Her Highland Destiny

by Leanne Burroughs

  Tory urged, “Hurry! We must get her back into the castle. She is too cold. She risks losing the babe unless we get her warm.”

  “What is wrong with my lady wife?” His eyes swung to Tory, pleaded as Grant helped him lift his wife. “Tory, tell me what is wrong!”

  “Her breathing slows. Too slow.”

  “The bairn?”

  “I know not.”

  Chapter Thirty-five

  “Tory, tell me she will be all right.”

  “I know not, Duncan. Her body is too cold. We must do something—fast.” She grabbed Catherine’s hand and rubbed it. “Cat, wake up. Please, Cat, do not die.”

  All color drained from Duncan’s face. “My lady wife will not die.” He gently shook Catherine. “Do you hear me, wife. You will not die!”

  Catherine’s body shook uncontrollably. She lapsed into chills. That scared Tory. Continuous chills were a sign Cat was too cold. When they came in waves, the body was giving up the fight to stay warm. Cat’s breathing slowed, a sure sign her heart was slowing, and so would the babe’s.

  Duncan turned his face to meet Grant’s. “We return her to the castle. I cannot think! Which would be faster? Through the woods or back through the tunnel?”

  “The tunnels. It starts to rain. Getting her wet would only make her colder,” Grant cautioned.

  “Then the tunnel it is.”

  “We cannot be sure how we came,” Grant said. “There are many trails.”

  Tory sobbed. “If it helps, my right hand was on the wall the whole way down. My hands were tied behind my back, but I made him cut my bonds so I could help Cat. I used one to hold her and dragged my right hand along the wall. I never took it off until the last turn, and then we turned left.

  “That’s my smart lass,” Grant chuckled. “Ever resourceful.”

  Duncan nodded. “We use the tunnels.” He placed a kiss on Catherine’s head. “Did you hear, Sweetling? You will be fine.”

  She didn’t move. Didn’t open her eyes. Her breathing grew shallower as they rushed through the tunnels thanks to Tory’s directions.

  He buried Catherine’s face in the hollow of his neck, murmured encouraging words in her ear. “I love you, Mo Chridhe. Forget that not. Wake up now. Come on, Cat, please awaken.”

  Duncan felt her body tense several times as contractions wracked her body. But even they seemed weaker than before. Did the cold affect their bairn as well? Oh, God, do not let us lose this bairn, too. Grant me the chance to make up for all the wrongs I have done.

  The false doorway to their room stood open. Duncan breathed a prayer of relief. Everyone rushed through it and Duncan headed to their bed. He placed Catherine gently on it, smoothed her hair from her face. She was so cold.

  Tory ordered, “Fetch blankets. Pile them atop her. We have to warm her.” She turned to look for her husband. “Grant, lock that wardrobe door. I know I saw Erwin die, but I wish to take no chances. Then, build up the fire. I care not how hot you make the room. Catherine must get warm.”

  Her husband moved to the wardrobe, ran his hand along the inside and moved the door back into place. “There is a lock inside,” he announced. It clicked loudly as he secured it.

  Turning, Tory saw worry in everyone’s eyes. “Move everyone! Find Siobhán, then have Cook boil water and heat a broth.”

  While Grant built up the fire, he turned to watch his wife. “Thank God Tory is a healer. Otherwise we would have to wait until someone else could be found.”

  Tory smiled at her husband. Duncan felt her hand on his arm. “Help me get Cat into dry clothes. Her chemise is wet from the cave’s dampness.”

  Duncan rushed to the wardrobe and found a shift. Tory stripped Catherine’s wet clothes off while Duncan brought the dry garment to her. He raised Catherine up so Tory could slip it over her head.

  His eyes swung to her, took in her wet clothes. “What about you?”

  “No time now. Once we get the heating stones around her, then I shall change.”

  Siobhán rushed into the room, her arms loaded with sheets of wool. Tears streamed down her face. “They heat the warming brick as we speak. What can I do?”

  “Watch the fire. Keep adding peat.” Tory pulled the blankets over Catherine with Siobhán’s help.

