TWO LAIRDS ONE LADY

by John Ryan

  “I will never understand ye, big brother,” Faolin averred, watching as Thayer removed the crown before placing it back upon Faolin’s head. “But, if there is one thing I can say about ye, Thayer,” Faolin professed warmly as he gave his brother a mighty hug. “Ye truly have the heart of a laird.”

  “Well, if these two lairds and a lady don’t make haste, they may commence the ceremony without us,” Thayer quipped wryly.

  A gentle rap at the door was followed by a tentative request. “M’lady, ‘tis Kathleen. I bear flowers from Lady Fiona.”

  “Please enter, Kathleen. The door is unlocked,” Elspeth replied.

  Kathleen nudged the door open but lingered in the doorway.

  “Dinna be afraid, lass. Show yourself,” Faolin bid.

  Kathleen nervously stepped forward, eliciting a gasp from Faolin.

  Her hair was golden as spun wheat and she had a face and figure to rival any of the royal gathering.

  “Just where have ye been hiding this lovely lass?” Faolin asked, a roguish twinkle in his eye.

  “I see ye learned your manners from your brother,” Elspeth retorted wryly. “Ye are a creature of habit. But in a few moments, ye will be a laird. If ye cannot manage to present yourself as a gentleman, I will have to inform ye as to what manner of creature ye truly are.”

  “M’lady, thank ye for your concern, but actually, I am rather flattered by Sir Faolin’s remarks,” Kathleen bespoke gently.

  “If that is the case, mayhap ye will do me the honor of accompanying me to my coronation,” Faolin murmured huskily.

  “Me?” Kathleen replied breathlessly.

  “Aye, lass. I’ll summon a chambermaid and we’ll see ye have something to wear as beautiful as ye.”

  “‘Twould be my honor, m’lord,” Kathleen replied with a fetching smile.

  Elspeth rolled her eyes. It seemed the MacCourt charm remained fully intact. Then again, wasn’t it the same charm she fell to?

  “Thayer, Elspeth, I’ll see ye at the coronation. I believe I will be otherwise engaged until then.”

  Thayer and Elspeth exchanged bemused glances. Hugging Faolin a final time, they took their leave and left the room.

  By the earnestness of Faolin’s attention to the lady, Thayer reflected that he wouldn’t be surprised if the fiefdom had a new queen before long. Temporarily diverted, he smiled when he felt the brush of Elspeth’s hair as she leaned her head against his arm. Gathering his arm around her, he held her close as they strolled merrily back to the family’s seat at the coronation.

  Chapter Thirty

  One year and two days later, Elspeth and Thayer were blessed with a hale and hearty son. Bromwell Colin Rhoenne MacCourt was endowed with his father’s crystalline blue eyes and his mother’s silken, magenta tresses.

  “Och, I believe your wee son has soiled himself!” Uncle Colin complained, wincing as he handed the gurgling, cooing baby back to Thayer.

  Elspeth bit her bottom lip to no avail; the laughter flowed freely.

  “Och,” Colin grumbled, “me wife always saw to me son’s changing. ‘Tis no manly task, I tell ye!”

  “Uncle Colin?” Thayer implored.

  “Aye, lad, what is it?”

  “As ye ken, Elspeth and I have entrusted ye with your namesake, should anything ever happen to us.”

  “Aye, I ken that, Thayer.”

  “And, we are family, right?” Thayer asked.

  “Of course, lad,” Colin averred while arching a skeptical brow.

  “And, ye ken that I would risk me very neck for ye, don’t ye, Colin?” Thayer added.

  “Aye. As would I,” Colin answered once more, suspicion rising in his voice.

  “Well, if ye would risk your life for me, would ye do me a wee favor such as changing little Bromwell Colin’s swaddling?”

  “Och, nae, Thayer!” Colin humphed. “‘Tis not fair, to be sure. I would just as soon charge into battle by your side than that! Is there no other way to prove my fealty?”

