Highland Treasure

by Mary McCall

  "Best pick me up, or I might slide to the floor. I never would have gotten this far if not for my favorite game."

  "You shouldn't have left the bed,” he gently chided, lifting her legs and cradling her in his arms.

  "I feared you would send Freya for your things and not come back.” Her voice sounded raspy.

  "I doubt if I could have stayed away."

  She gave him a fatigued smile. “We have a cursed problem, MacPherson. Most of your clan can bloody well see more than The MacFury's knees."

  "To bed, Lady MacPherson.” Leonce started up the stairs.

  "Only if you promise to cuddle."

  He growled in her ear. Her giggle turned into a coughing spasm that sapped her energy. She fell asleep before he lowered her onto their bed.

  * * * *

  After covering her with the linens and pelts, Leonce leaned over and tenderly kissed her lips.

  "I love you, Angelaspera. You'll always be my greatest treasure. I promise I'll never drop you again."

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  Chapter Forty-Four

  * * * *

  A small hand petted Leonce's chest, waking him. He glanced at Hope. She lay upon her side with her head nestled on his shoulder. Small wisps of air caressed his chest. One of her legs draped over his, and her huge belly wedged against his side. Her hand stroked him again, and he smiled at her sleeping affection.

  An abrupt movement in her belly massaged his waist. He splayed his hand over the active spot, awed by the life growing inside her. A life he had planted there, born of their love. A life that had almost died because of his stupidity. A life still at risk.

  "No need to frown. The babe is just hungry."

  Leonce found Hope's tender gaze upon him. He opened his mouth, but she moved her fingers over his lips.

  "We do need to talk, Leonce, but I have a need for sustenance. Think you might be patient with me?"

  A wheeze underscored her raspy words. He stared at her drawn, pale face and the circles under her eyes. “Aye, love. You've lost too much flesh."

  He kissed her mouth, then got out of bed, donned his plaid, and left.

  Hope glanced around the chamber and noticed the linen draped over the mantel. Thank the Good Lord. Her chest felt cursed tight and needed vapors.

  She struggled around her girth, rolling to a sitting position on the side of the bed as the exertion provoked a coughing fit and a feeling of dizziness within her.

  Leonce entered with a tray and caught her before she teetered off the bed. “Damn it, Hope! Are you trying to kill yourself after all?"

  * * * *

  Leonce caught Hope by her upper arms. She shook her head, holding a clutched fist against her throat. Her other arm was wrapped around her immense belly.

  "Vapors...need...cannot bre...” She sagged against him, gasping. Bloody phlegm flecked her lower lip.

  Leonce rubbed her back. “We used all the leaves you gave Mauri."

  "Case...my pouch...” Her wheezing rose in pitch, and her voice faded.

  Leonce carried her to the hearth and couched her upon the pelts still piled there. He draped a plaid around her, tossed another log on the fire, and stoked the flames to a crackling blaze. Then he retrieved her pouch, pulled out the case, and set it on the floor beside her. “I must get water for the vapors."

  Hope nodded. Her coughing ceased, but her eyes watered and her breath rattled against the wheeze. He grabbed an empty pot and left.

  Returning quickly, Leonce placed an already steaming pot near the hearth and tented the linen around them. Squatting beside Hope, he opened the case. “Can you show me what leaves make the vapors?"

  Rummaging through the small bags, jars and linen sleeves with tremulous hands, she pulled out the leaves. “Break...five..."

  "Shh, love. I watched Mauri.” Leonce broke the leaves into the steamy water and then retrieved the tray he'd brought in earlier and placed it on the floor near the pallet. After securing the tent so vapors couldn't escape, he sat behind Hope with a leg extended on each side of her. He pulled her back so she rested against his chest. The eye-stinging fumes soon surrounded them. Hope had another coughing episode. Leonce experienced some relief when she relaxed against him and breathed more easily.

  He rubbed his jaw against her cheek. “Your skin feels fevered. Do you need the potion?"

  "That cursed brew tastes bad,” she rasped, scrunching her nose. “Need the vapors for the rest of the day."

  "'Tis not what I asked."

