"Oh, my, ye give me a grand standard to live up to."
He laughed. “Ye have already done so. And, as I vowed before that priest, there will be no others. I need no others and I will want none. I havenae since I first saw ye. Ye didnae believe me the first time I told ye that, but I pray ye will believe me now."
"Aye. I think those fears began to fade when ye made your vows before that overfed priest. Ye are a mon who would hold to a vow, e'en one made whilst a sword was held to your back.” She exchanged a brief grin with him, the memory of their wedding now one full of amusement for her. “What do ye want from marriage, Payton?"
Payton frowned a little. “Weel, companionship.” He grimaced. “Nay verra romantic. I want someone I ken will be there with me, for me. Someone I dinnae have to play the courtier's game for, whom I can be myself with, warts and all. I ken the passion will ease, will change in some ways o'er the years, so dinnae fear I think only on that. I want to ken that nay matter how much this shell of mine—this covering that so many think is so beautiful—nay matter how it softens, or wrinkles, or becomes scarred, it willnae matter to ye because ye dinnae love it, ye love me."
"Oh, aye. E'en in the bonniest, much of that gift is one bestowed by youth. Age can change it, battle can steal it, disease can fade it. I ken all of this. I am nay such a fool as to love a shell, nay matter how bonnie it is, or how looking at ye can make my breath catch in my throat. After all, Roderick was a handsome mon, aye?"
"Aye, but too few others understand the need to look beyond that gloss. I ken ye see me as more than a bonnie mon who happens to please your eye. So did my heart."
"So, ye want companionship.” She stroked his legs and felt him shift against her. “And passion."
"And bairns. I would ne'er ask ye to bear more than ye want,” he hurried to add, “but, ah, lass, I do want bairns. Bonnie little lasses with storm-grey eyes and night-dark hair."
"There is a verra strong chance that I will bear a lot of laddies,” she said.
"Aye, I ken it, but one wee lass would be nice, if God wills it."
"Weel, we can judge his benevolence in, oh, about seven months, mayhap a wee bit more."
Kirstie waited for the moment the import of her words finally settled in his mind. The sudden delight that bloomed upon his face was all she could have hoped for. Now that she knew he loved her, she felt only joy over his reaction to the news. Payton wanted and needed her. That made the child she carried a much-valued gift and not just another obligation.
Payton placed an unsteady hand upon her still-taut belly. “Are ye certain?"
"To be honest, I am still trying to believe it. I was told by Wee Alice only a short while ago when she helped attire me in that fine linen shift ye so quickly cast aside.” She blushed and looked away as she said, “I havenae bled since shortly after we first met and I should have. Twice, I believe.” Then she smiled at him. “And, Gillyanne says ‘tis true."
He held her tight, then kissed her. “Thank ye, lass. And, ye will be fine."
She could sense the hint of fear beneath his somewhat foolish command. “Oh, aye, I will.” She stroked his cheek. “With such a champion by my side, how could I be anything else but verra fine indeed?"
"So, e'en though I am now your husband, your love, ye still see me as your champion?"
"Oh, aye. My love, my husband, and my champion. The champion of my heart. Always."
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About the Author
Hannah Howell is an award-winning author who lives with her family in Massachusetts. She is the author of nineteen Zebra historical romances. Hannah loves hearing from readers and you may write to her c/o Zebra Books. Please include a self-addressed stamped envelope if you wish a response.
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Highland Angel Page 29