Highland Wedding

by Hannah Howell

  “That is nonsense.”

  “Aye, I can see that now. Although,” he shook away his somber thoughts and leered at her playfully, “mayhaps not seeing as ye like the touching weel.”

  “Iain,” she groaned, coloring with embarrassment.

  He laughed softly and hugged her. “I cannae say I willnae have fears and worries when ye get with child but ’tis less. Tavis says he still tastes the fear each time Storm gets with child. There is always a danger but,” he glanced at his sons, “the rewards are great and if ye are willing to take the risks then so am I.” He grasped her by the shoulders and said firmly, “Ne’er forget though, Islaen, that I will ne’er make ye face those risks. If ye said this once was enough, I would be content with that.”

  She nodded. “I ken it, Iain. I will ken too when I wish to stop. Storm does. One more, she thinks, mayhaps two, but then she is done an only because she wants to see them all grow while she is young and strong enough to enjoy it.” She tried to smother a yawn.

  “That sounds verra reasonable. And,” he quickly kissed her, “what else is reasonable is leaving ye to rest.” He climbed out of bed and collected the tray, then said carefully, “Alexander sends love and good wishes. He says he will come soon.”

  “Iain, if ye dinnae want him about ye need but say so.”

  “He is a friend.”

  “Aye, Iain, he is. I think ye would find it hard to find any better.”

  “Aye, I would.” He bent to quickly kiss her. “Rest, Islaen. Ye can get out of bed for a wee while tomorrow.”

  “That will be verra nice,” she murmured even as her eyes closed. “Good sleep, Iain.”

  “Good sleep, Islaen,” he said quietly but doubted he would have one for he found his bed too empty, the nights too long.

  Islaen almost regretted her first meal in the hall. Her family took it as a sign of her complete recovery, as it was, and announced their departure. With Iain close by her side, watching to see that she did not grow too weary, she followed her family around as they prepared to leave. Iain made no complaint until she started to go outside with her father.

  “I am not sure ’tis wise for her to take the air yet.”

  “Wheesht, lad, ’tis a fine day and she is bundled up weel,” Alaistair said as he put an arm around Islaen’s shoulders and took her out with him. “A drop of fresh air will do her good.”

  “T’will soon be spring,” Islaen murmured as she took a deep breath of the clean, crisp air and savored it.

  “Aye, ’tis near. That will be good for your wee lass. If she can make it through ’til the weather turns finer, warmer, I will feel she has a good chance. ’Tis the cold that is the greatest danger to the weak ones. I will pray long and hard for an early spring and a warm one.” He hugged Islaen and kissed her. “I wish I could stay until her fate is more certain.”

  “Ye cannae and I ken it. We thought her fate certain when she left my womb, yet a fortnight has passed. Nay, ye go as ye must. We will send ye word when we feel certain and that could be weeks yet.” She sighed. “I do hate the waiting.”

  After clasping her shoulder briefly in sympathetic understanding, Alaistair left her to say farewell to her brothers.

  “Now, ye have watched them ride away so ye can get back inside,” Iain said sternly even as he turned her around and urged her back inside.

  Glancing at him, she drawled, “Oh, and I thought we might have us a wee gallop.”

  “Ye are mad.”

  “Weel, I may soon be an I must keep to my chambers much longer. T’would nay hurt an I sat about in a different room.”

  He looked at her for a moment, then nodded. It was easy to understand her feelings. The few times he had been confined to his bed by wounds or illness he had felt much the same. Too much confinement bred a dangerous recklessness that prompted one to do things too soon. She was healed enough now to start suffering from that and he intended to try and curtail it.

  Islaen felt her patience grow weaker as her body grew stronger. Telling Iain that she knew what she could and could not do as well as anyone did not stop his close watch over her. She noticed that even Storm tended to mother her, and finally decided enough was enough. When, after a month, Storm still insisted on picking up the babies for her, Islaen looked at her dear friend sternly.

  “Ye need not do that anymore, ye ken. I didnae break my arms during the birthing.”

  Startled by the tartness in Islaen’s voice, Storm first gaped. Then her eyes slowly widened as she thought on what Islaen had said. Finally, she laughed, shook her head and sat down next to Islaen on the bed.

