His Bonnie Bride

by Hannah Howell

  "I hae looked at the bairns meself. Aye, and Storm is looking fine and healthy as weel," he reiterated, anticipating Tavis's question. "Now, Lord Eldon sent ye a word or twa."

  Staring at the packet before him, Tavis almost laughed. "A word or twa, eh? Looks to be a book."

  With a sigh, Tavis began to read the long missive from his new father-in-law. The others in the hall celebrated the new heir and his sister quite merrily without the new father's participation. If there were any among them who had harbored qualms about the match, they did no longer. Storm's heritage faded into insignificance compared to the fact that she had born Tavis's heir, had, in fact, born two healthy bairns her very first time. This astonishing feat they naturally attributed to her Irish heritage and Scottish lover.

  Tavis felt both amusement and annoyance as he read Lord Eldon's letter. The man was swiftly shaping up into someone Tavis was almost sorry to have drawn a sword upon. There was still a touch of reproach to Eldon's words, but Tavis could understand that. Eldon was being forced to accept a man as kin that he should have, by all rights, run through with his sword.

  Every detail of the birth was related, for which Tavis was truly grateful. It was the next best thing to being there. He felt both resentful and grateful toward Eldon. Tavis recognized that he was jealous of Eldon's part in the birth, yet could not help but be thankful that the man had been there to give Storm his strength. He was also jealous of the very obvious closeness between father and daughter.

  Those feelings paled into insignificance when Tavis read further. Eldon wanted him to wait even longer before seeing Storm and his children, almost another month. As if to rub salt into open wounds, Eldon proceeded to give him advice on how to handle Storm when he finally saw her.

  "The cursed man is telling me how to handle Storm," he growled, tossing the missive to Colin.

  "Weel," drawled Sholto, "ye maun admit ye havenae done a verra good job of it so far." He dodged Tavis's lunge.

  "Here now, Tavis." Colin spoke over the laughter. "The man makes some verra good points."

  "Does he now. He also tells me I cannae see her for near to another month. I maun still wait."

  "He gives a verra good reason for that, a reason that shows he is thinking on your benefit. 'Tis verra true that a woman behaves verra emotionally after bearing a bairn. Ye neednae face her when she is nay apt to be using her head. Ye want her to listen to ye. There's less chance o' that right now. So ye wait."

  "Storm's always been emotional," growled Tavis, recalling laughter, sorrow, rage and passion all openly displayed.

  "Aye, but 'tis different when a woman be carryin' a child and for a time after she bears it," said Malcolm, the father of six, and a number of men who were married and had children nodded in agreement. "A woman that ne'er weeps will turn into a waterfall and a woman that ne'er gets angry will snap and snarl. There isnae any reasoning with it either. Ye can only soothe, try tae keep your temper and wait 'til it passes. 'Tis nay a time tae sort out problems. Eldon's right aboot that. Ye could only make things worse. Wait as he asks."

  Colin looked at Tavis. "From what he writes here, lad, ye have a muckle lot to gain by the waiting."

  Tavis sighed and massaged his temples. Eldon had related the conversation between himself and Storm on the ride home after the wedding. The knowledge of how Storm felt stirred him to the point of extreme discomfort. It was difficult to think that a woman felt such things, yet he had no disgust, did not think her shameless or wanton, only wanted to get her into his arms. That, of course, was a very good reason to wait for a while longer. Storm could not be bedded yet, and he doubted he could near her without wanting to for at least several days running.

  "God," he groaned, "it seems I have done naught but wait for a chance to make amends."

  "Ye are waiting to gain what some o' us ne'er find," Iain said quietly. " 'Tis worth it."

  A nod of heartfelt agreement was all that Tavis could manage.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Storm walked toward the hall, her son in her arms and Phelan at her side. Elaine followed with her daughter, Aingeal, gurgling merrily. At three months, the twins were growing plump and lively. Unlike others, Eldon had no firm rules as to the use of the hall. He felt there ought to be one place where all mixed freely, so women sat with men and there were often children running about. If there was a need of serious discussion between himself and his men-at-arms or anyone else, he simply cleared the hall. There were a few eyebrows raised at this arrangement, but only by those not of Hagaleah.

