“He is from a band of men who claim no clan. The poor sod admitted that they hoped ye and all the guard would leave to battle and they could come in and pillage the keep. Not a very good plan. They should know a laird never goes to war without first sending scouts.” Niven shook his head. “He is balling like a babe, now. Naked and trussed up like a pig. I almost feel bad for the young man.” Niven went to the side board and poured a generous amount of whiskey. Whatever he’d done to the boy bothered his friend more than he admitted.
Steaphan went to him and placed his hand on the man’s shoulder. “What do you think? I could speak to him, give him the opportunity to remain and work at the stable. He may run away after a time, but it will be long after his companions leave.”
Niven nodded, relief apparent. “He’ll need a few days to recover.”
“Move him into a chamber that can be locked. Have someone see to his wounds.”
Steaphan sat back just as one of the guardsmen came to the doorway. “Laird, another messenger arrives.”
He met Niven’s raised brows. “Who is it?”
“He claims to come on behalf of Laird McLeod.”
Immediately, the three of them rushed to the great room only to stop when recognizing the messenger. The man spoke with another of his guards, as they obviously knew each other.
“What say you,” Steaphan asked the man who approached at spotting him. “Is all well with your laird?”
“Aye, Laird. I come to give notice that he and Lady McLeod will arrive two days hence to remain and await the arrival of their grandchild.”
Steaphan let out a sigh before glaring at Niven, who fought to keep from laughing. “Aye, very well. Make yourself comfortable. Eat…er…drink.” He strode from the room to find Fiona.
His wife would be as ecstatic at the news as he was annoyed. The McLeods had a way of taking over. His father-in-law would insist on giving him advice on everything from the training of the guard to the way his crops grew. He let out a breath. In a way, he had to admit his father-in-law had filled the emptiness left from losing his own father.
He let out a resigned sigh. “Fiona!”
* * *
Once again, Ariana did not come to the morning meal. She’d assured Valent upon waking to be down shortly, but after a while, it was apparent she would not.
“What happens?” Valent rushed into the chamber to find Ariana abed, her face pale, her eyes watery. When he touched her face, it was cool to the touch. “I will send for a healer. You have been unwell for two days.”
She moaned and rolled to the edge of the bed, grabbing for the pail and threw up while he pulled her hair back and soothed her. “I am here.” He caressed her shoulders as she dry heaved.
“Oh, Valent, I feel horrible. I don’t want to die.” She began to cry and he climbed onto the bed, pulling her against him. His normally strong wife’s sobs caused an unbearably huge lump to form in his throat.
He could not fathom life without her. After losing everyone that mattered, he would surely die without her. “I will never allow it.” He cradled Ariana and kissed her salty cheeks. “Do not cry. You will feel worse.”
“It is not possible to feel worse,” she attempted to laugh. “All I want to do is lay in bed. I am hungry, but cannot keep food down. I feel so weak. I am so scared.” She clung to him and pushed her face into his chest.
For the first time since he was a boy, Valent was truly terrified.
Cook hustled in with a tray. Upon it, a chunk of bread and a cup of what looked like tea. “Mistress, you must eat. I had to see about you meself. The maid said you refused food again.” She moved to the edge of the bed and frowned down at them. “Whatever is the matter?”
“How can you ask that?” Ariana snapped at the maid. “I am dying. I cannot eat. I am weak as a kitten. I need a healer, not a hunk of dry bread and watery tea.”
To Valent’s shock, Cook smiled broadly.
“Do you take this lightly?” Valent glared at the woman. “My wife is very ill.”
Cook let out a sigh. “You are not ill, Mistress. You are with child. What you feel is normal for the first weeks of it.”
A deadly silence filled the room. Both Valent and Ariana stared wide-eyed at Cook, while the woman moved about the room seeming not to notice. “The bairn will arrive with the spring. Perfect time, if you ask me.” She tsked and removed the chamber pot and opened the window. “A bit of fresh air would help. The dry bread will settle your stomach. I also suggest you sit by the window. Sitting up should make ye better. The herbs in the tea should settle things.” She came to the bed and pulled back the blanket. “Come, milady, let me help you to the chair.”
