Lachlan nodded glumly and watched his sister walk across the room. “Sorcha, you will look after her?” he blurted. She turned, smiled and nodded, and then disappeared into the bedroom, leaving Lachlan sitting alone.
He hated it. The waiting, the not knowing, with every scream that he heard through the closed door Lachlan held his breath-caught in a paradox of hope and fear. So man things might go wrong, and yet, if everything went right, then couldn’t imagine ever feeling happier.
It was nearly five hours after Sorcha had placed Lachlan in his chair when it happened. He heard Muira scream again, this time for longer and louder than she had done before, and then, a second or two later, Lachlan heard the most beautiful sound that he’d ever imagined – a baby crying.
He jumped up immediately, and then, permission or not, marched towards his bedroom door. It swung open before he reached it, however, Bridghe was standing in the doorway, looking exhausted and dishevelled, but beaming with joy. The smile on his sister’s face evaporated any trace of fear that had remained with Lachlan; they had to be all right, both of them, Muira and the baby. Bridghe wouldn’t be beaming in such a manner if anything had gone wrong.
“You can come in now,” she grinned, standing on her tiptoes to pop a sisterly kiss on his cheek. “Come and meet your daughter,” she said, practically bouncing with excitement. She caught hold of his hands and tugged him inside the bedroom.
Lachlan’s breath caught in his throat as he was dragged inside the chamber. His eyes immediately fell on Muira. His wife was lying in the centre of their bed, her hair was damp and hanging in red curls around her face, her skin was flushed and she looked exhausted, but she had never seemed more beautiful to her husband. He opened his mouth to tell her as much, but then his eyes fell on the little bundle that she had cradled in her arms, and he couldn’t seem to find his voice.
A daughter? Wasn’t that what Bridghe had said? Lachlan smiled, positively beaming, as he walked over to see mother and daughter, forcing himself not to run, not to sweep the pair into his arms. He said down beside Muira and wrapped an arm carefully around her shoulders, gazing down into his daughter’s perfect, scrunched up little face as he tried to find the words to express just how ecstatically happy he was feeling.
“Well, I think we can leave these two in peace now, don’t you?” Bridghe said, shooing her sister, the midwife, and a couple of maids out of the bedroom, before leaving herself, after shooting her brother a congratulatory smile.
“She’s so tiny,” Lachlan breathed reverently, reaching out a finger to stroke his daughter’s cheek. “So perfect,” he whispered, looking up and turning to his wife, surprised and horrified to find that there were tears swimming in her eyes-and not tears of joy, but real, unhappy tears. “Muira?” he choked.
“I’m so sorry!” she blurted.
“What in God’s name for?” Lachlan demanded.
“Giving you a daughter and not a son,” she sniffed miserably.
Lachlan stared at her incredulously for a moment. “I never said that I wanted a son more than a daughter,” he argued adamantly, staring down lovingly at the miraculously little girl that was lying sleepily in his wife’s arms.
“But all men-”
“Muira,” Lachlan said, gently but firmly, he placed his fingers under her chin and forced her to look into his eyes. “Listen to me very carefully,” he continued, waiting for her to nod before continuing. “You have just given me the most precious gift in the whole world. I would never love a son any more than a daughter, and you have to realise that, because I never, ever want you to doubt it again. I think she’s perfect, just like her mother,” he breathed huskily.
..ooOOoo..
It was a week since little Maisie MacRae had entered the world, and Muira was still pinching herself in wondrous disbelief. It was all so incredible. She was lying in bed at present, watching her husband and daughter. Lachlan was cradling the baby in his arms, as he walked up and down the length of the room, gently trying to soothe Maisie to sleep.
Muira’s lips curved into a smile. She hadn’t dared hope that Lachlan would take to their daughter so completely. However, it was clear, even now with Maisie so young, that father and daughter shared a special bond. Muira might have felt a twinge of jealousy, if her husband hadn’t utterly doting on her over the past week too.
