MacGregor's Daughter_A Scottish Historical Romance Page 20

  At the moment, Drostan's attention was fastened on Wynda, a bonnie young village lass he had managed to maneuver into a corner. He whispered something in her ear, and she giggled. Then they were dancing around the room, his long fingers clutching her round hips. Hopefully, her da and three brothers were elsewhere. Alex was in no mood to hear their grievances. Not today. It was time. He could wait no more, knowing Ceana was his.

  He took her hand, and she looked up at him wide-eyed and innocent. His heart lurched in his chest. Never had he wanted anything as badly as he wanted Ceana at that moment. He motioned to Willie and Leith, who unlike Drostan, had been watching for Alex's signal. The two men slowly rose from their seats.

  Leith grabbed Drostan by the shirt as he danced past, and pulled him aside.

  Drostan looked over at Alex and nodded.

  Alex slowly rose from the chair, drawing Ceana up with him, and stepped down from the high table platform. That was when a swarm of people rushed toward them. "Run," he shouted to Ceana, as they raced across the room and out the great hall, toward the stairs.

  "What'll happen if they catch up with us?" she asked, concern in her voice.

  "You dinnae want to ken," he said, as his boot hit the first step. When they reached the landing at the top, he looked over his shoulder. The three men has succeeded in keeping the crowd at bay. Alex breathed a sigh of relief. "Ceana, call the lads."

  She raised a questioning brow but did as he asked.

  The dogs shoved past the people on the stairs, racing to their mistress' side, then followed them on to the laird's bedchamber.

  Alex opened the door. "Have them stay outside in the corridor. I dinnae want anyone surprising us by breaking open the door."

  She nodded. "Stay Duff, stay Ross," she told the dogs, who immediately obeyed.

  He drew her inside the room, his mouth finding hers even before he finished barring the door. "Lass, I want you," he whispered against her lips.

  "Aye," she said, sliding her arms around his neck and kissing him back.

  Alex sat down in the chair and pulled her onto his lap.

  Ceana trembled as he kissed his way down her neck and throat, to the deep cleft between her breasts, running his tongue over the top of each mound. Her body heated. She wanted more, much more.

  He removed one slipper, then the other.

  She shivered with delight, as his hand slowly traveled up her leg, to the top of her thigh, and she waited with eager anticipation for him to touch her there, but instead, he grinned most wickedly and began to remove her stockings, taking his time about it, until she thought she would die with want. Perhaps she could hurry him along a bit. She removed his clan badge and placed it aside, then tugged his shirt out of his belted plaid, and over his head. Heat swept over her like a river, as she ran her hands and mouth over his muscular chest and shoulders, reveling in their rock hardness beneath her fingers and lips.

  He began to unlace her bodice, and soon it lay on the floor beside the chair. He groaned as his gaze fell on the gossamer web that barely covered her straining breasts. After freeing them from the chemise, he cupped them in his hands, then lowered his head, slowly moving his tongue over each in turn.

  Ceana had never felt anything so wonderful, and she clung to him, wanting him to never stop. She unfastened the leather strap from his hair, leaving the black silk to spill around his face, over his shoulders, and her breasts, then slid her fingers into the cascading waterfall.

  He suddenly lifted his head, stood up and set her on her bare feet, then unfastened her skirts, leaving them to pool around her. "Saints above!" he exclaimed, as his gaze fell to the apex of her thighs, which showed clear as day through the thin fabric. He grasped the hem of the chemise, then slowly lifted it up her legs, over her stomach, breasts, and head, before tossing it aside, leaving her bare beneath his dark and heated gaze. "Never, in all my days, have I seen anything more beautiful than you, lass."

  Alex swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed, then stripped himself of his boots and belted plaid, before positioning himself between her velvety thighs. He kissed Ceana, as he slowly slid inside her.

  She tensed, as he broke through her barrier, which he knew had caused her a moment of discomfort.

  He stilled. "Relax, lass," he whispered against her lips.

  Ceana nodded and took a deep breath. "I'm well."

  Alex moved slowly, at first, but soon she was rising to meet him.