Valent could not move, he only watched mutely as Cook helped Ariana. Upon sitting by the window with the chilled air upon her, his wife seemed to sag with relief. Cook placed a small blanket across her shoulders then brought a plate with a piece of the bread on it. “Eat slowly.” Ariana took a small bite and swallowed, then smiled brightly at Cook. “’Tis staying down.”
“Of course, it is.”
Valent came up behind the woman and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her jawline while the woman pushed him away.
“Laird, you will make my old heart stop.”
He laughed and met Ariana’s watery eyes. “We are going to have a bairn.”
“Can it be true?” Ariana replied with a wide smile, her eyes misting. “I can hardly believe it.”
“Of course, it’s true,” Cook mumbled leaving the room. “Young people.”
Valent kneeled in front of Ariana and took her hands, lifting them to his lips. “Can it be true?”
“Now that I think about it, I have not had my monthly courses. It did not occur to me.” She leaned forward and they pressed their foreheads together. “Valent, promise me you will stay with me always. I cannot fathom life without you.”
It was difficult to swallow past the renewed blockage in his throat. He let out a long breath and looked into her eyes. “I will love you always and be the best husband to you, a good father to our child, and a fair laird to our people.
“I love you.” She took the bread and put it to her mouth. “I am so hungry.”
He laughed and pressed his lips to her temple. “I will bring more.”
* * *
Darac Valent McKenzie was born on a bright spring morning. Valent had stormed into the room at Ariana’s first scream and remained steadfast beside her for the entire ten hours it took to bring the bairn to the world.
“He is beautiful is he not?” Ariana asked him for the tenth time. “So perfect our son.”
Son. The world vibrated in his chest each time she said it. Valent smiled and nodded as words had yet to form at the sight of the boy.
“He is our little miracle.” Ariana’s eyes fell and she fought to open them. “I am so tired.”
The nursemaid came close. “I’ll take the bairn, milady, so ye can rest.”
“Nay.” Valent finally spoke. “I will remain here with him until she wakes.” Somehow he knew. Ariana would not like waking to find her child gone.
“Verra well, Laird.” The nurse wrapped the child tightly and placed him in Valent’s arms. “I will be back in a bit. I must get rid of some of these cloths and wash up a bit.”
“Take yer time,” Valent replied. “You deserve it. Eat, I will remain here.”
After a relieved nod, the nursemaid shuffled out with a basket of cloths and such leaving them alone.
There was a knock at the door and David peered in. Valent motioned for him to enter. The lad looked to the babe. “A boy?”
“Aye yer brother,” Valent replied meeting the boy’s gaze. “Ye have a brother.”
“Brother?” David blinked attempting to keep from crying. “How can it be? I am but an orphan.”
“Nay you are our son and will continue to be treated as such. Now come and meet your little brother. I expect you to help him, protect him and teach him when I am not able to.”
“Aye Da.” The boy had called him that since four and Valent never corrected him. Now he felt the word sink in. It felt right.
After David left, the babe wiggled, but remained sleeping. Instinctively, Valent rocked to and fro as he moved to the window while keeping an eye the slumbering Ariana.
Through the window, he spied the landscape of his new home. Five and a half years and the view never ceased to fill him with pride. The villagers and farmers had survived winter well and new crops grew well.
Past the village, there was a large loch that provided water and fish. Food was plentiful and, for the time being, peace reigned in the region.
When Steaphan and Fiona came to visit and wish them well in the arrival of their first born, Ariana had joined Valent in hosting them. She and Fiona had become friends and had even visited.
Although his wife would not travel to the McLeods, she looked forward to their visits.