She was sure that Lachlan was neglecting some of his duties as Laird to pop back and see his new family at every given opportunity. Happily, no one seemed to mind however. Maisie’s birth had been celebrated with great joy throughout the castle and the whole of MacRae’s lands.
It was a real turning point, Lachlan had told her. Everyone was looking on it as a fresh start after the terrible events that had happened earlier that year…
“You’re looking very serious.”
Lachlan’s voice started Muira out of her musings. “But happy,” she assured him with a warm smile. “Is she asleep?” she asked softly, craning her neck to peek at the impossibly tiny bundle that was curled up against Lachlan’s bare chest. It was such a delightful contrast - all that raw power, restrained and protecting, and so gently enfolding their helpless little girl.
Lachlan nodded his head, but was so clearly reluctant to actually put the bairn down that Muira’s heat melted.
“She won’t disappear if you lay her in her crib,” Muira giggled.
Lachlan looked sheepish, but obeyed the unsubtle hint. He placed Maisie in her cot by her mother, and then strolled around to the other side of the bed, stripping off his kilt, and then sitting down on the mattress to take off his boots.
Muira stole a glance at her husband’s naked profile, and then swiftly scolded herself for adding to her torment. Quickly she searched for something else to think about-there was of course only one thing that came to mind.
“You’re so good with her, Lachlan.”
He chuckled and slid between the blankets. “I had an awful lot of practice with my sisters’ kids.”
Which was perfectly true, Muira had to admit, Lachlan was better versed in the strange little quirks of all things infantile than she had been before Maisie entered their lives. To her private chagrin, he still was… Muira had to wonder if there was anything that her husband didn’t know about or was bad at.
Muira watched him yawn, and then settle down to sleep… leaving a gap between them wide enough to fit another body in. She knew why he did it… but she also craved the human contact of her husband too much to oblige him tonight. Muira wriggled closer, snuggling against Lachlan’s side. She felt his body tense immediately, but he didn’t push her away.
“Tease,” he growled, but clasped her to his side.
..ooOOoo..
Muira was woken several times in the night by an alternatively hungry, tetchy, or in need of a change, Maisie. So she was more tired after she got up the next morning than she had been when she went to bed. It had to be the same for Lachlan, Muira mused. He’d woken every single time that their daughter cried too, but he still managed to rouse himself the next morning cheerfully. He was looking tired though. Muira noted the shadows under his eyes as he gave her and little Maisie a kiss goodbye before leaving them to attend to his duties as Laird.
The next time Maisie cried for a feed, Muira plucked her out of her cot and offered her a breast, and then kept her where she was once she’d finished nursing. The pair dozed together contentedly until Muira’s new maid arrived to help her dress. Maisie gave a little gurgle of protest as she was put down. Muira supposed that she’d need to find a nanny soon too… but both she and Lachlan were reluctant to tread down that route every time someone brought the subject up.
Muira sighed unhappily in the mirror as Jane tied her into her corset. This was the one blight on her happiness. The fact that she’d lost the figure that she’d always been quietly very proud of… Bridghe was helping to give her tips on how to regain the slimness she’d lost, but even her sister-in-law admitted that there were some changes that couldn’t be reversed no
matter how many exercises she might try or bonbons she might pass over.
Lachlan didn’t seem to mind too terribly… not that he’d say anything if he did, Muira admitted to herself woefully. She had seen him eyeing her larger bust lustfully she was sure (as if her breasts had needed enhancing, she lamented sadly, they were terribly tender, and gave her the worst back ache) but apart from that… he hadn’t actually called her beautiful since before Maisie’s birth, Muira realised with a start.
She let that fact dwell on her mind all morning, so that, by the time it was time for lunch, and Lachlan was due at any moment, Muira had heartily depressed herself.
“How are my two favourite girls then?” Lachlan asked brightly as he strolled into the small dining area that he and Muira always used to eat their private meals.
“Fine,” Muira sniffed.
Lachlan instantly stopped in his trek over to Maisie’s crib and turned to face his wife. “Muira? What’s wrong?” he frowned anxiously, walking straight over to the table where his wife was already sat. “And don’t-” he cut her off before she could get a word out “-tell me nothing’s wrong, because I can see it in your eyes.” Muira clamped her lips together and pouted. “Are you sick?” Lachlan asked.