  “I am sorry, Islaen. I e’er hated it when I was treated thus, yet here I do it to you.”

  “Nay, I am sorry.” Islaen smiled crookedly as she began to nurse Morogh. “I shouldnae snap at you. Ye but meant to help.”

  “I was cosseting you and well I know it. Do not apologize,” Storm said with a smile as she let a hungry but patient Padruig suck on her finger. “I am sure ye have more than enough of it. Ye held back your annoyance longer than I e’er could.”

  “’Tis not easy but I keep reminding myself that ye all mean weel, that ’tis because ye care. Aye, e’en Iain, I think.”

  “Ye think? Surely some of your fears have been eased by the way he has acted these last months? Ye can see how he cares.”

  “Aye, about the mother of his bairns.” She smiled slightly when Storm grimaced. “I daren’t see too much in his actions.”

  “Nay, I recall feeling so when I carried Tavis’s first babe, well, babes. Of course when I first told him I was with child, I had caught him with his old mistress in his arms. It may have shaded my feelings some,” she drawled.

  “Oh, aye, a wee bit.” Islaen laughed softly. “When I saw Iain with another in his arms, I wept.”

  “Ye do not carry a knife, ’tis all. A very quiet babe is Padruig.”

  “Considering the blood in his veins, ’tis a surprise, eh?”

  “Quite.”

  “Robert is quiet. We call him the peacemaker. He is slow to anger but when he does,” she grimaced. “’Tis a sight to behold.”

  “From a distance.”

  “Quite a long distance. Iain is quiet.”

  “Aye, and ye are patient.”

  “I have no choice.”

  “Aye, your heart gives you none. Do not totally disregard how Iain acts now, Islaen.”

  “Nay, I willnae but neither will I forget that it could be the bairns. Most men treat a woman with child, in her belly or at her breast, kindly. E’en more so if ’tis his bairn. Iain wanted children though he tried to deny himself and that desire could guide how he acts. T’would be foolish to ignore that. I would be asking for a hurt and one he didnae intend to give. I will find joy in his forgiveness.”

  “Of course he forgave you. T’was not a malicious deceit. I should like to call you fool and tell you to value Iain’s actions now, yet I understand your reluctance. I think I would have the same. ’Tis so hard to know for certain. Ye daren’t let your heart lead you.”

  “It leads me enough as it is. Dinnae fash yourself o’er me, Storm. I have it better than most.” She smiled crookedly. “T’would be a wee bit easier an I didnae have ye and Tavis to show me what I dinnae have and thus make me taste envy and dissatisfaction.”

  “That was hard won. T’was o’er a year ere we e’er sorted ourselves out. Love shared rarely comes easy or fast.”

  “So long as it comes,” Islaen whispered, “be it one year or five. I but ask God for the patience to wait for it and not lose faith.” She grimaced. “That would be easier an Iain didnae pull back each time I see a sign of softening, a hope to gain his heart.”

  “He cannot run forever.”

  Islaen was not so sure of that as the days went by. She was ready to have him come back to her bed, ached for him to hold her in the night, but he made no move to do so. Although she told herself he might still be giving her time to heal, might think she needed more time than she did, he
r fears began to grow with each night that he left her to sleep alone. He seemed oblivious to her hints and unmoved by her subtle, shy attempts at seduction. The man seemed to have lost all interest in the passion they could share. When she kissed him good night, he would leave with every appearance of calm while she was left breathless and frustrated.

  Iain closed the door between his bedchamber and Islaen’s and leaned against it. He was astounded that he could continue to walk away when every inch of him ached with the need to make love to her. Seeing the want in her fine eyes only made it all the harder. She would certainly not complain if he rejoined her in her bed, if he gave into the hunger knotting his insides.

  Moving to get ready for bed and yet another sleepless night, he thought about leaving. The weather had cleared enough for work to begin on Muircraig again. Perhaps if he were not so near to her it would be easier, he mused. It would at least mean that he did not have to see her willingness, would not be pulled at by the desire in her eyes.

  Watching as Iain directed his men in preparing to leave, Islaen sighed and struggled to hide her hurt. He had Muircraig to retreat to again. She had had all winter to reach him but had failed. It was difficult not to wonder if she reached for the unattainable.