  She whimpered, clung to him, her nails digging into his back, as she fought to find her release, and Alex knew the moment she did, for he felt her tense, then shudder as wave after wave of pleasure racked her body. No longer able to control his own need, they rode out the storm together. Alex dropped down beside Ceana. He had been right about his wife. She was overflowing with passion, even more so than he has suspected. "I love you, Ceana."

  She smiled. "I love you, as well, husband."

  "Husband. I like the sound of that," he said, kissing her. His need for Ceana was intense, and he already wanted her again. But was it too soon? "Did you enjoy our lovemaking?"

  "Aye, very much so."

  Alex breathed a sigh of relief, not realizing he had been holding his breath while he awaited her answer.

  "Do married couples practice lovemaking often?" she asked innocently.

  "As often as they wish."

  "Then I wish it to be quite often."

  "What about now?"

  She nodded enthusiastically.

  Alex grinned. I'm a fortunate man, indeed, he thought, then proceeded to kiss her soundly.

  Epilogue

  Ceana inhaled the cool and windy October air, as she waited beside her Uncle Art to enter the kirk at Blackstone. To the north, gray clouds had been building all day, and rain was certain. But she was not about to fret over the impending weather, for today was her wedding day. Though she had truly been wed to Alex since the handfasting ceremony the past December, her parents would have wanted her to be wed in a church, and now she would be, as Alex had promised. They had meant to be wed in the spring, but Father MacTavish had been unable to return to Blackstone until now, due to his ailing health, and the year's numerous heavy rains.

  The bairn inside her stirred, and she placed her hands on her enlarged abdomen. Of late, it had been less active, which had given Ceana much cause to worry, but then it would move, and she would breathe a sigh of relief. The healer had told her it was at rest because her time was near, but still, she worried, and most likely would until she held the wee thing safely in her arms.

  Art grinned down at her. "Are you ready, lass?"

  She nodded.

  He opened the door and escorted her down the aisle, as her father would have done, had he been alive.

  Tears blurred her vision for a moment, then there was Alex, smiling before her. Galen, Sorcha, and their adorable twins, Aiden and Alie sat nearby. The wee lass's untamed curls were a fiery red like her mother's, the lad's hair, straight, and raven black, like his father's.

  After handing Ceana over to Alex, her uncle stepped aside.

  As Alex helped her kneel before the altar, she realized the lower portion of her abdomen suddenly felt heavy and uncomfortable. Of course, she was in an awkward position.

  He kept hold of her hand, while Father McTavish performed the ceremony. She hardly heard the words he spoke, as what started as an ache turned into a dull pain, drawing across her abdomen, peaking, and releasing, only seconds before another one began. Her face broke out in a sweat, and her breathing quickened.

  "Ceana, are you unwell?" Alex whispered, concern obvious in his voice.

  "'Tis the bairn, 'tis time," she whispered back.

  Alex looked up at Father McTavish. "Hurry it along, Father, or else the bairn will be birthed in the kirk."

  Father McTavish raised a bushy grey brow, then looked at Ceana. "Saints above," he said, then quickly finished the wedding. "I pronounce ye man and wife."

  Alex jumped to his feet, swept Ceana up in
his arms and ran for the door.

  Art came up beside him. "Is something amiss?"

  "Aye, the bairn is coming. Have someone fetch the healer, and send her to Ceana's bedchamber." Even though it was called such, she had yet to sleep there since the handfasting, for Alex could not bear the thought of not holding her in his arms while he slept.

  Sorcha was suddenly beside him, brushing his wife's damp hair away from her face. "How often are the pains, Ceana?"

  "But a few seconds apart," she said breathlessly, digging her nails into Alex's shoulder as another pain gripped her. He did not mind in the least, for he would do anything to make her pain more bearable.

  "Flora?" his sister shouted.

  "Aye, m'lady?" the maid said, racing up beside them.

  "Hurry to the castle and ready the bedchamber. The healer will be in need of your help as well."

  Flora nodded, then lifted her skirts and ran on ahead.

  Once they reached the upper floor, Sorcha opened the bedchamber door.

  Alex carried Ceana inside and gently placed her on the bed. He leaned down and kissed her pale, damp cheek. "The hard part will be over soon, lass." He prayed the birthing would go well, for he could not bear the thought losing her.

