After the Storm

by Tia Isabella

  Thomas blinked rapidly, unable to think up a reply to that assertion. So she thought him a primitive, eh? He smiled seductively at his wife and grabbed two fistfuls of her golden hair. “Ye dinna mind me a savage when I take ye tae my bed,” he growled.

  Maya hesitated, then wrapped her arms around her husband’s waist and smiled up at him. “I didn’t mean to yell—really I didn’t!” she countered when he threw her a skeptical glance. “But Thomas, so much good can come of Argyle and Harold’s trip.

  “They can bring back medicines that work true wonders. They can bring back silks, velvets, and spices that cost a man a king’s ransom in your day but can be bartered for almost nothing in mine. They can bring back things that will make our lives easier, Thomas. And,” she sighed, stopping to take a breath, “they can bring back Sara’s father.”

  Thomas pondered all that his wife said. He released the fistfuls of hair he’d procured and pointedly scratched his chin. He knew that his wife was right and that everything she had said was logical. He couldn’t risk losing her and his bairn in childbirth unnecessarily. He’d die without the sharp-tongued little witch in his bed.

  Still, Thomas felt the desire to goad his wife’s temper a wee bit, to pay her back for that remark about his lacking in intelligence. “Hmm, fine silks and spices ye say?”

  Maya huffed and hit him squarely in the chest. “Of all I just said, it’s only the silks and spices that concern you? What of our unborn baby? What of—”

  “Hush, love,” Thomas grinned. “I was only jesting.”

  Maya shook her head, then grinned back. “Promise?”

  Thomas chuckled as he pulled her into his arms once more. “Ye know I canna possibly turn down yer request does it mean Sara’s father can bring our babe intae the world safely. The silks and spices are but an added boon, love.”

  Maya smiled as she stood up on tiptoe to kiss her husband’s chin. “I think you’ve had enough of my temper for this evening and to be honest, it’s probably the most you’ll see of it for a while.” She yawned. “It exhausts me too much these days.”

  “And here I thought the added boon would be the silks.”

  “Be quiet, sweetcakes.”

  “Aye, love.”

  Chapter 23

  Maya was as good as her word. Over the next few weeks, she didn’t show her temper once. Of course, whether that boon was because she was too tired to do so or whether ‘twas because the MacGregor had been catering to his pregnant wife’s every whim, no one could say. She was three months along, so not yet showing, but the laird was still beyond happy.

  Everyone at Castle MacGregor was glad for the change for it put the laird in a fine mood. After all, ‘twas common knowledge that when the Lady Maya was happy, the laird was elated. When his lady was feeling ill, he was in a restless state of worry. When the Lady MacGregor was angered, the MacGregor was as crazed as a mad animal. His moods always mirrored the mistress’ to the extreme.

  “Sorry about that.” Maya rose to her feet and turned toward the throng of worried faces surrounding her. She clasped her hands behind her back and smiled sweetly up at her husband, Harold, and Argyle. At their returning grins, she glanced toward Sara and Dugald. “What’s the matter? Have you never seen a pregnant woman throw up before?”

  Sara laughed when she noticed the flustered look written all over her betrothed’s face. “I’d wager he hasn’t, darling. But then you do seem to throw up with the same gusto and flair with which you do everything else in life…never seen a woman turn five shades of purple before losing her breakfast before.” She winked mischievously at Maya, getting the desired grin out of her. “I can hardly wait to see you in birthing.”

  Maya abruptly stopped grinning—and paled.

  “Oh dear, I didn’t mean to…that is I…” Sara sighed, unable to find the proper words.

  Maya held up a palm. “Forget it. We’ll get your father here in time to see to me and to your wedding.” She cocked her head and smiled up at Argyle and Harold. “I’ve every confidence.”

  “As tae that,” Thomas began, indicating with his gesture that the group should resume its walking now that his lady’s belly was feeling better, “I believe ye were aboot tae discuss the black clouds, were ye no’, Lady Sara?”

  Sara cleared her throat before addressing Thomas. “I’d feel much safer if we left these trees and talked in the open where we can be certain no one is eavesdropping. Do you agree, my lord?”