“No.”
“Is Maisie sick?”
“No.”
“Then what-”
Muira looked up at her husband, really looked at him. He was so utterly handsome. She was sure that she took it for granted at times, got used to seeing his face, but he was absolutely magnificent, and it still took her breath away. And now she looked-she looked…
“Do you still think I’m beautiful?” she croaked tearfully.
Lachlan blinked. “Do I-” he started incredulously, as if he couldn’t quite believe what Muira had just asked. “Oh, love,” he breathed, reaching for her, dragging her out of her chair and into his arms. “Of course you’re still beautiful!” he swore.
Muira sniffed and forced a smile. “Like you could say anything else now,” she said, but her voice was wobbly as she tried to make a joke out of her insecurities.
“Do you really think that? You know I hate liars,” Lachlan argued, his tone gentle and firm all at the same time. “Poor darling,” he whispered after a pause, holding her tight against his chest as he ran a hand tenderly through her hair. Muira hiccupped against him, and Lachlan felt a smile tug at his lips despite himself. “Have I been neglecting you?” he murmured, kissing the top of her head.
“Oh no!” Muria said quickly, and then she couldn’t say anything else because Lachlan had moved on to kissing her lips.
It had been far too long since he’d kissed her like this! Slow and smouldering, his tongue surged deeply, licking and flicking so that Muira nerves fairly crackled and buzzed with pleasure. She was breathless by the time he released her, and had she been a cat she would also have been purring.
“How much longer?” Lachlan panted, forcing himself to release his wife.
Muira bit her lip and looked guilty. She knew of course what he was talking about… “Another month at least,” she muttered, hating the look of agony that passed across her husband’s face. Lachlan was a man of hearty… appetites… and they hadn’t been… intimate since long before Maisie had joined them.
Lachlan seemed to need a few moments to become accustomed to this further curbing of his husbandly rights. Once he had, he held back Muira’s chair for her to sit down, and took his place opposite, after ringing for their meal to be brought through. Once they had their food, Lachlan sat back in his chair with a look of sudden satisfaction on his face. He clearly wanted to be asked what was wrong-or rather-right, so Muira obliged him.
“You certainly look please with yourself,” she probed.
“I remember, I forgot, I have something to tell you that should cheer you up.”
“Oh Lachlan I don’t need cheering up,” Muira said quickly. “I was just being silly and emotion and-”
“I think you’re entitled,” Lachlan said gently. He reached across the intimate little table and caught hold of Muria’s hand, bringing it to his lips in a tender kiss that made his wife blush. “Your uncle has invited us for a visit. Well, when I ‘us’ I really mean you and Maisie, but-”
“My uncle? Laird Cameron?” Muira gasped.
“Unless you have another uncle you haven’t told me about?” Lachlan grinned. “I thought you’d like to see Castle Cameron again, and your father, brothers-”
“Oh, but the clans?” Muira said hesitantly, things had been even more strained between the Camerons and MacRaes since Tavish MacEantach’s execution.
“Will be fine, we’re going as something of a peace envoy,” he confessed sheepishly.
Muira beamed and squeezed his hand. “Continuing Graem’s work?” she asked gently.
“Something like that,” Lachlan nodded quietly, and thoughtfully.
..ooOOoo..
Laird and Lady MacRae left for Castle Cameron a fortnight later. Muira travelled with Maisie and the baby’s new nanny in a carriage, while Lachlan rode on horseback with the guards. Muira had the strangest feeling that he was keeping something from her… She couldn’t work out what it was, but there was definitely something suspicious in his beaming grin and jovial air.
Muira pondered what could be wrong with her husband, as she stared out of the carriage window, recalling the time, almost exactly a year ago when she had been making the reverse journey. Her lips twitched in a smile. It was hard to belief that a set of such rash choices had led (aside from Lachlan’s current perplexity) to such blissful happiness.