  Next, Tory bound Duncan’s wounds. “This is temporary. I shall tend them fully later. Right now, get into bed with Cat. Warm her with your body.”

  He turned to look at the woman he loved. The stark contrast of her dark auburn hair against her alabaster skin frightened him. He’d never seen a woman this pale. A memory flashed through his mind. Nay! She looked like this the day she lost their bairn in London. Please God, do not let that happen to her again.

  He slid in beside her. Leaning against the headboard, he embraced Catherine in his arms and cradled her against his chest. He gently tapped her face with his hand, trying to revive her. “Cat, wake up. You must fight, lass. Fight for our love. You told me you love me, said so in the cave. I shall hold you to that.”

  As time passed and she didn’t move, a tear trickled down his cheek. The contractions slowed. Her body no longer fought to bring their child into the world. She was still too cold. He was cold, too, fear spreading through him. If she lost their bairn, he’d lose her, too. He wouldn’t survive that.

  Angus rushed in with two lads, pails full of heated bricks. Grant, Siobhán, and Tory stacked them on both sides of Catherine. Siobhán kept tucking the blankets around her as though fearful of leaving.

  Duncan looked up when Tory stroked his cheek. “The bricks shall warm her. Already I see a bead of sweat on your brow.”

  “I will not let her go.” He held Catherine cradled like a babe in his arms, hoping to lend her his strength.

  Grant rose after adding another brick of peat to the fire and walked to Tory. Drawing her into his arms and placing a kiss on her forehead, he told her, “We have done all we can for the nonce. Now get you into dry clothes before you grow ill as well.”

  “My clothes dry on their own,” she started to protest.

  Duncan urged, “Make her leave, Grant. Do not take nay for an answer. We do not need her falling ill.”

  Tory saw there was no standing against both of them. Nodding, she allowed Grant to lead her from the room. She paused at the doorway. “Siobhán, promise you’ll fetch me if you need me?”

  Grant departed, dragging Tory who kept tossing one instruction after another over her shoulder with him. She shouted down the stairs, “Angus, fetch Duncan some ùsigue bethea,” before Grant closed the door to their chamber.

  Duncan leaned his head against Catherine’s. Her body bowed with another contraction, making him flinch in helplessness. He ran his hand along the top of her arm, murmuring words of encouragement. “I love you, lass. You are fine now. We are safe in our room.”

  Finally he could stand it no more. Catherine still hadn’t opened her eyes.

  “Please, Mo Chridhe. Fight for our bairn. For our love.”

  Catherine stirred, but didn’t waken.

  “Cat, please. I need you. I cannot be alone again, I was alone so long. I wasted years fighting with Da. I never would have reconciled with him had you not forced me. I need you, need your common sense. I spent so many years thinking no one loved me. Do not leave me now that I know you do.”

  He looked up as he realized Tory had returned. Tears streamed down her face. He glanced to see Siobhán crying as she headed toward the hearth. He didn’t care. Didn’t care if they’d overheard him, thought him weak.

  He needed Catherine.

  “Please, lass. I need you to awaken. Need you to forgive me for being daft enough to leave you in the beginning. I did not want to, you know. I wanted to stay with you, but feared you would leave me. I loved you from the moment I saw you—and I love you now. And now you shall leave me anyhow. Just when we find our way back to each other. Well, I will not allow it. Do you hear me, Catherine MacThomas? I order you to wake up.” Tears streamed down his face just like t
hey did Tory’s. “I order you to...”

  Catherine stirred, moaned, her eyelids fluttered open.

  Duncan buried his face in her hair. “Thank you, God. Thank you for bringing my Cat back to me.”

  Every hour or so Duncan went outside to breathe fresh air. “How do you do this?” he asked Grant. “How can you stand the uncertainty when Tory births her bairns? I am about to lose my sanity. There is naught I can do to help her through the pain. I feel useless.”

  Grant tried to reassure him, his face showing he searched for the right words. “I would tell you it gets easier with each child, but that would be lying. I worry about Tory every time she gives birth.” Breathing deeply, he continued, “Madden yourself not with worry. All you can do is pray. As Agnes once told me, ‘she is in God’s hands now—and that is the best place she can be.’”