  “Come, Islaen, dinnae look so dowie. He doesnae go to war, only to Muircraig,” Robert said quietly as he put an arm around her.

  “Aye, to Muircraig. I grow to hate that place.”

  “At least ’tis not a woman.”

  “Nay, but it may as weel be.”

  “I wish I kenned what to tell ye, how to make it better.”

  She smiled at him. “So do I. Och, weel, dinnae fash yourself. This is what I wanted. If ’tis not all I want or need ’tis my worry. No one can mend it for me. I must do that myself or learn to live with what I have. When all is said and done, I have more than many anither. I fear I am just greedy.”

  “Nay, not greedy. Ye reach for what we all do. Dinnae cease to reach, Islaen. Someday ye shall look to find it in your grasp.” He kissed her cheek. “Patience, dearling. He is a good mon and I ken he ne’er means to hurt you. ’Tis all that keeps me from beating him.”

  She laughed softly, then frowned. “Just why do ye travel to Muircraig, Robert?”

  “Many reasons, my wee suspicious sister. The sure way to keep you happy is to keep Iain alive so I go to protect him. I also go to have something to do other than lurking about keeping watch. There is work at Muircraig. And, finally, I go to see that, while he sorts himself out, he doesnae get tempted into erring against you. That Maura and Lady Mary lurk nearby. I dinnae think the first is any threat for she is newly betrothed and sounds a woman wise enough to take what is certain and discard the gamble. Lady Mary is different. I dinnae trust the wench. Iain I trust but he is but a mon, a troubled mon.”

  “Aye, weel, take care, Robert.” She did not want to think about Lady Mary, who may not have been fully deterred by Iain’s rejection at court, so she turned her attention to her husband as he approached her and Robert discreetly left. “Ye have fine weather.”

  “Verra fine. I pray it holds. ’Tis good weather to work in.”

  “Ye will be careful, Iain?” she said softly, grasping his hand.

  Taking her hand to his lips, he smiled faintly. “I take as many warriors as workers and craftsmen. Dinnae fash yourself loving.”

  “’Tis easier said than done. Will ye stay away long?” she asked quietly, then cursed herself for the weakness that prompted the question.

  “There is much work to be done. I dinnae wish to be left with work to do when winter returns again.”

  “Nay, of course not.”

  “Ye take care, Islaen.” He lightly kissed her. “I will pray for our wee lass,” he added softly, then abruptly left her.

  Islaen watched until Iain could no longer be seen, then, with a heavy sigh, turned to go back into the keep. She found herself wishing that Alexander had not made such a fleeting visit, then cursed herself. Her friends and kin could not be made to fill the place her husband left empty in her life. It was wrong and, in Alexander’s case, perhaps a little cruel. There were other ways to fill the days without making demands upon friends and kin. The emptiness Iain left was not something they could ever fill anyway. They could only deter the pain it caused and it was past time that she learned to manage that on her own.

  She made her way to the nursery to find Grizel and Liusadh. At first she had been reluctant, almost afraid, to see her little daughter. Islaen realized she did not want to grow too fond of the baby when the child’s life was still so uncertain. Once she faced that, she stopped trying to protect herself. She knew little would ease the loss of a child, even one considered doomed from birth, just as she knew she would deeply regret not coming to know her child for however long God decided to let the baby survive.

  Smiling crookedly, Islaen watched Grizel take the baby from the blanket sling Liusadh rarely left. She might come to know her daughter, but Islaen doubted Liusadh would take much notice of her. It hurt a little but, if Grizel’s constant care and love let the child live, it would be worth it. Indeed, not having Liusadh’s full love seemed a small sacrifice if Liusadh gained a full life.

  “She is verra tiny,” Islaen said softly as she gazed down at the child she held. “’Tis as if she is but newborn.”

  “Och, weel, after holding those two bonnie laddies I suspicion she would feel so, but she’s agrowing, m’lady.”

  “Strange, is it not, that she doesnae look as the lads do? In truth she is just the opposite. They have my hair but Iain’s eyes and she has Iain’s hair but my eyes. Ye would think they would each resemble the other.” She gently touched Liusadh’s dark curls.

