to the bride and groom.” Cheers rang off the rafters and fists thundered on tables.

He raised his tankard again. “To Laird Angus MacDougall of Donaliegh and his lovely wife, Lady Elizabeth Birdi MacDougall.”

Birdi preened. Aye, she’d finally chosen a name.

Angus, jaw slack, took the offered scroll and the keys from his liege’s hands. “But ye said...”

Grinning, Duncan threw his arm around his best friend’s shoulders. “All I ever wanted was for ye to find a woman worthy of ye, Angus. One who would love ye as much as my Beth loves me, and ye did.”

As everyone ate, drank, and laughed, four stout men rushed the priest along, then hustled him into a boat and took him to Dresmoor, where they handed him a fat purse and then slapped his pony’s rump. Hard.

In the great hall, the pipes, lutes and flutes began to play and the clan danced until the sun began to set. They then marched down Blackstone’s quay and got into their boats. The entire clan made their way across Drasmoor bay and up into the hills to the sacred spring, where Auld Maggie, the shrine keeper, waited at the bonfire. Angus and Birdi again pledged their love then having circled the fire and well multiple times, they drank from the sacred spring, joined hands and jumped over the fire and into their future.

A week later, Duncan loaned Angus five stalwart soldiers to take with them to Donaliegh, since he didn’t know the number or battle readiness of the forces there. Angus tried to trap Wolf in a cage for the journey, but the beast would have no part of it, and in the end followed as he chose on foot.

Donaliegh Castle was all Angus and Birdi could have ever hoped for and all the work anyone would ever want to face in one lifetime, huge and rundown as it was.

Once the family was settled and the food stores and arms put away, Angus fashioned a leather collar for Wolf. Birdi painted it to match Angus’s shield and attached it to Wolf’s neck so all would know he belonged to her. The clan was told not to harm him and bring any complaints to their liege.

While Angus and the men labored over stone and mortar, Birdi raised chickens, which she turned loose in the high hills above Castle Donaliegh where Wolf roamed.

Then on Beltane Day, Mistress Charlotte Rowena Prudence Katherine MacDougall—Birdi wanted to be sure the child never lacked for a name—came into the world with a lusty cry in Donaliegh’s warm solar.

She had her mother’s black curls and dimples and her father’s deep blue eyes, which pleased Birdi no end.

The babe grew as any healthy bairn should and played as any bairn might. Birdi and Angus were thrilled beyond measure that she could see as well as any and showed no sign of being highly sensitive to anyone’s pain but her own.

All was as it should be until, at the tender age of two, Wee Charlotte toddled out the great hall and fell down the stairs leading to the bailey. What made the event so unusual was the fact that Birdi—she now had spectacles, the lenses having been made by a friend of Duncan’s in Italia—and Angus both plainly saw that the staircase door was closed and latched when their bairn disappeared through it.

Wee Charlotte suffered only a few scrapes and bruises, but her parents have yet to recover.

The End...until next time.

I must thank:

Paige Wheeler, Agent extraordinaire, for her invaluable advice and enthusiasm for this work and her associate Jita Fumich for bringing this book to light once again;

Artist Lyndsey Lewellen, the creative spirit behind
THE LAIRD’S
beautiful cover, and the wonderful Kat Baldwin and Clarke Baldwin at Ink Lion for working their magic and reformatting this work;

Scott Blair, Husband and lover, who encouraged me to take the premier office space in our new home in the hopes I might write faster;

Alex Blair, Son and computer wizard, for keeping a straight face every time I misplace a manuscript in my computer;

dearest friends and critique partners Suzanne Welsh and Julie Benson(I couldn’t do this without you,)

my fabulous Foxes, whose enthusiastic support and goading even at a distance keeps me going;

DARA for teaching me how to write,

The Wet Noodle Posse, aka Golden Heart Class of 2004, and the terrific authors of Romance Unleashed for providing insight and humor whenever it’s most needed;

Billie Jo Case, the brilliant mind behind the Fan Club and to all the wonderful members who go there each morning to visit with me, in particular avid romance readers Joy Brown, Danny Bruggeman, Ruth Chesick, Sandy Marlow (my fabulous video trailer artist,) Colleen Poor, Pam Pellini, Julia Pham, Dawna Richard, Michelle Siudut, Lynn Rettig, Marie Sherman, Jennifer Yates, and Ivka Vuletic;

And lastly my heartfelt thanks to all of you who took the time to once again suspend your disbelief and travel back with me into the past.

Most sincerely,

Sandy

Award-winning author Sandy Blair has slept in castles, dined with peerage, floated down Venetian canals, explored the great pyramids, lost her husband in an Egyptian ruin (she still denies being the one lost,) and fallen (gracefully) off a cruise ship.