In the distance, a carriage made its way toward the keep. No doubt, it was Ceardac, Lily and their brood. A messenger had been dispatched as soon as Ariana’s labor commenced. If Lily was not informed of it, Valent feared she’d never forgive him.
“You are a treasure to many, wee Darac.” Valent looked to the babe. “Your life will be better and you will never know hardship. That I vow to ye. Your mother is a great woman who will love you fiercely as will I.” Valent swallowed hard.
“You will always know you are loved. I will tell you so. I love you, son.” Upon saying the words, a weight lifted from his chest and Valent took a deep breath. He smiled down at the boy who sighed in his sleep. Safe and secure.
Ariana fought not to sniff and let her husband know she overheard his speech. His beautiful words filled the room and, in that moment, she was so consumed with love, she feared her heart would burst from it.
The End.
Excerpt from
The Wolf of Skye
by Hildie McQueen
Chapter One
The quest to find the well brought Faolan Mackinnon far from his beloved Skye. He’d traveled for many days on the foolish idea that if he found the well and cast his wish upon it, the fair Moira, his true love, would finally be his forever.
As a second born son, he had neither title to offer nor lands and because of it, his father, the laird Mackinnon, had betrothed Moira to his older brother, Ewan.
In a fortnight, the marriage would take place so he’d left prior to the hand fasting ceremony, unable to stomach being present. Faolan rode away on a solitary quest, with his guts churning and heart in pieces.
Now, as he neared a small village just south of Moy in the western Highlands, it was late in the evening and his stomach grumbled in anticipation of a hot meal. He reckoned a warm bed to follow would be quite nice as well. Mentally calculating the coin in his purse, Faolan decided it was worth it. He’d hire a room for the night and a place in the stables for his horse. After all, the well could not be very far from there. According to the stories his grandfather had told to him, he had to be very close to finding it.
The inn was noisy and quite busy. The villagers, it seemed, enjoyed a good drink, lively music and company on cold nights. The din of the conversations over the music accompanied by clinking of tankards lifted his spirits and soon Faolan found himself sharing a table with a local man who introduced himself as Paden Grant.
Paden, who seemed to be about the same age of his eight and twenty, studied Faolan constantly, his gaze full of curiosity at hearing about his quest. “Surely you cannot think that wishing upon that old well will bring the woman to you?” The man lifted his tankard and drank deeply before continuing. “’Tis said it will bring true love, but I do not think it will always be the person of your choosing.”
“She is the only woman I will ever love. I am sure of it.” The words felt strangely hollow, but Faolan refused to allow the feeling to linger. “Have you wished upon it?”
“Nay, nor have I ever sought it,” Paden said with a chuckle. “I have enough on my hands trying to keep my troublesome sister from mischief. The last thing I need is another woman to worry over. It may not exist, but a tale.”
“The lass is a feisty one, eh?”
“Quite so.” Paden leaned back and scanned the tavern. “She’s about somewhere in here. Is refusing to speak to me because I’ve decided to marry her off.”
Faolan looked about the room, searching for someone who favored his new friend. Paden was fair of skin with dark brown hair and light eyes. It was hard to tell in the dimness of the room, but probably a greenish hue.
Clapping commenced and two men assisted a lass onto a tabletop. The musicians began playing a happy tune. People cheered as the lass danced, her arms in the air and feet making quick work. With a riot of red hair and a bright smile, she turned in circles in time to the music.
Faolan could not help notice what a lovely creature she was, with full size breasts, small waist and angelic face.
Still dancing, her bright smile faltered when Paden got to his feet. “She’ll be the death of me.” His new friend rushed to the table, plucked the lass from the tabletop and set her upon the floor. “Go home, Catriona, and see about that unruly mess of hair.” The crowd booed at Paden, but he ignored them.
“I will not.” She rushed to the table where Faolan sat and plopped down onto Paden’s empty chair. With a pout, she lifted Paden’s tankard and drank deeply.
“Catriona,” Paden growled, then gave up. He dragged another chair over and sat. “Why do you insist on being foolish?” Her brother took the tankard back while she gifted him with a broad smile.