  Thomas nodded then led the crew of six from the cover of the forest to head toward the loch downhill.

  It was the third time in as many weeks that he had let Maya and Sara stroll beyond the confines of the castle with the men and they were both deeply grateful to him for it. Thomas still made it plain that Maya was never to wander without his permission and presence and she never tried to gainsay him. Now that she knew his reasons had everything to do with keeping Robert MacAllister from kidnapping her and nothing to do with a fear of her running from him, confinement didn’t seem to be such a burden.

  It having been decided by the MacGregor that both Harold the Sotted and Argyle would venture into the future, the group of six used their weekly stroll as a chance to speak of their plans in privacy. Today they walked into the outskirts of the forest to take a short-cut to the loch below it. It was beautiful to the ladies, the two of them never having seen it before. The trees were the greenest they had ever beheld, their scent balmy and wintry.

  “Here we are ladies.” Harold turned around and proffered a courtly bow. He and Argyle shook out the plaids and animal pelts they had carried from the keep and lowered them to the ground next to the pit that had been dug out to house a campfire in a fortnight ago.

  “Dugald, let us start the fire anon.” Thomas ordered. “‘Tis tae cold fer the ladies and my bairn.”

  Dugald inclined his head toward Maya and Sara then set off toward Thomas to help kindle the flames.

  The women busied themselves with the preparation of their picnic meal. They set out all of the foods cook had bundled up for them, including an assortment of cheeses, two different kinds of breads, grouse, and a plump apple for each of them.

  Maya beamed an ear to ear smile her best friend’s way. Sara grinned back. Both of them loved these weekly outings. There was nothing quite like a leisurely promenade through a Scottish forest capped off by a picnic next to a picturesque Highland loch. Even if it was colder than she didn’t know what.

  Thomas strode back to his wife’s side and settled himself down to the left of her. He took her hand and warmed it between his own. “Are ye warm enough, my lady, or do ye need more furs?”

  Maya rolled her eyes teasingly and grinned. “I already feel bundled enough. I think the four you have me in now are more than sufficient.”

  He grunted. Intertwining his large callused fingers through his wife’s smaller silky ones, he placed their clasped union on his thigh.

  Argyle plopped himself down on the other side of Maya. He thanked her for the food she offered him, then licked his lips and dug in—a new phrase of Tampa English he’d recently acquired. “Milady, I daresay I am more nervous and excited than I get even afore a fine battle against the bluidy MacAllisters. This time travelling business is a fine quest indeed.”

  Maya grinned. “Just don’t get anxious when the colors bind you like ropes and carry you off of the ground. I almost died from the shock of it.”

  Sara snorted her agreement.

  “I was never a’feared,” Harold announced. He scratched his beard and scowled at his own recollection. “Of course, I was also in me cups at the time.”

  The group laughed, inciting a chuckle from the Sotted. “Aye, this could prove tae be more interesting sober.”

  Thomas shook his head and grinned. He popped a wedge of cheese into his mouth and swallowed it whole. “Well then Lady Sara, as ye were aboot tae say in yon forest…”

  Sara cleared her throat as Harold plopped down next to her. The six of them were now huddled around th
e fire in a full circle. “Maya and I have done every theoretical and mathematical calculation that exists from our time on the information we gathered from Harold’s travels and our own.” At a bunch of perplexed male grunts, Sara clarified her statement further. “We, uh, we think we’ve figured the clouds out.”

  She plowed on since no one grunted again. “We know that in the future the black clouds have remained unseen for the most part because they are covered in the guise of a ferocious storm. In other words, they tend to accompany the storm.”

  “We also know,” Maya added, “that the MacGregor lands themselves are the portal to the black clouds. It is here that the clouds originate and nowhere else.”

  “How can ye be certain?” Thomas asked.

  She shrugged. “Sara and I have studied every ancient civilization imaginable and the MacGregor Highlander clan is the only one that ever wrote of these mysterious clouds. Believe me, had it happened in other lands, someone would have recorded it.”

  Dugald nodded his head, agreeing with their conclusion. “’Tis a highly reasonable assumption, my ladies.”

