The Highlander's Outlaw Bride (17 page)

Children, children, children
.

Nothing silenced the words, for in her heart she knew the answer. For whatever reason, she’d never conceived a child with Mungo, but it had taken only one moment, one illicit incident beside the burn to put Conn’s bairn in her womb. It was too early to be completely sure, but she knew her body too well to hope differently.

She reined Maude to a stop and let her blow. Tam collapsed at her feet, tongue lolling, chest heaving, his tail thumping the ground. After a few moments, she urged the mare down the wooded trail. Tam’s nose led him in and out of the brush as they wound past the village and back to the hall. Approaching the stable, she spied Gavin sitting outside, cleaning his saddle. She eyed him narrowly. He had no need to clean his tack. He would never have put it away dirty, and there were plenty of stable boys to attend the task for him. It was clear he waited for her, and she bit her tongue against his coming reprimand.

She slid from Maude’s back. The mare dipped her head and gave a mighty shake. Tam drank from the water trough, then leapt into the water, splashing around in youthful high spirits. Without a word to Gavin, Brianna led the mare into her stall, where she fed and groomed her before turning her out to graze in the paddock beyond the stable.

When she returned to the front of the stable, Gavin remained, Tam wriggling in the grass beside him, still dripping water from his swim.

“Good ride?” He quirked an eyebrow, his face calm, though his lips turned down at the corners.

“Aye.” Brianna checked her stride, holding one hand out, palm down, to keep Tam from jumping on her skirts. The puppy danced about, then took off with a bark toward one of the stable cats stalking out of the door. “Keeping yer saddle clean?”

“Aye. Busy hands and all. Something wrong, lass?”

“Och, there seems to be something
wrong
every day.”

“Do ye still fear for Jamie? Ye are wound tighter than a warm plaide on a chilly day. Come, tell me what is bothering ye.”

Brianna fixed him with a blunt stare. “I think I may be with child.”

Gavin stared at Brianna, at a complete loss for words. He had imagined a lot of things that would bother her—Jamie, her da, Auld Willie, her wedding, Conn. But this turn of events wasn’t even on his list of possibilities.

“I think we both need to be sitting for this one.” He motioned for Brianna to seat herself on the bench next to his, and she complied. Waiting patiently, he considered her profile as she stared into the distance.

“Do ye remember the night we camped beside the burn outside Troon—and I disappeared?” she asked.

He nodded, easily bringing the night to mind. “Aye. Ye gave us quite a scare.”

“I went swimming in the burn as I told ye. I slipped and fell, injured my ankle, and Conn rescued me. He played the gallant, helping me look for ye. I dinnae want his help, but I had no choice.” She gave a small shrug. “I havenae had much use for men since Mungo. I prefer being in control of my options.”

Gavin shifted on his bench in the ensuing silence. There was really no need to agree with her. Her tendency to take charge was well known.

“We rode for a full day, then he announced he would be taking me to the king rather than leaving me on my own. I was unsure where the king was, if the sheriff’s man had reached him—or not—unsure if I would be imprisoned. It dinnae sound like a good idea to me. So I planned my escape.

“I got them to add lettouces to their meal that night, and Bray and Gillis were soon asleep. Once I thought Conn also slept, I slipped away, but he followed me. We sat beside the burn and talked, for I could tell he was drowsy, and I thought he would soon sleep as well.”

“Did he force ye, lass?” Gavin shoved the words past the fury building in his chest.

Brianna sighed. “Nae. I am not sure what my intentions were. I admit his attentions to me were—well, nice. I never planned to remarry, and for a few moments I wanted to know what it was like to be attracted to a man and have him love me. To not cringe at a man’s touch. I never thought to see him again.”

She stood and stepped a few feet away, hugging her arms about her waist. “I never thought I could conceive a child. I never did in all the long months as Mungo’s wife. I dinnae think it possible.”

Gavin watched as she relaxed and slowly rubbed her palms against her skirt. “How sure are ye?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Fairly sure.”

He thought he understood her answer. Raised with four sisters, his knowledge of women’s issues had few holes. He had learned much as a lad, and he knew better than to ask her what the hell she’d been thinking. Censure was not what she needed.

“Ye will be wed next week. No one will notice.”

She faced him and he was startled to see uncertainty on her face. “I still feel the distrust from my first marriage. Conn speaks well, but I dinnae know him.”

“I dinnae think ye need worry. He seems honorable. I willnae pass judgment on the husband of yer first marriage, but the MacLaurey doesnae act like a man who is a fool.”

“He doesnae act like a fool, or would be a fool to miss the wedding?”

Gavin was pleased to see a slight smile on her face. “He would have to be either dead or a fool to miss wedding ye, and a bigger fool to hurt ye.”

“Then mayhap I worry for naught. I believe it is time to set things to rights here at Wyndham and prepare for the wedding. Will ye act as steward in my absence?”

Gavin nodded. “Aye. Ye know I will do anything ye ask. And Wyndham is my home. I will protect it for wee Jamie.”

She lifted a hand, then dropped it back to her side. “Thank ye, Gavin. Ye are a staunch friend. I couldnae ask for better.”

The swing of her skirt kicked up little puffs of dust as she walked the lane to the hall. Gavin sat on the bench a moment longer, tamping down the familiar longing to comfort the lord’s daughter with more than sympathetic words.

* * *

Brianna rested a hand gently on her da’s shoulder. He looked up from the small object he turned over in his hands.

“What is it, Da?” She pointed to his hands. “What do ye have?”

He blinked at her, then down, slowly opening his hands to reveal a small golden pendant glowing in the light of the candles. Brianna sat beside him and touched his fingers.

“Where did ye get this?”

He nodded at the pendant. “’Tis yers.”

“May I see it?”

