by Lynsay Sands
The end came quickly, almost too quickly. Unused to such punishment, Scymynd staggered. For one brief moment, Scymynd’s chest was unprotected, his dagger on the ground. Cathal sank his dagger deep into Scymynd’s chest, so weak himself that he barely kept himself from falling on top of the man he had just killed. Sprawling on his back beside Scymynd, Cathal became all too aware of his injuries. He began to fear that his blood loss was too severe. Then a young man named Tomand knelt by his side and offered his neck, then another man, and another.
“What are they doing?” asked Bridget as she tried to see between her two protectors only to discover they had pressed their shoulders together and effectively closed her window.
“Cathal is verra weak, lass,” Jankyn said quietly. “Nay, dinnae look. If naught else, there are so many of his brethren offering him what he needs to recover ye willnae be able to see him.”
Duncan took the place of one of Bridget’s protectors when the young man moved away. “Weel, mayhap I didnae ken everything about the MacNachtons,” he murmured. He looked at Bridget. “I will take ye back to Dunsmuir, if ye want.”
“She stays here,” snarled Jankyn.
“Tis her choice, lad, so tuck away the teeth.”
It appeared that Duncan was not very troubled by what he had just witnessed, or suprised. Bridget wondered where and how he had learned about the MacNachtons before he had come to Cambrun. “I dinnae want to leave, Duncan,” she said, and kissed his cheek, “but thank ye for the offer.”
“Are ye sure, lass? I am nay sure ye will e’er be fully accepted by these people. The way they talked about anyone who wasnae one of them reveals a dangerous arrogance.”
“I think Scymynd was the worst of them, Duncan. He is the one who did most of the talking. I ken that it will be a long time ere I am accepted, but, this is my bairn’s home, the home of his father, the home of his people. And, aye, for all that ye could find something wrong with Cambrun and its people, I could find something right.” She winked at her brother. “Weel, except, perhaps, for Jankyn.”
He grinned over Jankyn’s muttered curses, then grew serious again as he closely studied Bridget’s face. “And whate’er I might say is wrong with the laird? Ye will find something right to counter it?”
“Aye, or hit ye about the head with a stick.”
“Ah, I thought it might be like that.”
She leaned very close to him and whispered in his ear, “I am quite stupidly in love with him.”
“MacNachtons have verra keen hearing, ye ken,” drawled Jankyn.
“One particular MacNachton had best be feeling verra deaf at the moment, or verra forgetful,” Bridget said, fighting the urge to smile at the face Jankyn pulled before he left her alone with her brother. “I have some good friends here, Duncan. When ye have good friends, ye dinnae need quite so many, do ye.”
“Verra wise, lass,” said Agnes as she came to stand beside her. “I do hope ye will tolerate one or two more. Do ye ken, the way ye spoke to Scymynd, the things ye said, opened many an eye. Scymynd told a good tale, but, for all its pride and glory, it was an empty one. Now, I am a healer, ye ken, e’en though my hours be strange,” she briefly grinned revealing very sharp, and very strong teeth. “Howbeit, I would be most honored if ye would allow me to be your midwife. Ye can ask Mora about me. I was at David’s birth.”
“Thank ye, that would be most kind. I confess, I have been much taken up with trying to figure out how and when to tell Cathal, that I have given no thought to the birth itself.”
“Best ye tell her everything, lass. Tis always best if the midwife is warned,” said Duncan.
“Is there a history of birthing troubles in the family?” asked Agnes.
“Nay,” replied Bridget. “We are disgustingly fertile, have disgusting ease in the birthing, and, weel, we are verra apt to have more than one.” She was a little startled by the wide grin Agnes gave her.
“Och, lass, I will but see that as a double blessing, but I think ’tis something we best keep to ourselves. I have a feeling the laird will have enough difficulty adjusting to the thought of one, as will many another here. Aye, let it be a surprise.” She patted Bridget’s hand and walked away humming softly.