  Elspeth flicked a bemused glance at her husband. He answered with a wry smile.

  “I’m afraid not,” Thayer insisted, a smile curling his lips. ‘Tis your duty to do this doody.”

  “I cannot believe ye would make me do this, nephew!” Colin grumbled as he reached for little Bromwell Colin.

  Elspeth’s and Thayer’s cheeks reddened as they bit their lips in an attempt to stay the tears of laughter which now threatened to spew forth in torrents. Elspeth discreetly dabbed a tear which had slipped from her eye before Colin could see her do it.

  As Colin unfurled the mucky linen from around the baby’s bottom, he winced as if the points of a thousand dirks prodded him. The mighty battle-hardened Scottish warrior was quickly reduced to a whimpering milksop.

  Cautiously dabbing at the offending nether region with a moist swatch of wool, Colin grumbled, “Thayer, if I live to be five score, I shall repay ye for this!”

  Relief flooded Colin as he carefully placed the baby back into the cradling arms of his mother.

  “Now, that wasn’t so bad, was it, Uncle?” Elspeth petitioned.

  “I suppose not,” Colin replied as a broad grin split his beard in twain. “Well, I’ll leave ye two to your son.”

  “Goodnight, Colin,” Elspeth cooed as he bent down to receive her upon his cheek. It instantly flushed a deep crimson hue. As usual, he was putty in his favorite niece’s hands.

  As Colin turned to leave, he heard the baby begin to fuss.

  “Colin, I believe Bromwell Colin has soiled his diaper yet again,” Thayer said. “Since ye did such a fine job just now, would ye care to change it again?”

  “Och. Ye surely jest,” Colin grumbled before snatching the dirty linen from the table top and cramming it into Thayer’s hand. With his other hand, he ground the diaper into Thayer’s grasp until its mucky contents were forced out of the folds of its confines.

  “Goodnight, Thayer,” Colin exclaimed merrily. “I guess I didn’t have to wait so long for me revenge, eh?”

  Thayer replied in a mock scoff, “Nae, I suppose not.”

  Colin’s ebbing, bellowing laughter could be heard as it resonated along the great hall.

  “Well, m’love, I suppose Uncle Colin is right. The cleaning of a bairn’s bottom is not the work of a mighty Scottish warrior. Ye will just have to change each and every swaddling henceforth,” Thayer suggested as he studied his wife’s face for the response he knew was imminent.

  Elspeth’s brows knit as she turned to him, her eyes spitting emerald flames.

  “Forgive me, Thayer, did ye just say what I thought ye said?” Elspeth snarled, her tone piercing him.

  “Aye, ‘tis what I said,” Thayer confirmed as he rose to leave.

  After taking a few strides toward the door, Thayer whirled around, just in time to snatch the baby bottle Elspeth had just hurled at him.

  Breaking into a huge grin, Thayer turned to Elspeth and chortled, “I was just checking to see if my reflexes were any better than when I first met ye. Now, hand me the baby so I can change him properly.”

  About the Author

  When not engrossed in the creation of his next novel, or rapt in dreams of romance in the beautiful Emerald Isles, John shares his home in New York with a myriad of pets, several of them handicap, and the love of his life, Elizabeth, a Veterinary nurse.

  One of eight children, John credits his parents with stoking his interest in his Celtic heritage. His father, of Irish descent, passed prematurely from an illness attributed to his tenure in the New York City Fire Department. He was John’s living example of the Ryan creed, Death before Dishonor. His mother, a registered nurse, has Italian roots and has traveled throughout the world. She instilled in John a sense of wonder for faraway lands and exotic settings.

  An uncle to nearly 20 nieces and nephews, John finds great joy in being a part of their lives and hopes to be as fine an example to them as his character, Sir Thayer, in his debut novel, Two Lairds One Lady.

  A
cknowledgments

  To Elizabeth, my inspiration and soul mate. For encouraging me to follow my dreams, and for allowing only one of us to be crazy at a time.