After a moment’s hesitation, he handed her the jewel. Light warmed the mellow gold and flashed off the single diamond set in the middle. She ran a fingertip over the smoothly hammered surface.

“’Twas yer ma’s before she died.”

Brianna nearly dropped the pendant in surprise. For him to speak so calmly of her ma’s death had little precedent. He was more likely to bluster and shout and demand more whisky. Her throat tightened and she put an arm about his shoulders, shocked at how thin he felt, how frail he was beneath his robes.

He frowned. “She had many things that are yers, now.”

“Mayhap ye will help me go through them one day.”

“They are for yer wedding, lass. Ye may get them when ye are ready.”

She clasped the pendant to her breast and leaned against him, the pain of Ma’s death much less with his shoulder to lean against. She dared not wonder how long his clarity would last.

“Da, I appointed Gavin to help ye when I am gone.”

“Aye. A sotted lord and a young lad cannae govern by ourselves.”

Brianna nodded. “He is a good man. I dinnae know why I dinnae see it before.”

Chapter 21

Corfin Castle, Morven

Conn nodded his satisfaction. The people of Morven had worked hard to set the castle to rights, and as a sign of appreciation he ordered an informal gathering on the castle grounds, a taste of the festivities he planned for the day he brought his bride home. He glanced at his friends and smiled. In two days, he would ride to Wyndham amid a large party of MacLaurey soldiers and Morven representatives and marry Brianna. Despite his initial dismay at finding himself betrothed, he felt assured by the rightness of it.

Nothing could mar his happiness. Even the somewhat stilted letter he’d received from her several days earlier showed she tried to overcome her reluctance to wed. She hadn’t quite mustered the courage to address him with endearing terms, but she had at least admitted she would be his wife soon. Oh, so very soon.

Servants busily supplied the tables with food and drink. With no possible way to seat everyone, all who came were invited to browse the offerings, and the area was thick with well-fed guests. Conn at last stopped his stroll through the crowd and filled a platter. He collapsed into the chair set aside for his use and motioned for a servant to fill his glass.

A haggard man hurried over with a flagon of wine and leaned over the edge of the table to pour. He lurched forward, spilling the wine and knocking Conn’s cup to the ground. He caught himself and tried to grasp the cup, but it rolled across the mud-churned ground. Conn rose to his feet and peered over the table.

“A moment, m’laird. I will fetch a clean one.” The man hurried away, clutching the dirtied cup to his chest.

“I fear you flustered the man,” Bray murmured, lifting his own mug to his lips. He grimaced. “Though the wine is not fit to be served in a dirty goblet, much less a clean one.”

“Ye would have me serve the best wine to the untutored crowds?”

The servant scurried back to the table, placing a new goblet brimming with wine carefully before Conn.

“The better wine is still in the castle, Laird,” the man murmured as he bowed and slipped away.

With a grin, Conn took a sip. “I certainly hope we aren’t pouring
this
down the throats of thirsty villagers.” He handed the cup to Bray. “Here. This will appease yer palate.”

He looked for the man who’d brought the wine, half-rising from his chair as he spied him several feet away.

“Hey!”

The man flinched and partly turned his head.

“Bring the wine to the table.”

The servant nodded and shuffled away, returning several moments later with the flagon. Conn thanked him absently and poured himself another draught.

“A toast to friendship and good wine.” The men clinked their goblets together and took a sip.

Bray rolled the wine across his tongue, eyes partly closed as he separated the flavors. “A nice fruity flavor with a hint of smokiness. Not bad at all.”

“I shall appoint ye in charge of the wine cellar.”

Bray nodded agreement, eyeing the rather dusty young man who approached their table. Stopping directly before Conn, the lad pulled a folded letter from his sporran. Conn bolted upright in his chair.

“Ye are from Wyndham?”

The young man nodded. “Aye. I am to give ye this.” He handed Conn the missive.

With eyes only for the letter, he quickly broke the seal and scanned the contents.

Bray laughed. “Walk the tables and refresh yourself,
garçon
. The laird thanks you for your service.”

Conn waved a hand vaguely in agreement, his attention on the words before him.

Conn,

Having only ever received letters from a man in the form of bills—and these were addressed to Da, though I dealt with them—I can say yers refresh my heart. They are a gentle encouragement for our life together, and I am ever hopeful it will be thus.

Thank ye for making this time of adjustment a bit easier. I can truly say I at last (I am certain ye would say at
long
last) have decided our marriage has much potential and, as ye pointed out, much to recommend it. In all seriousness, ye have warmed my heart.

Please send word on the number in yer wedding party. I will see to their comfort.

Yours,

Brianna.

“She said ‘yours’!” he shouted, waving the parchment in the air. His face heated as heads swiveled in his direction, aware he acted like a heartsick lad. In truth, he had been wary of Brianna’s response to his letters—the previous one scarcely more than an acknowledgement of receipt of his. While this one would hardly fall in the category of a love letter, he relished the subtle humor and looked forward to teaching her the ways of love.

Gillis grunted as he flopped into a chair opposite him at the table. Conn took a deep sip of wine, his mood expansive.

“Shall we share?” Conn asked Bray, nodding to the lad.

Quirking one eye in appraisal of the youth, Bray nodded. “Let the lad tutor his palate with the wine. Once he is tipsy, he will not notice when we change it for the common stuff.” He poured a measure of wine into Gillis’s cup.

“I am hungry, not thirsty,” Gillis protested.

Conn laughed. “Let the lad eat. Ye have worked him entirely too hard to deny him sustenance.”

Gillis ignored the ribbing and set to his dinner with gusto. Conn and Bray dug in to their own food and emptied the bottle of wine between them. Bray lingered over his last glass as the evening deepened and the villagers began to make their way to their homes. Servants cleared the debris.