Before Bridget could wonder long on that, however, Cathal approached her. She quickly threw herself into his arms, breathing a sigh of relief over the strength she could feel in his embrace. Hearing the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear was as sweet to her as any music she had ever heard.
“Are ye weel, sweetling?” He asked as he slipped his hand beneath her chin and turned her face up to his. “Are ye hurt?”
“I am weel and I am unhurt,” she reassured him.
He rested his forehead against hers. “Are ye sure, lass?” he whispered.
“Verra sure,” she whispered back. “I was sure after the first time something, er, went missing, but waited just a wee bit longer. Then each time I tried to prepare something special so I could tell ye, it all went wrong. I had wanted us to have a wee celebration, ye ken.”
“Weel, we are about to have us a grand one, if ye arenae too weary.”
“Och, nay. I do think I had best go and clean up and all.”
“I will take her back to her room,” offered Duncan. “The others will be wanting to see that she is all right.”
Cathal nodded and watched Duncan escort his sister away. He grinned when he heard her joyous screech and knew Duncan had told her that Nan had survived. A soft touch on his arm drew his attention and he smiled down at Agnes.
“Your lass has agreed to let me be the midwife, if that sits weel with ye, laird,” she said.
“It sits verra weel, Agnes,” he replied and kissed her cheek. “I fear it will be a while ere I dare believe it. I ne’er expected it to happen so quickly.”
Agnes grinned. “Weel, the lass did tell ye she was fertile.”
“Aye, she did at that.” He looked around at the Purebloods still lingering in the cavern. “I think the trouble has ended, too.”
“Aye, lad. Your lass has a clever tongue and she had already turned a few minds by the time ye arrived.” When Cathal quirked one brow at her, she quickly told him all Bridget had said to Scymynd and nodded at his look of pride and astonishment. “Twas the pure truth, too, and that is hard to fight, aye?”
“Aye, Agnes, verra hard to fight. I think God smiled on me a wee bit when He set her down within my grasp.”
“Och, aye, lad, He did indeed. Now, get ye back up the stairs and start preparing for this grand celebration. I expect a lot of fine food and plenty of wine. I am thinking there will be a lot of toasts drunk to our future. Tis looking verra bright indeed, isnae it?”
“Aye, Agnes, verra bright indeed.”
Thirteen
Cathal looked around his great hall, crossed his arms over his chest and smiled. It was a grand celebration. Scymynd was dead, the clan was united again except for one or two discontents whom no one paid any heed to, and he was going to be a father. He could understand Bridget’s disappointment that such news had been told in such a way, even shared it some, but that news had changed everything. Scymynd’s support had faded away. Even most of the ones who had stood firmly by Scymynd had deserted him in the end, appalled that he would even speak of harming a woman carrying a child, let alone attempt to murder her. They had suddenly begun questioning everything he had said or done. There also seemed to be some who saw the speed with which he had bred a child on his new Outsider wife as a sign that he was right. Like it or not, change was necessary if they were to survive. Many another had heard and heeded all that Bridget had said to Scymynd which had, in many ways, added a great deal of weight to his own warnings. Leave it to a woman to point out that the greatest weapon your enemies have is that they can just keep making more of themselves.
He looked toward where Bridget’s three brothers were encircled by half a dozen Pureblood women and grimaced. They probably hoped the Callan men would prove as fertile as the Callan women. I
f they did, there might well be a few bastards born at Cambrun in the spring. He doubted marriage was on the minds of any one of them and Duncan was very careful concerning the bloodlines of all who thought to join with the Callans through marriage. The man had accepted his marriage to Bridget, but Cathal was still not certain why, except that the marriage had been consummated. And, of course, there was a child on the way.
If he did not stop smiling, people would think he was drunk or had lost his wits, he mused, but he could not seem to stop. Just the thought of Bridget carrying his child had him grinning like an idiot. Matters were not completely settled between him and his wife yet, but even that thought could not dim his joy.
“I am thinking it might be time for me to marry,” said Jankyn as he stepped up beside Cathal.
“Ye? Have ye finally settled upon one of your harem?”