  Hope expelled a conceding groan. “Aye, I need it, but after I eat."

  Leonce picked up broth from the tray and held the bowl in front of her, preparing to spoon it into her mouth.

  She glared at the offering. “I'm starving. What is that for?"

  "Would you prefer thinned gruel?"

  "Nay—a huge trencher filled with roast, turnips, carrots, leeks and peas with thick gravy. And brose—I want a big bowl of brose with extra honey."

  He chuckled. “You would toss it up."

  "Aye.” Hope sighed. “But ‘twould bloody well be worth it."

  Leonce raised the spoon to her mouth. “Open up."

  After consuming half of the warm liquid, she shook her head. “I cannot swallow any more. At least not if I'm going to drink that cursed potion."

  "You can try again later.” He set the bowl aside.

  "Aye, with some milk for the babe,” she said, trying to suppress a yawn.

  After Hope drank the potion, she relaxed against Leonce and fell into an exhausted slumber. The whole scene repeated itself every few hours during the day.

  Late in the evening, after her broth and potion, Hope leaned against Leonce and stared into the fire. She pulled his hands over her belly and rested hers atop them. “I was careful not to take risks with our babe inside me. All my hunting was with a bow, and I did not carry heavy branches for fires.

  "When I found the green ribbon, I was so happy that my extra sense failed me. I didn't see the boar until ‘twas almost upon me. I had to face the cursed creature head-on with my whinger and tripped over that trap.” She sighed and petted his hands. “Rage came upon me. It convinced me that you were luring me and hunting me at the same time. ‘Twas my cursed rage that left the boar on the front steps. Later I calmed down and knew you would never hunt me, especially with traps. But I couldn't take the boar back. You said you realized after you left that I hadn't betrayed you, and you meant it."

  "Aye, love, I meant it. And I cannot undo striking you and all the things I said.” His tone held a self-deprecating quality.

  She squeezed his hands. “You didn't mean to hit me. You were knocking my hand from your arm. Even in your rage, you would never harm my body on purpose, but I think heartaches hurt worse. We both have cursed bad tempers.” She leaned to one side and turned her head to look at him. “Think we can make a pact?"

  "What?” He adjusted his arm to better support her.

  "If either of us gets into a rage, we'll not go near each other until we calm down. I cannot go through this again, and I think you cannot either.” She reached up and stroked the worry lines on his brow.

  He seized her wrist and kissed her palm. “'Twill put me in a rage if you disappear, and I have to worry."

  "Could send a yellow ribbon to caution you, and you could do the same."

  He stared at her for a moment and nodded. “'Tis a good plan, and you're right. I never want to go through this again."

  "Are my friends all right?” She turned back to face the fire.

  He lowered his chin on top of her head and resettled his hands on her belly. “Harry took over the hearth in the hall and deigns to share it with us lesser mortals. Diable is in a shelter Darach and Courageous put up against the back of the keep. They keep a fire going to warm him. The goat is there too."

  Hope smiled. “Her name is Matilda, and she's a Fraser goat."

  "Not anymore. When Ian learned you took her, he said he was glad to know Cassie's friend wou
ldn't starve and to consider her a gift. She is my lady's friend now."

  "Think she might give me some milk for our babe?” She placed his hand over a flutter in her belly, so he could feel the wonder with her.

  He kissed her temple and played with the babe by massaging the spot. “Think you can keep it down?"

  "Aye, I must drink milk every day and eat meat. I also need to stay up longer and walk to increase my strength afore the babe comes next month. If not, I'll be too weak for the birthing."

  "I'll not let you overdo."

  "You would bloody well coop me up again if I allow it,” she grumbled and pushed out her lower lip.

  Knowing her irritation sprang from fatigue, he smiled against her hair. “Hope, I'm glad you're back."

  "Me too.” She smiled and closed her eyes.

  "You could give lessons on vengeance. The blood on the heather was a damn good touch."

  "I thought so. Did you know I killed my first bear?” she asked smugly.

  "You what!” A vision of Hope being attacked by a bear flitted through his mind. He released his breath on a grunt. Now wasn't the time to tell her that he intended to lock her up after she recovered.