  Duncan knew that was true, but it didn’t make waiting any easier. God held his precious wife in His hands. His to take home with Him or leave on earth with those that loved her. Walking back inside, he stared at his chamber door at another shout from Catherine.

  Many hours after they’d found her and she’d regained consciousness, Catherine gave birth to her son.

  When he let out a lusty howl, one of the men standing downstairs said, “He has the lungs of a wolf. He shall be strong and hale.” No one had any doubts it was a male child.

  Duncan sat behind Catherine on the bed, her body braced against his chest.

  “‘Tis a laddie,” Tory told Duncan as she tore off her underskirt and wrapped the baby in it. He laid Catherine gently to the bed, rose and paced his room. Tory handed the babe to his father, her face wreathed in a wide grin, then pushed the damp hair off her face.

  Tears rolled down Duncan’s cheeks. He cared not who saw him. “I have a son. God blessed me with another healthy bairn.” He offered up a silent, fervent prayer of thanks as he unwrapped the cloth and gently touched his son’s tiny toes.

  “I cannot wait to introduce him to his sister.” His eyes swung back to Tory. Nervously he asked, “And Cat? Is she...?”

  “She is weary from the exertion of childbirth, and the cold in the cave sapped her strength, but she fares fine,” Tory assured him, smiling. “Take the babe to his mother so she can see him. She worked hard to bring this tiny miracle into the world.”

  Duncan stood with mouth agape, not truly believing the wonder he’d just witnessed. He gazed in awe at the most magnificent sight he’d ever seen—his son’s tiny body wrapped in Catherine’s loving arms. This tender moment had been missing when Meggie was born. Her mother couldn’t wait to hand her over to the milk mother. That would never happen with his Cat.

  He closed his eyes and thanked God for sending Catherine into his life. Opening them again, he moved closer and sat beside his wife and son.

  He quickly turned to Tory. “What is wrong?”

  Tory frowned at his words. “Naught is wrong. They are both fine.”

  “Then why does my wife cry?”

  Tory laughed. “You dolt, ask her. She lies right beside you. But if I were to guess, they are tears of happiness.”

  “Happiness? That makes little sense.” He placed his hand lightly on Catherine’s arm.

  “What is amiss, wife?”

  Catherine hiccupped, trying to stop her sobs. “He is beautiful.”

  Duncan thought she’d lost her mind. “Aye, he is.”

  She reached up to draw him closer. “Duncan, I waited so long for this—and he is perfect.”

  Duncan played with his son’s toes. “Aye, my heart, he is. As are you.”

  Eyes alight with amusement that something so tiny could turn a mighty warrior slackjawed, Catherine told him, “Since I am certain you wish to show him off to everyone, make certain he is swaddled like Tory had him and take your bonnie wee son down the stairs.”

  “Aye,” Tory agreed. “Whilst I take care of your wife. I have things I must do to ensure Catherine heals properly. I want to keep her well covered to bring her body temperature back up. Her skin feels clammy and she shivers even though the room is hot. If I didn’t already know Erwin was dead, I would kill him for putting Cat through that. After I take care of her, she shall be more than ready to see you both again.”

  Duncan’s brows creased to a frown. “Will she be...? Is she...?” His gaze swung to Catherine’s. He reached out to take her hand. “Tory, please tell me...”

  “Duncan MacThomas, your wife will be fine. ‘Twill just take a little longer than normal. Now go, show off your son.”

  Duncan smiled as he rose and lifted his son into his arms. The wee laddie had surrendered to a peaceful slumber in his mother’s arms.

  Tory pushed him out the door, closing it firmly behind him.

  As soon as Duncan walked downstairs, everyone rushed forward.

  Grant smiled and rushed up the staircase. He called out, “Tory, are you well?”

  “Aye.” Her voice came on a sigh. “Tired, but fine.” Then she laughed. “Although after everything Cat has been through, I am not the one to complain about being tired.”