  “M’lord Tavis’s twins dinnae look exact alike. They too are mixed about. Yet, when they are side by side there is a sameness. She will be a bonnie lass, m’lady. Do ye,” Grizel cleared her throat. “Do ye wish to have the care of her now?”

  “Nay, I still cannae give her all she needs. We are verra fortunate to have ye, Grizel. A bairn like this needs constant warmth and food. She would ne’er survive if she had to fight her brothers for it. I but hope she will understand when she grows.”

  “Aye, she will, m’lady. I will be sure she does. And grow she will, m’lady,” Grizel vowed softly but vehemently.

  “I begin to believe she will. Best ye take her back. There is still the bite of cold to the air, the threat of a chill.” As she watched her daughter disappear into the sling across Grizel’s ample bosom, Islaen whispered, “Another month and my fears for her will ease.”

  Outside of the nursery she met Storm who immediately asked, “How fares Liusadh? All is well?”

  “Aye,” Islaen replied as she started towards her chambers. “If ye see worry upon my face tis but the fear that that will change.”

  Slipping her arm through Islaen’s, Storm said, “Each day she lives gives us reason to hope. She has already lived longer than most thought she would. Find strength in that, Islaen. Why, she does not e’en sicken but grows stronger each day.”

  “But so slowly. When I hold her my heart tightens with fear for she is so verra tiny.”

  “She began life very tiny. T’will be a while e’er she gains much weight. Mayhaps she but gains now what she was unable to gain in the womb.”

  “Aye, I am certain the lads took much of the nourishment.”

  “She will probably ne’er be very big, certainly not like her brothers.”

  “Nay, of course not. I ken that but ’tis hard to recall it when I hold her. There is so much she must fight, yet with so little.”

  “But fight she does, Islaen, so ye know there is strength there.”

  “Aye, I do, but I think I will increase my prayers too.” She smiled crookedly as she heard Morogh’s angry squawl come from her chambers as she stopped before her door. “Weel, I think her brothers will see that I delay e’en praying for their wee sister. I hope she has a chance to pay them back for their greediness.”

&n
bsp; Storm stayed to help change the boys and to entertain Padruig while Islaen fed Morogh. As soon as Morogh was satisfied, Storm left Islaen with her children.

  For a while she played with her increasingly active sons, putting aside her fears for their sister. Despite her pleasure in them she could not fully stop herself from comparing their plump, active bodies to Liusadh’s tiny, too quiet one. It did seem a little unfair that they should get so much and Liusadh so little. The division of health and strength had not been very equal.

  Placing her sons in their bed, she knelt by the crib. Singing softly she rocked them, watching them as they fell asleep. At times she wished to see them grow swiftly so that she could know the men they would become, but at other times she wished them to stay babies so that she could hold them in her arms.

  Kneeling by the cradle that held her healthy sleeping sons, she clasped her hands. Her thoughts were fully upon Liusadh now, the tiny girl that clung so tenaciously to life, and she began to pray.

  “Lord, Ye must be verra weary of me but I beg Ye to heed me. I thank Ye for my sons but my mother’s heart cries out for more. If ’tis greed, I beg Ye to forgive me but I pray for Liusadh, for my third bairn. God, please, I ken the value of all Ye have given me but, please, let the bairn live. Grant me but one small miracle.”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  One small miracle was efficiently stopped from pulling on her brother Morogh’s hair by Grizel, the woman Islaen felt almost fully responsible for her small daughter’s survival, God and Wallace taking the rest of the credit. Liusadh was still tiny but she was very much alive, striving as hard as her brothers to throw off the dependency of infancy. Islaen was so pleased to have her daughter alive and growing that she felt little jealousy about the way Liusadh turned so often to Grizel rather than her mother.

  Grizel had followed Wallace’s instructions for plenty of warmth and food with a vengeance. Islaen often mused that, until just recently, Liusadh had seemed permanently attached to Grizel’s ample bosom. Not only had Grizel carried the child next to her warmth with a blanket sling all day, but she had slept with the child at night to further thwart the damp and the chill. Islaen felt Grizel’s grief over her own dead child had turned into an iron determination that Liusadh would live.