  The winter had been hard, but it was surprisingly mild for mid-March. Spring was just around the corner. Storm refused to recall a mild late March night a year past. Memories only gave her pain, and she felt she had had more than her share already. Even so they engulfed her as she neared the hall causing her to pause in her advance. She could hear the low sound of men talking and found herself straining to discern one voice. Elaine's face revealed nothing to her.

  "What is it, Storm?" Phelan asked when he saw that she was not going to continue on her way.

  "I am not quite sure. 'Tis just a feeling that tells me that I will not like what I find in the hall today."

  Struggling to put aside her qualms, she continued, only to stop in the doorway and glare at those gathered there. "My feeling was right."

  For a moment she simply stared at Tavis, trying to sort anger out of the maelstrom of emotions she felt and cling to it. It was not easy, for she knew she still loved him, still ached for him. Knowing who had let her husband come to Hagaleah, Storm turned her glare upon her father, meeting only a guileless smile that she did not let fool her for a minute and that only added to her anger. Elaine's soothing noises did no good at all.

  Tavis paid little attention to her obvious anger. His eyes drank in the sight of her lithe form like a starving man. In an attempt to control the desire that shook through him, he turned his gaze to his children. Emotion choked him as he looked from his son's bright head to his daughter's dark one and back again many times. Acceptance of his fatherhood had been hard to gain, but now it flooded through him.

  "Why are ye here?" Storm snarled at Tavis as she strode to the table. "Have ye run out of whores at Caraidland and come marketing here? Ye are too late. Elaine cleaned house months past."

  "A simple well met will do, Storm," drawled Roden, but there was laughter in his voice.

  Tossing a glare at his family, who snickered with the others, Tavis looked at Storm and fought to keep his temper in check. "I have come to see my bairns and to speak to ye."

  Sitting down next to her brother Andrew, Storm looked at Tavis icily. "Here they are. Look your fill." She pushed away all feeling as he approached. "When ye are done looking ye may leave."

  Taking the seat Andrew gave him, Tavis held his hands out for his son. "May I hold him?"

  Storm handed him the child without a word. She could see the glitter of anger in his eyes, yet his voice remained calm. This sign of control unnerved her more than anything else could have, for it showed that Tavis was determined to have his way in this matter. A Tavis set on having his way was a formidable foe, so formidable that Storm began to feel afraid, something she strove to hide from him.

  Just sitting near him was causing her insides to curl and melt. It was hard to keep up her icy attitude. What she longed to do was hurl herself into his arms and stay there until he doused the fire that had burned in her for months. Simply breathing in the clean male scent of him was driving her to distraction.

  For a while at least Tavis knew relief from that torment. The first time of holding his son and then his daughter had cleared his mind of all else. With a sense of wonder, he touched them all over, from their silky curls to their tiny toes. In a time when a healthy baby was a blessing he found himself with two.

  In an age where men had little to do with babies, Storm noticed there was yet another similarity between her family and Tavis's. The MacLagans felt no shame in holding a baby and taking delight in
him. Her children were soon making the rounds amongst their Scottish kin. As she had with her father, Storm watched large calloused hands that could wield a sword with deadly precision handle the babies with gentle, loving firmness. The MacLagans, as Eldon did, saw that the future lay in these babies, that there was no loss of manliness in the enjoyment of children who were God's promise of the continuity of man.

  With his arms now empty of child, Tavis rapidly regained the need to wrap them around Storm. Sitting at his side and sipping a tankard of ale, she gave him no encouragement to do so. It was hard to believe that she had ever lain awake aching for him.

  "I have held my bairns. Now I wish to speak with ye."

  "Are ye sure there's time? The day hastens on. Ye must not get behind in your wenching."

  "God's teeth, Storm, I havenae been wenching," he ground out, his hands clenching into fists.

  "Really?" she drawled, glaring at him. "I suppose ye were just counting Katerine's teeth with your tongue to save getting your fingers wet." She was mostly unaware of the badly smothered laughter her remark brought.

  "Now it starts," murmured Colin as he sat down next to Eldon, and there was laughter in his voice.