  “Yes,” Sara added, “and furthermore, the clouds on MacGregor soil do not need a storm to give them the energy to brew. They are powerful here, very powerful. Thomas, did you not say that your man Hamish saw the clouds many times without so much as a hint of a storm approaching?”

  “Aye.”

  Maya nodded. “Well then, there you have it.”

  “But my ladies,” Argyle prodded, deciding he wasn’t feeling altogether surefooted of their plan anymore, “how will we know when ‘tis time if there is no storm tae warn us?”

  Maya threw an unruly curl over her shoulder then smiled reassuringly toward Argyle. “We will wait for reports from Hamish. He doesn’t know why Thomas has requested it of him, but he does know to inform him the very moment the clouds appear. It will work. I know it will.”

  Harold nodded in acceptance of Maya’s theory. “And tae get home we can do naught but wait. ‘Tis our good fortune that Tampa has many storms a year tae warn us, so we willna ha’ tae return with as little preparation as we are tae go off with.”

  Sara nodded her head vigorously. She then cocked her head toward Harold and smiled. “Probables say you are correct. The reason more people from our time have not ended up on MacGregor lands is no doubt because most would not be so foolish as Maya and I to walk along a beach during an approaching hurricane.”

  The men laughed as they ate, agreeing wholeheartedly with Sara’s appraisal of the situation. Thomas glanced down at his wife and winked. “Foolish, aye, but I canna say I’m sorry for it.”

  Maya grinned at her husband. “Now then Argyle, Thomas has agreed to shorten your time in the lists each day so that Harold, Sara, and I can continue to instruct you in Tampa English.”

  Argyle swallowed a bite of apple then nodded. “Aye. And if I do say so myself, milady, I think ‘tis coming along well. I shall be able tae converse with yer people within the sennight.”

  Thomas grunted. “I think that when ye come back lad, I will ha’ ye instruct yer laird in this future tongue. I should like tae know the words my lady says when she’s sore at me rather than being left tae guess.”

  Argyle raised his fist to his mouth and coughed uncomfortably into it. “I think ye would no’ want tae know, my lord,” he muttered.

  Maya flushed, piercing him with a scowl. “Keep quiet, Argyle!”

  “Aye mila—”

  “Nay Argyle, dinna,” Thomas commanded. “I assume ye are talking aboot that morn tae fortnights ago when my wife stomped from the great hall spewing something or another aboot me in her tongue?”

  Argyle studied the animal pelts below him. He sighed apologetically. “I’m sorry milady, I was no’ thinkin’. I dinna mean tae be what yer future people might call a tattletale.”

  Sara laughed. “It’s alright, Argyle. Your lord and lady are no longer fighting.” She looked over to Thomas and grinned. “I’m sure the MacGregor can forgive being called”—she reverted to Tampa English and giggled—“a cock sucker.”

  Harold choked on his tankard of goat’s milk, the whites of his eyes turning red from too much coughing. “I canna say I remember that, lass. This must ha’ happened whilst I was still in me cups.”

  “Yes!” Maya scowled at no one in particular. She folded her arms across her chest defensively.

  “My curiosity overwhelms me, milady,” Dugald chuckled, “I canna ken what those words mean.”

  “Aye wife,” Thomas drawled through narrowed eyes, “I dinna ken what they mean either.” He glared at Maya, waiting for her answer. “Do ye care tae tell me, love?”

  “No!” she fumed, the smell of fear growing closer by the moment. She threw Argyle a look that promised retribution.

  He winced in reaction, cowering even further into the animal pelts. “Beg pardon, milady, but I vow tae make it up tae ye.”

  “How!”

  “When we know we are tae come back, the Sotted and I will stop at yer favorite dining hall and bring back those Big Macs and fries that I sometimes hear ye cry o’er in yer sleep afore I fetch ye tae break yer fast each morn.”

  Maya looked thoughtful, as if considering Argyle’s proposition to forgive him or not. “And a chocolate milkshake?” she muttered.

  “Aye.”

  “And coke. You cannot forget the damn coke.”

  “I will no’ ferget it, milady.”

  Maya inclined her head in acceptance of his terms. “Very well. Then I forgive you for whatever punishments I am to receive when you translate my words for my husband.”