  "Decided not to bait anymore. It took three arrows.” She sighed. “Leonce, do you forgive yourself?"

  "I doubt I ever shall."

  Hope turned and cupped his jaw with her palm. “We both fell into the sleep of a cursed rage. You're a good chieftain, Leonce, and your heart is my most precious treasure. You do not have to spend the rest of your life trying to make me think you're worthy. I know you are. Forgive us both. I do."

  What had he done to deserve her? She had the most wonderful heart. He leaned over and kissed her lips, conveying without words the love she stirred in his soul. Breaking the contact, he stared into her lambent eyes. “Why did you not come home after you realized I wasn't hunting you?"

  Hope lowered her gaze to his chin. “I felt guilty over leaving the boar, and then it rained."

  "Rain kept you away?"

  "You have a cursed cold climate up here.” She leaned back against his chest and gazed at the flames. “I caught a chill and never could overcome it. The next thing I knew, it snowed. I had to send for you. Had not planned to do that for another moon."

  "You were planning to come home then?"

  "Just long enough to birth the babe. Think I would let our child grow into a cursed heathen? I knew you would care for him even if you didn't want me."

  He tightened his embrace and kissed her temple. “What would I do without you, my Angelaspera?"

  "'Twould be cursed boring.” Hope yawned and petted his hand.

  "Do you want to sleep afore the fire, or do you want me to pull the linen up and warm the chamber so you can sleep in bed?"

  "Where are you going to be?"

  "Wherever my heart is.” He moved one of his hands over her heart.

  She smiled. “Warm the chamber. My rump will be in dire agony if I do not get off it soon. And this lioness could use some cuddling.” An impish gleam appeared in her eyes. “Unless cuddling would torture the lion. ‘Tis too cursed cold for raiding."

  Leonce stood, picked her up, and walked toward the bed. “You just wait until spring, wife. You'll not be so sassy then."

  "What happens come spring?” she asked suspiciously.

  "A new game.” He winked at her. “'Tis called heathen-bait."

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  Chapter Forty-Five

  * * * *

  Three days later, Leonce carried Hope down to the hall after a loud discussion over the advisability of her leaving the chamber at all. He capitulated to her demanding request after Aonghus knocked on the door and asked if he was trying to make the lass leave again. Relieved to leave her confines, Hope didn't balk at the four layers of blankets Leonce insisted she wear over her gown, though he appeared irritated when the additional pelts he put on her lap kept mysteriously falling to the floor.

  Harry perched on the arm of her chair. Bertie arrived and couldn't stop talking. Hope was so absorbed by the chatter from her son that she was startled when a smacking kiss from Diable landed on her cheek. Greeting her beauty, she smiled her gratitude to Leonce for allowing this visitor in the hall. Over the next hour, she felt increasingly fatigued, but pasted on a smile and greeted the MacPhersons who came expressing their joy over her return and who wanted reassurance that she was recovering. Leonce, noticing the strain around her eyes, scooped her up and carried her back to bed.

  Under his loving and overzealous care, Hope regained enough strength to eat solid foods and walk short distances without feeling as if her lungs would burst. The coughing spasms ceased. Though she still had a long way to go before she would be strong enough for the birthing, the soft glow of impending motherhood hovered about her.

  Hope noticed that the better she felt, the worse Leonce looked. His guarding of her every move increased to a determined vigilance. She realized his protective male instincts were responsible, and he wouldn't curb them until his bairn was safely delivered.

  Six mornings after her return, Hope sat by the hearth and watched while Aonghus, Freya, Bertie and Courageous conversed and played sticks and ashes. Leonce had gone to feed Diable and Matilda and add wood to their fire. Hope gazed into the flames and enjoyed the by-play between her friends. A thunderous pounding on all sides of her belly caught her off guard.

  "Zounds!” Her eyes widened, and her hands went to her abdomen.

  Talk ceased, and Freya rushed to her side. “Are you unwell, milady?"

  "Nay. The babe decided to play and startled me.” Hope smiled. “Must be a good sign, for he has more strength than me."