“I love you, brother of mine, but you are much too serious.” She had a melodious voice that matched her beauty perfectly. Instead of sitting upright and still as any lady should, she rocked side to side in time to the music. “I love this tune.”
Paden looked to Faolan. “Do you see now why I cannot marry as of yet?”
“Aye,” Faolan replied only to garner a glare from Catriona who just then seemed to notice him. Her face reddened and she blinked several times while studying him. “Who are you?”
“Catriona,” Paden motioned to Faolan. “This is Faolan Mackinnon of Skye.”
“Skye really?” She leaned forward inspecting him as if he were the most interesting thing. “Truly?”
“Aye.” Faolan’s throat became dry and his heart beat faster. “Have you been there?”
She shook her head slowly and then looked to Paden, who studied them both. “Is this he?”
“What are you referring to sister?” Paden motioned for a tavern woman to come and refill their drinks. “I have no idea what you speak of.”
The lass narrowed her eyes at Faolan. “It is you. I know it.”
“Who do you think I am?”
“Fine, continue to play this silly game.” She huffed and got to her feet. Her gaze on Faolan, she lifted an eyebrow as if in challenge. “Do not expect me to become a wilted lolly who will do every one of your biddings.”
“I would never expect that of you lass,” Faolan said truthfully. He rather liked her nature and hoped no one would ever try to change her.
She turned to her brother. “Very well then. Bring him along. I’ll do it.”
Both he and Paden exchanged questioning looks and then waited for Catriona to elaborate. Instead, she laughed at something someone said to her and clapped to get everyone’s attention. Someone motioned to the musicians and the music ceased. The crowd quieted.
The slender lass climbed onto the chair and held her arms out as if welcoming the room. “Attention everyone. My lout of a brother has decided to marry me off.” She waited for the hisses and boos to end before continuing. “Hence forth, I will soon be married to Faolan Mackinnon, the Wolf of Skye.” She motioned to him with much fanfare and the entire room focused on him with eager expressions. Obviously she’d used the Celtic meaning of his name to garner a reaction from the crowd.
Paden let out a groan and shrugged when Faolan looked to him for hel
p.
The silence lingered until finally Faolan got to his feet and lifted a hand. The room erupted in cheers and tankards were lifted in toasts. A group of men rushed over and lifted Faolan onto their shoulders, carrying him around the room as the music resumed.
When he was brought back to the table and dropped onto the chair, drinks were shoved into Faolan’s hands and more than one man clapped him on the back calling him courageous.
Catriona watched with arms crossed and a triumphant look as an older man approached. “Foolhardy if you ask me. No one would marry the lass; she’s a good girl but much too strong-willed for her own good. If it were not for the announcement, I’d advise you to run and go as far as possible.” The man shook his head and placed a bottle of whiskey on the table. “This may help.”
The minx’s lips trembled with barely controlled mirth as she eyed the whiskey. “Looks like ye’re the townsmen’s new hero. This will keep the single men from having to figure out how to tell my brother they will not marry me.” She tossed her hair back off one shoulder and cocked her head to the side. “And those who are married are relieved not to have to worry about one of their sons being saddled with me.” She leaned forward and peered intently at him. “A silent one are you?”
“Ladies and gents,” the old man cried out and the room quieted. “Let us hear from the groom to be.” The man motioned for Faolan to come to stand at the bar.
Faolan looked to Paden, whose eyes were round as saucers. “Will you go in my stead and explain the mistake?”
“Come along now bridegroom,” Catriona insisted as she tugged him toward the front of the dimly lit room. “Tell these fine people why you’re so smitten with me and cannot wait to be my husband.” When he met her gaze, just for an instant, he spotted uncertainty. It was barely discernible, quickly hidden by a raised brow of challenge. The minx expected him to come up with an excuse, to rush through the speech, admit it to be a mistake and then run like a coward.
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