“I dinnae have a harem,” objected Jankyn. “Nay, I think I am finally starting to age. I found a grey hair.”
Cathal looked at Jankyn’s thick black hair, then caught the hint of a blush upon Jankyn’s cheeks. “Ah. Not there.”
“Nay. Not there.”
“Mayhap ye are only partly aging.” Cathal had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing when Jankyn cast a horrified glance at his groin. “So, ye think ye are getting older and wish to have a loving companion.” He grew serious. “Best ye choose carefully, Jankyn. If nay a Pureblood, then ye will outlive your mate for many years. Recall what that did to my father. Worse, I believe he began to fear that he would outlive me as weel. Ye do have a wee touch of Outsider in your blood, but it doesnae seem to have changed ye from the Pureblood as far as years to live is concerned.”
“So I thought, but I begin to wonder. I am going through my bloodlines. Och, I am nay like ye, but it begins to look as if I am nay a Pureblood, either. Once the other blood gets into your lineage it doesnae leave.” He shrugged. “I still have weeks of writings and lineage charts to go through, however.”
“Does it bother ye? One way or t’other, I mean.”
“Only in that, if I have been told I am something I am not, a Pureblood, I may have wasted years I didnae have to waste.”
“Ah, weel, take heart. E’en if ye are much akin to me, ye still have many years left. Many more than the lifetime of many of the Outsiders.” He caught Jankyn staring at Efrica Callan who was laughing at something Bridget said. “She is only sixteen years of age, Cousin.”
“I ken it. I was just wondering if she purrs.” He exchanged a brief grin with Cathal before wandering off into the crowd.
Cathal decided it was time to find his wife. He had in mind a more private celebration. When Duncan stepped into his path, he grimaced. The man had said nothing since the battle with Scymynd, but he had a feeling that reprieve was over.
“Aye, I am going to ask ye about that,” Duncan drawled and smiled. “I but need to ken that ’tis as Bridget says, that ye dinnae do that all the time, dinnae need a human’s blood to survive.”
“She told ye true. E’en after the fight, I could have had an animal’s blood and it would have helped a wee bit, kept my blood loss from inflicting me with a fatal weakness. Tisnae the same, as ye can see. And, as ye saw, it wasnae asked for, wasnae just taken, it was offered. Unless ’tis an enemy in battle or murdering thieves such as those who set upon Bridget, ’tis always only at invitation and ne’er done to harm or kill. The laws were set down many years ago and anyone of us who breaks them, weel, let us just say that the punishment befits the crime.”
“But the hunger is there.”
“Aye and nay. I willnae be feeding on Bridget or any of my new kinsmen. Blooded wine, near raw meat, and such as that serves as weel.”
“Tisnae my way and I cannae say I am comfortable with it, but who can say what is right?”
“I suspicion there are a few things ye try hard to keep under control.”
“Och, aye. I dinnae purr. Tis too cursed unmonly,” he drawled as he walked away.
Cathal laughed and continued on his way to collect his wife. He smiled at Efrica as he stepped up next to Bridget and slipped his arm around her waist. Efrica was definitely going to give Duncan grey hair, he mused.
“I suppose ye are intending to take her away,” said Efrica.
“Aye,” he replied. “I am. Ye can see her on the morrow.”
“Ah, there ye are, my bonnie child,” said Agnes as she walked up and slipped an arm around Efrica’s slim shoulders. “Ye promised to show me that chess move ye used to so soundly defeat Marcus. I could use a few clever tricks. Twould be pleasant to win now and again.”
Bridget watched Agnes listen most intently to Efrica’s chatter, her pale white hand gently stroking her sister’s hair or touching her cheek. “Children have been missed, havenae they?”
“Och, aye,” agreed Cathal as he led her out of the great hall. “E’en at our worst, in the days when we rode through the night and caused far too many deaths, a child was always treasured, protected. I was spoiled. So was David. It has been so long since a child was born to the Purebloods that I think many of them had convinced themselves it didnae matter. And, they could barely remember what it was like to have one about.”