  "I enjoy Storm in full rage," mused Eldon. "She does have a way with words."

  "Takes after her father," Colin said quietly, and grinned when Eldon sent him a mock scowl.

  "Nay," Tavis snapped, "but I willnae explain that afore all these people. I want some privacy."

  Storm finished her ale, slammed her tankard down upon the table and leapt to her feet. "Ye can have all the privacy ye wish, but I will not join ye. Well do I know your tricks, Tavis MacLagan."

  "So ye should," he sneered as he rose to stand before her, "ye askit for them oft enough."

  "E'en the mundane is craved when one is bored," she purred, forcing herself not to blush.

  Elaine gasped softly. "Roden, is this not getting very personal? Should you not send them out of here?"

  "Nay, personal is the best sort of argument," Eldon replied gleefully, grinning when Colin nodded in vigorous agreement. "Worry not, Elaine."

  Realizing that his temper was rising,

  Tavis fought to rein it in. "I do not want to argue with you."

  That was not good news to Storm. "And I do not wish to talk to ye. Not at all."

  "Weel ye will, bitch, and ye will heed what I say." Tavis gave up trying to keep a hold on his temper.

  "Oh, aye, and well do you know bitches since ye have no doubt come from the arms of the greatest one in all of Scotland. Well, if ye have any pretty lies ye wish to spout, I am sure Kate will listen well."

  " 'Od's wounds, woman, I havenae seen Kate since ye and your brother threatened to skewer her."

  "She called Storm a whore," murmured Colin when Roden sent his eldest son a reproachful look.

  "Oh, that makes a difference." Roden smiled at Andrew. "Has he been bedding this Katerine?"

  "Nay," Colin replied as Storm dramatically expressed her regrets concerning Katerine MacBroth's continued good health. "I think Storm caught him making his first effort. She was only about for a fortnight. The lad's had no other woman since he set eyes on Storm that day. I would swear to it."

  "If ye had listened instead o' hurling dirks," Tavis began as he followed her retreat to a window.

  "I did not want to listen to ye. I do not want to listen to ye. I listened one too many times. 'Tis all empty words and useless promises." She stared out the window, saying softly, "When I craved your voice it was silent. The second time I was prepared to listen, hoping for even empty words, ye had your mouth otherwise occupied."

  Tavis paled slightly. That was a piece of news that Roden had not put into his letter, believing it too cruel to let Tavis know that he had missed yet another chance. Nor had he told Tavis that it was more his choice of wench than his wenching, but Tavis had begun to see that for himself. To know that one kiss that he had had to work at to enjoy had brought him yet another four months of hell, had kept him from Storm's side when she had borne their children and had caused him to miss their birth, tore at his insides. He wondered if any man had paid so dearly for such a minor thing. The knowledge did very little for his tenuous grasp on control.

  Whatever he might have answered was lost as their son set up a wail. It mattered little to the baby what important subjects were being discussed. He was hungry. His cry started his sister's face to crumbling as she recalled how long it had been since she had eaten.

  Sighing, Storm went to collect Taran from his uncle, Sholto, who looked startled at the boy's volume. Elaine collected Aingeal and followed Storm out of the hall, wondering what would happen next. Storm was simply glad for the diversion and the chance to elude Tavis.

  "Are you going to just stand there like a pile of cow droppings?"

  Glaring at his father-in-law, Tavis snapped, "She has to feed the bairns."

  "I am sure she will reveal naught that you are unfamiliar with," Roden said dryly. "Unless you are a complete fool, as I begin to suspect, you will realize that it will occur to her that her chambers, securely locked, are a good place to be if she does not want to hear you any longer."

  For a moment Tavis stood torn between defending himself against Roden's softly spoken insult and following the man's advice. "I can see where she gets it from," he growled, and strode out of the hall.

  "What do ye think his chances are?" asked Sholto after Tavis had gone.

  "Storm cannot avoid him with a babe at her breast, and she will try to stay calm since she will be holding a babe. That gives him a good bit of an edge." Eldon grinned. "Then, too, soon as her arms are empty of child, he can jump her. When it comes to wives if all else fails, seduce them." He raised his tankard along with the other laughing men. " 'Twill be a while ere we see those two again."