  Thomas arched an eyebrow. “’Tis that bad?”

  “Well I don’t think so,” Maya countered, trying to ply him with a beguiling smile that he immediately recognized as false. “But you like to hand out punishments over any little offense.” She waved her hand in the air with a disapproving gesture, a gesture her husband knew to mean she was feeling defensive. “You’re always wanting to send me to my chamber over trifles.”

  “Well,” Thomas replied as he leaned back on his hands, “then tell me Argyle. Translate my wife’s words that I may see do I find them tae be trifles.”

  Argyle cleared his throat nervously, pleading with his lady through rounded eyes to forgive him. “A cock—”

  “Argyle please!” Maya begged. “Say no more!”

  “Argyle ye will continue,” the MacGregor instructed.

  “Aye, my lord. As I was saying, a cock—”

  “Wait Argyle!” Maya jumped to her feet and pleaded with her husband. “Can I at least have a running head start, Thomas? The castle doors are within sight! Your men will see me coming. Sara will go with me. Won’t you, Sara?”

  “Of course,” Sara answered, trying to conceal her amusement over Maya’s panic.

  Thomas knit his eyebrows together and scowled at his wife. “Nay, woman, ye will stay beside me whilst I hear Argyle’s words.”

  “Please!” Maya implored, deciding that she wasn’t above groveling. “Grant me this one request and I will not ask for another for a very long time!”

  Thomas deliberated in silence for the longest moment of Maya’s life before he relented. “Fine.” He flicked his wrist toward the keep. “Go.”

  Maya breathed a sigh of relief then grabbed Sara’s hand and dashed with her from the encampment. Dugald shook his head and laughed while he watched his mistress run as if the demons of hell were nipping fast at her heels. “I canna wait tae hear the meaning of this, Thomas. It canna be so bad as that.” He swept his hand in Maya’s direction to emphasize his meaning.

  Thomas shook his head. Certainly her words couldn’t have been displeasing enough to warrant her running off. The laird chuckled to his self then nodded to Argyle. “Pray continue, lad. Tell us what it means tae be a ‘cock sucker’.”

  * * * * *

  “For heavens sake, Maya, would you slow down? I’m about to fall.” Sara came to an abrupt halt, forcing Maya to do the same since they w
ere holding hands.

  “Please Sara, let’s hurry. I want to bolt the bedchamber door against him!”

  Sara chuckled, the effort to do so considerable as she struggled to catch her breath. “Look behind you. The men are clear back there.” She motioned with her hand toward the loch. “And the castle doors are within walking distance.”

  Maya sighed in resignation. “You’re right. He can’t possibly catch—”

  “Maya!”

  Maya winced and turned toward the loch when she heard the bellowing war-cry ripped from her husband’s throat. Thomas was a good distance away, but was running toward her faster than a charging bull. “I don’t think I’ll be walking the rest of the way!” she squealed as she picked up her skirts and fled toward the keep.

  Sara blew out a labored breath and plopped down onto the grass to wait for Dugald to catch up to her. She grinned at the hilarious sight of the laird charging up the hill like a madman. Damn, but she wished she had a camera! This was definitely turning out to be a Kodak moment.

  * * * * *

  “Whose…the…bluidy…cock…sucker…Maya?”

  Thomas spoke between thrusts as he pounded his swollen flesh into his wife from behind. She was taking him on all fours, moaning as he pummeled into her sticky flesh like a battering ram.

  “Oh god, Thomas!” she screamed in pleasure. “I am! I am!”

  She threw her head back and succumbed to the most intense orgasm her husband had given her to date. There was nothing more delicious than a six foot five, two-hundred fifty-pound laird with a proportionately huge penis who was hell bent on proving his manhood.

  Thomas waited for his wife’s release then pulled his shaft out of her and flipped her onto her back. He brought his cock to her lips and demanded entry with a raspy command. “Prove it.”

  Maya peered into his glazed over eyes and smiled wantonly up at him. “Yes, my lord,” she murmured.

  She opened her lips and swirled her tongue around the tip then bade him to come in the rest of the way. Thomas grunted as he lowered the head of his manhood into his wife’s mouth, easing it in as slowly as possible.