“Tis sad. Tis as if that bloodline can nay longer renew itself.”
“Aye, that is sad, but it can continue in others. One just has to accept that it must be mixed with others. I believe that acceptance is already there in some of the Purebloods and coming in others.”
Once inside the bedchamber, Cathal moved to stir up the fire. It was time, he decided. He had to take the chance and tell her what he needed to tell. It was a night for endings and beginnings. He felt sure that Bridget would not reject him for wanting the mating, even if she did not wish to participate. A soft smile touched his face when he turned to find she had slipped behind the privacy screen, her gown already crookedly draped over the top.
“I need to ask ye something, wife,” he began. “I suspect I will have to explain a few things as weel. I didnae think I would as I am only half, half Outsider, half Pureblood, but I find I must.”
Bridget felt her heart skip as she tugged on her night shift, but she stayed behind the screen. It was possible Cathal would find it easier to speak if he did not have to look her in the face. She knew she would.
“Tis about the mating, aye?” she asked.
“Aye. Who told ye about that?”
“Mora. She noticed I didnae have the mark.”
“Ah. Weel, that might make it easier. Did she tell ye what happens?”
“Aye. Instead of bellowing in my ear at a certain point in our lovemaking, or burying your face in the pillow, ye will bite me on the neck and, weel, have a wee sip.”
Cathal reached around the screen and tugged her out. “Bellow in your ear?”
“Loud enough to make my ears ring.”
He grinned briefly, then took a deep breath and asked, “So? Are ye willing? Dinnae say aye unless ye are absolutely sure.”
“Cathal, I have kenned about it for weeks. I was going to try to get ye to tell me about it when Edmee attacked. Again tonight, weel, whilst we dined in the room at midday. I am nay sure I understand how it all works, but ye need it to feel truly mated, aye?”
“Aye, and I dinnae understand it, either. It just is.”
“And ’tis only the once. Ye do it, and that need is gone.”
“Exactly. And, after what happened today, I have nay fear at all that it will be any more than a verra wee sip indeed, nay matter how sweet ye taste.” He picked her up and carried her to the bed. “And, ere ye ask, nay, it willnae hurt the child. In truth, this is a perfect night for this.”
“Because ye have already had some,” she said quietly as he shed his clothes.
“Aye.” He sprawled on the bed beside her and tugged off her night shift. “I plan to have ye so wild with desire ye will probably miss the whole thing.”
Within moments she began to think he would easily live up to his promise. He left
no part of her untouched or un-tasted. Bridget was panting his name by the time he joined their bodies. She cried out with her release, and heard herself babbling all manner of things. She felt him tense within her arms, and then felt a sharp pain on her neck even as his seed warmed her womb. To her utter astonishment, she felt her barely ebbing passion race to the heights again. She clung to him as she felt herself shatter for a second time and had the brief, sinking feeling that she had just said things she had not intended to all over again.
It was several long moments before she gained the strength to open her eyes. The way he was looking at her as he gently brushed the hair from her face made her heart race. Bridget smiled faintly, a little disappointed that he was not whispering sweet words of love.
“Ye love me, lass,” he said, and grinned at her wide eyed look. “Aye, ye do. Ye were screeching it there at the end. Twice.”
So that was what she had said, she mused. “Aye, I do. I have for a long time. Why do ye think I said aye?”
“Ye wed me because ye loved me?” he asked in surprise.
“Aye, but ye dinnae have to fear that I will pester ye for the same. I understand ’tis different for men.”
“Lass, I will confess that I was nay so quick as ye to see the truth, but I do love ye. I have for a while. I have been trying to think of ways to make ye love me.” He laughed softly when she threw herself into his arms. “In truth, since ye told me ye loved me just as I was about to bite ye, I cannae be sure which has me feeling most bound to ye. I may have e’en been mistaking a need for those words for the need for the mating.”
“Weel, it doesnae matter. The need is gone, aye.”
“Completely. Ah, love, ye have given me so much. Passion, laughter,” he slid his hand down to her stomach, “the future.”