  Seduce was a mild word for what Tavis wanted to do when he saw Storm with Taran at her breast. He shut the door after Elaine's retreating figure and tried not to lunge at his wife. For an instant he was fiercely jealous of his son, whose small hands touched that ivory fullness, whose mouth worked greedily at the nipple and whose plump little body was held so lovingly in slim arms, all of which Tavis ached for. Telling himself not to be absurd, he forced his eyes to meet hers and his mind to think of other things.

  The fire was still in his eyes, however, and Storm, recognizing it, felt her body flare in response, which did not please her at all. "Do ye not recognize when a battle is lost, MacLagan?"

  "Is it lost? I prefer to think not. Listen to me first, little one. It cannae hurt."

  Her gaze fell to her son's head and stayed there. She did not want to listen, but she knew she was caught. Tavis faltered briefly, unsure of how to begin. Taking a deep breath, he simply plunged in.

  "I kenned as soon as ye set off after the battle that I had made a verra great mistake. But think, Storm, your father had just aided us in saving our keep no matter what his reasons. Was I to say all that had gone atween us when the blood lust o' battle still flowed hot through all o' us? The blood o' both our families would soon have stained the ground."

  "Ye would have me believe ye acted out of noble reasons?" she queried in soft sarcasm.

  "Nay, though 'twas part of what held me silent. I will be honest, Storm. I wanted ye in my bed, didnae want ye to leave it, but I didnae ken that I wanted any more than that. Thinking that, I couldnae speak to Eldon. Ye cannae ask a man to let ye use his daughter, his only daughter and firstborn child, as your mistress. I didnae ken what I wanted until ye were gone and then, e'en then, 'twas awhile ere it was verra clear."

  "Yet ye sent me nary a word." She put a drowsy Taran in the cradle and began to feed Aingeal.

  "What I wanted didnae change anything as I saw it. Ye were still Eldon and still English. E'en had he kenned we had been lovers, your father would nay welcome my suit. An English Marcher lord doesnae wed his only daughter to a Scot, a border reiver, be he of equal rank or nay. Ye cannae fault me for thinking that."

  S
he stared down at Aingeal as she thought over his words. It all seemed very logical. Tavis said nothing, letting her think for a time, for he knew the strength of that particular reasoning. It was all the rest of his actions that would be harder to explain.

  "Ye did not grieve long, though, did ye, Tavis."

  "I did, lass. From the time ye rode off with your kin until ye appeared to tell me I would soon be a father, I was ill tempered and soddened with drink near all the time. I cursed ye for leaving, then cursed myself for letting ye go. At times I thought ye should come to me while other times I wanted to besiege Hagaleah to get ye back. I hated ye one instant and unmanned myself with the wanting of ye the next, yet kenning that it was all over for us."

  Storm stood up, placed Aingeal in the cradle and, with her back toward Tavis, gently washed her breasts. "And so ye decided to bury this grief in the woman who nearly saw to my death at Sir Hugh's hands. Aye, and your babe's too."

  "Nay, Storm." He moved to stand before her when she sat upon the bed to relace her bodice. "Kate had come to Caraidland but a fortnight ere ye did. She was all that was sweet and understanding."

  "I am sure she was," Storm snapped. "Quite prepared to soothe your much-battered soul, I wager."

  "Aye, but I took little notice of it until that day, curse my luck." Storm had abruptly halted her relacing to stare at him, and he fought to ignore the exposed swell of her exquisite breasts. "I spent far too many nights sleeping with the memory of something sweet I thought lost to me forever. Then, too, I was in one of my moods o' hating ye, cursing ye for putting me through such a hell. God's wounds, Storm. I ached for ye, lay awake nights twisting with it. I lived with that ache for three months. Dreams couldnae ease that."

  The tone of his voice as well as the fact that he was describing a hell she knew intimately held Storm enthralled. Even so, a cold tongue of fear curled around her insides, fear that he would soon reveal that he had made use of the very available Kate. Understand she might, but that understanding would not lessen the blow.