  Grant heard rustling inside the room, then Tory poked her head outside. Grant immediately wrapped his arms around her and held her close.

  She raised her eyes to his. “Cat is fine, but I have to go back inside. That monster put her life in danger. Sitting on the cave’s damp ground was too cold for her. She shivers still.”

  “Will she be okay?” He pulled her closer.

  “She and the bonnie bairn are fine. God willing, she and our dear friend, Duncan, shall have many years of happiness ahead of them.”

  Epilogue

  Two Years Later

  Catherine couldn’t believe it was almost Christmastide again. Like her friend Tory, she had a decorated tree in the Great Hall every year. She loved having the tree with tiny ribbons and nuts all over it. Candles were the perfect touch.

  Now she just had to figure out how to keep her two youngest children from pulling all the decorations down. Wee Alasdair thought it his lot in life to remove nuts from the tree and eat them, and since she was just learning to walk, Bláithin giggled while using the lower branches to pull herself up.

  More amazing, her children were already two and one. While they usually called him Alex, just like their friend, Alasdair was the apple of his father’s eye. As her name denoted, Bláithin was his little flower.

  Although she constantly ran after two tiny people, she and Duncan were pleased Tory’s herbal decoction had once again worked.

  Only Meghan left the tree alone. She was, after all, seven summers now, and to hear her tell it, “I am all grown up.” She delighted in helping Catherine look after her small brother and sister.

  Catherine smiled as she watched Meggie and Alex helping her carry fern branches inside to decorate the keep. Dropping the branches inside the castle door, she and Meggie took off their winter mantles and boots, shaking off the snow before they entered the Great Hall. Meghan had insisted, “I want a mantle just like Mam’s,” so Catherine happily sewed one for her. She left the boots to Duncan to obtain. While Meghan reached to hang their mantles on the wooden pegs, Catherine bent to remove Alex’s outerwear.

  Catherine already helped Meggie place ferns around the outside of the door. That had been Meggie’s idea. Catherine agreed, thinking it a wonderful addition. “Your da will be pleased, Meggie.” Unless they were getting into mischief, which was all too often, Duncan enjoyed anything his children did.

  Catherine wanted the castle to look perfect. Even though the weather made travel difficult this time of year, if her parents kept the promise they made several moons earlier, she expected their arrival the next day. Her mother wrote she had a surprise for her.

  It would make Christmas day perfect. She’d start the day with her entire family around her while they attended mass in their chapel. She couldn’t be more blessed on such a holy day. The celebration of the Christ child’s birth.

  Then, after they all enjoyed the Christmas feast
she had planned, the celebration would begin. She’d arranged for jugglers and tumblers to perform, then hoped everyone would join together and end the evening in song.

  Although they were making up for lost time now, Catherine was sorry for the time she wasted not believing Duncan loved her. She watched his every step as he entered the Great Hall and walked over to her. She smiled when he wrapped his arms around her and bent his head to kiss her. Ah, she loved this man.

  He turned her to face the tree, circling his arms around her waist. “The tree is beautiful, Mo Chridhe.” His breath fanned the nape of her neck as he brushed her hair aside and placed tiny kisses there. “But not as beautiful as you.”

  Catherine smiled a secret smile. Mayhap after everyone retired for the evening after Christmastide festivities were ended, Catherine would give him his last present.

  She’d tell her Highland rogue—her Highland destiny—he was going to be a father again.

  What a wonderful way to start the new year—with the promise of a new life. Thanks to God’s blessings, they would have a beautiful beginning to the rest of their life.

  About the Author

  Award winning author Leanne Burroughs lives in Florida with her husband of over 45 years. They have one daughter, one son and daughter-in-law—and the joys of their lives, one grandson and four granddaughters.

  Leanne loves to travel. While in Florida, she loves to visit Disney World—with or without the grandchildren as an excuse!

  Doing extensive research during her travels, her favorite place to visit is the United Kingdom—Scotland in particular. She loves the beauty of the country and the friendliness of its people.

  Norway and its beautiful countryside is another country she finds absolutely breathtaking, and can’t wait to write about its people and their past in her upcoming Viking saga.