They stopped at The Three Oaks to break their journey over night. Muira couldn’t keep a blush from her face as she stepped inside the quaint little pub where she had first come to know her husband in the Biblical sense. Lachlan strolled in after her a few minutes later after tending to his horse. He chuckled when he caught the look on his wife’s face; his own thoughts were similarly engaged in revisiting the past.
“It hasn’t changed much,” Lachlan mused, still grinning like a Cheshire cat, as he and his wife sat down for their evening meal. Muira had asked to have her food send to her room. Maisie was due for a feed shortly as she didn’t want to disturb everyone. She had been surprised, but very pleasantly so, when Lachlan shunned the company of the other men to join her.
“No, it hasn’t changed at all,” Muira conceded. Her eyes flitted nervously around the chamber… it was exactly the same room, where they’d spent their first night together as husband and wife. The rush of memories that they had made in this room made her squirm restlessly.
“You seem to have had a regression yourself,” Lachlan laughed, taking a swig of ale.
“What do you mean?” Muira started.
“I’m not going to pounce on you,” he assured her, watching as she scooped up a crying Maisie to nurse. “As much as I might like to,” he groaned. “So you can stop behaving like a skittish young maiden.”
“I’m not!” Muira cried. Maisie gave a shriek of protest as she was jerked. Her mother soothed her quickly, and she was soon suckling happily again.
“Muira, you’re as skittish as-”
“That’s not why I’m jumpy,” she blurted, and then bit the inside of her lip. “I mean-” she stammered, but it was too late. Lachlan’s eyes had taken on that dark smouldering glaze that only ever meant one thing.
“Yes?” he purred. “You mean?”
“The doctor said we mustn’t,” Muira said breathless, suddenly feeling very hot. “He said-”
“There are other things we can do,” Lachlan continued wickedly. He let his eyes travel over his wife’s body, making her skin prickle with heat just from a glance. “Or have you forgotten already? I don’t need to be inside you to pleasure you,” he chuckled darkly.
“No, but-” Muira squeaked, but she was losing the battle and she knew it. The second that Maisie had stopped feeding Lachlan would pounce on her… and she knew she wouldn’t do a thing to stop him.
As if he’d read her thoughts, Lachlan sat back in his chair, not touching his own food, but watching with rabid interest as his daughter finished her meal. He had just enough patience remaining to wait until Muira had winded Maisie before gently plucking the bairn from her mother’s arms.
“Lachlan!” Muira squealed, but her husband ignored her.
Maise gurgled happy as her father carried her across the room. He opened up the door and called for the nanny. Muira couldn’t make out what he was saying, but she saw him plainly lock the door once he had sent the nanny away with their daughter.
“Lachlan?” she repeated breathlessly, stumbling to her feet as her husband reached her side in a few easy strides. Muira gasped as Lachlan grabbed her waist without apology, pulling her roughly into his arms, before lowering his mouth to devour her.
He was like a starving man. Muira could barely keep up with the thrusts of his tongue, or the desperate wanderings of his hands. She needed this… him… Muira realised with a start, and a shudder, and a groan. Maybe it wouldn’t be so awful? And if Lachlan was desperate enough to let her keep her clothes on… he needn’t know yet how sorely her body had let her down?
That hope was almost immediately squashed however, Lachlan hands were tugging impatiently at the laces of her corset, while his teeth nibbled an intoxicating line down the elegant curve of Muira’s throat.
“I want you naked,” he was rasping. “I want to see you, all of you. Hell, it’s been far too long!” he growled.
“Wait!” Muira squealed, pushing against her husband, evidently catching him by surprise because he let her go. “Can we-can we snub the candles?” she asked breathlessly, raising her fingers to her lips, which were swollen and tingling from Lachlan’s kisses.
Lachlan drew a great gulping breath and looked at Muira in confusion. “We can, but why would we want to?” he asked, approaching her cautiously, as one might approach and unbroken horse. “Muria?” he pressed, his voice was gentle all of a sudden, but there was hard determination beneath the softness.
A Beautiful Lie (The Camaraes) Page 39