No Other Highlander
Page 28
Joan turned her face upward, closed her eyes, and let the breeze blow over her, glad of the refreshing cold.
Movement stirred around her, yet Joan did not have to open her eyes to know that Malcolm drew near. The fatigue and strain she felt disappeared the moment he placed a comforting hand upon her shoulder.
“Are ye all right?” he asked.
“I’ve managed to prevent myself from throwing up all over my boots,” Joan replied. “A small victory.”
Malcolm’s eyes filled with worry. “The sickness still plagues ye? I thought by this time it would pass.”
“So did I.” Joan sighed. “This is far worse than when I carried Callum. That must mean the babe will be a lass.”
Joan leaned against him, nestling close to his chest. Malcolm’s hand slid off her shoulder to her stomach. He ran his hand soothingly over her slightly rounded belly. “Is there naught ye can take to ease the discomfort?”
Joan shook her head. “Nothing seems to help. I nibble on dry oatcakes, but they dinnae stay down fer long. I drink chamomile tea with a spoonful of honey and it soon reappears. I even tried one of yer mother’s brews yesterday.”
“Och, ye must be desperate to allow Mother to tend to ye.” He placed a gentle kiss on her brow. “It pains me to watch ye suffer.”
Laughter bubbled up her throat and she let out a chuckle. “This is easy compared to labor. And far more quiet.”
His expression grew solemn. “I fear I shall go mad with worry when the time comes for ye to bring our bairn into the world.”
Joan ran her fingers lightly over his furrowed brow. “Once my pains begin, I shall charge yer father with keeping ye drunk as a lord until our little one makes an appearance.”
He smiled, as she intended. “I’m not the only one anxious for the babe to arrive,” he said. “Lileas can barely contain her excitement.”
“Aye. Ever since she heard, she asks me each morning if today will be the day she gets to hold her new brother or sister.”
“Och, ’tis going to be a long winter.” Malcolm dragged his fingers through his hair. “I’ll speak with her.”
“Nay, I dinnae mind her questions. It shows how much she cares.”
Malcolm groaned. “Lileas’s passion over the things she cares about is going to be the death of me. Of us. She is still complaining about not being allowed to go with my mother when Davina gave birth to her son a few months ago. And I heard there was another incident in the stables this morning.”
Joan waved her hand dismissively. “’Twas a minor mishap. I thought Mistress Innes was going to accompany the children to the stables for their morning ride and she thought I was going to do it.”
“And when neither of you did, Lileas went on her own, taking Callum with her.” Malcolm shook his head. “Will she ever learn to obey?”
“’Tis true that Lileas knows full well she should not have gone without me or Mistress Innes. However, she dinnae go near any of the other horses. She saddled both her pony and Callum’s, but waited fer me to arrive before mounting. And she very proudly told me that she would never ride through the gates unless she had permission and a proper escort.”
Malcolm sighed. “I suppose for Lileas that shows a great deal of restraint.”
“It does. She is much improved,” Joan insisted.
Malcolm’s face creased into a puzzled frown. “Now I know the world has shifted when ye are the one defending Lileas’s behavior.”
“Lileas is learning the virtue of patience.”
“Why does that not reassure me, wife?”
Their shared laughter filtered through the bailey. The merriment even helped to distract Joan from her queasy stomach. And the tenderness in Malcolm’s eyes made her feel safe and cherished. She leaned against him for a moment and soaked in his strength.
Saints above, she loved this man. He had become the center of her world and in moments such as this she felt awash in happiness.
That he had chosen her was a gift of fate, that he had been so determined to win her trust and love, a miracle. One that she would be thankful for each and every day, for the rest of her life.
Despite the uncomfortable rumblings that persisted in her abdomen, Joan found herself smiling again. She tipped her chin and their mouths met in a deep, lingering kiss.
“The color is slowly returning to yer cheeks,” Malcolm said, nipping playfully at the tip of her nose. “Do ye feel any better?”
She pulled back and looked up at him. “’Tis yer bold kisses warming me from the inside.”
He grinned wolfishly and her heart melted anew. The emptiness that had dwelled inside her for so long was finally banished, replaced by the power of Malcolm’s love.
Of the many blessings Joan was privileged to receive, that was by far the most miraculous, and she vowed to cherish it always.