  Her words reassured everyone. They returned to their conversation and game. Hope frowned, remembering something old Elda once said. Moving her hands over her swollen belly, pressing inward, she found the babe's head. The play continued inside her. She kept moving her other hand until she found what she sought. Her chin dropped. Zounds! No wonder she appeared so big-bellied! ‘Twas not because she had lost so much flesh that her girth was more apparent. Good Lord in heaven, she was having a litter!

  Bloody rot, she couldn't tell Leonce. He was having trouble with one babe. Two would terrify him. Twins terrified her too. Her recent illness made having one child risky, but two could be lethal—for her and the babes. The clan midwife was a nice woman new to the job and used to routine births. Twins could come early or far apart and need any number of things. What if she died and the midwife didn't know how to properly care for the babes? Cassie knew some things, but not enough. Still, Hope could trust her friend to follow her wishes. The midwife might not. Cassie was her only chance. How could she get Leonce out of the way so she could send a message to The Fraser?

  Hope cleared her throat. “I'm concerned for Leonce, Aonghus. He frets overmuch about me and could use a diversion."

  "Aye, lass.” Twinkles appeared in his eyes. “But I doubt anything short of an avalanche falling on a clansman could get him away from you afore the birthing."

  "'Tis a cursed big worry,” Hope persisted.

  "Could m-make one,” Courageous suggested.

  Aonghus peered at the hunchback. “What's that, lad?"

  "M-ma h-h-hut—roof weak."

  "Nay, Courageous.” Hope shook her head. “My thanks, but ‘tis too dangerous."

  "Could p-p-put on m-more plaids, then d-d-d-do.” His eyes grew, pleading to let him help.

  "Nay—"

  "'Twould work, lad!” Aonghus slapped his knee and sprang from his seat like a man half his age. “I always knew you weren't simple. Bertie, you come too so you can bring the news to the chieftain after we're ready for him."

  "Aonghus, nay. I'll not have Courageous harmed."

  "Don't fash, lass.” The elder slipped on his jerkin. “I'll make sure he is bundled warm for the few hours ‘twill take to get him out."

  Freya rolled her eyes and threw up her hands. “Don't try stopping him, milady. The old co
ot is a stubborn clod. ‘Tis the one thing I haven't doubted since I first met him."

  "Ah, Freya, you've wounded the old coot.” Aonghus mockingly placed a hand over his heart.

  "Get on with you.” Freya collected their tankards on a tray. “I'll make sure we've plenty of lamb's wool and stew for the nooning meal to warm you."

  As the men went to create an avalanche, and Freya left for the buttery, Hope heaved her weight out of the chair. “Come, Harry. I have a ribbon for you to deliver."

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  Chapter Forty-Six

  * * * *

  Ian Fraser was furious. Word hadn't reached his clan of Hope's return, and he set out expecting to find her half frozen, not sitting before a fire in the MacPherson keep.

  "I thought ‘twas considered cruel to send red without need? Cass is frantic!” he bellowed.

  "'Twas a need, Fraser.” Hope hefted her portly frame from her seat and turned toward him. He appeared shocked by her rounding belly. “If you will join me, I have some whisky to warm you. Then I'll explain."

  Ian crossed the hall, stood with his back to the blaze, and scowled. “I am waiting for the explanation."

  "Would you—"

  "Nay. The explanation.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest.

  Hope noted Freya hovering near the screen. “Freya, please leave us?"

  The older woman glared at Ian. “I don't think the chieftain will like—"

  "Please leave The MacPherson to me and do as I ask."

  Freya harrumphed, grabbed up a shawl, and left.

  Hope faced Ian. “I have noticed you call my husband Leonce, and he calls you Ian. He doesn't do this with other chieftains. Have you been friends long?"

  "Long enough."

  "Do you consider him a loyal friend?"

  "Loyal enough,” he clipped out.

  Bloody rot, he wasn't making this easy. Hope suddenly felt unsure and looked away. “Long enough and loyal enough for you to aid his wife even though you dislike her?"

  "His wife does not appear to need my help."

  She glanced into his hard eyes, turned away, and raised a hand to her brow. “I apologize, Fraser. I'll try finding someone else."