  She forced a smile and lifted her hand to his cheek. "I ken it will. Dinna fash yourself, my dear one."

  The healer entered the bedchamber, and took one look at Alex. "Out with ye, laird."

  He frowned. His wife needed him.

  Galen grasped his shoulder. "Come with me and Drostan. You could use a dram of whisky to calm your nerves, and I could do with one myself. Besides, Sorcha will be here with Ceana."

  Alex looked at Ceana. "Do you wish me to stay?"

  "As much as I love you, Alex. I need you to go with Galen."

  He looked at Sorcha. "You come get me should she need me."

  "Of course, I will, brother of mine. Now, go," she said, practically shoving him out into the corridor.

  Fear wrapped around his chest, threatening to squeeze the life out of him, as the door closed between them. He followed Galen to the solar. "When Sorcha was with child, I worried about her as well, even though, at the time, it was not known she carried twins."

  Galen nodded, as he poured them each a dram of whisky. "Aye, as I did. But thank the saints, she came through the birthing just fine, as will Ceana."

  Alex walked to the window and pulled back the covering. The sky had opened up and rain was pouring down. Already, tiny rivulets crisscrossed the countryside. "It might be some time before you make it back to Mull."

  "I dinnae mine. Neither will Sorcha, nor Aiden and Alie."

  He drew the covering back over the window, shutting out the dampness. "What do you think is going on in there." He looked at Drostan.

  His friend raised a brow. "You'll have to ask elsewhere."

  Galen snorted. "How should I ken? I was hurried out the same as you, but by Jillian."

  "Speaking of Jillian, how does she, Kade and the children fare?" Alex asked, keeping his gaze on the door.

  "I saw Kade about a month ago on Skye. He had Robbie with him. I cannae believe how that lad has grown."

  The door to the solar swung open, and Sorcha stuck her head in. "Would you like to see your bairn?" she asked, smiling.

  "Aye, and my wife," he said, hurrying from the room, with Galen and Drostan on his heels.

  Sorcha opened the door, and Alex followed her inside.

  Art stood at the foot of the bed, smiling, with tears in his eyes.

  Alex hurried around to the side of the bed.

  Ceana smiled up at him. She was pale and damp strands of hair curled about her face. A small bundle lay tucked in the crook of her arm, and as much as he wanted to see the bairn, first he had to make certain the woman he loved was well. He gently sat down on the edge of the bed. "I was worried, lass," he said, taking her small hand in his.

  She nodded. "I ken you were, but there was no need to be. I'm fine, as is your son."

  He grinned. "I've a son, an heir to Blackstone," he stated proudly, feeling as if his heart might burst at any moment.

  "We'll leave you to visit with the bairn." His sister herded everyone out the door and closed it behind them.

  "Would you like to see him?" Ceana asked softly.

  "Aye," he said, gently taking the wee bundle from her. He opened the blanket and gasped. He looks like me!" Alex exclaimed.

  She laughed. "He certainly does."

  Alex grinned. The babe not only had his black hair, but his facial features as well—only in miniature.

  He gently pressed his lips against his son's soft cheek, awed at his absolute perfection, from his button nose to his ten wee fingers and toes. And he was a part of them both. He swallowed back the lump in his throat. "Much thanks, lass, for giving him to me."

  Tears welled up in Ceana's eyes. "You're most welcome," she said, with a soft sob.

  "What shall we call the wee lamb?" he asked, his full attention on the lad.

  "I thought perhaps James, after my father, and Alexander, after his father." She waited for his response.

  He nodded, as a grin lit up his face. "Aye. James Alexander MacPherson 'tis."

  "And we'll call him Jamie."

  Alex cuddled the bairn against him. "What is it you think of your name, wee Jamie."

  Jamie chose that particular moment to start wailing.

  He chuckled. "'Twill grow on you, lad, I promise."

  With absolute joy, Ceana watched her husband cradling their son. A year ago, she had thought she would never be happy again. But fate had led her to Alex, and he had given her his heart, then captured her own.

  Author's Note

  The Clan MacGregor name was banned in the early 1600s after the clan killed more than 140 members of Clan Colquhoun near Loch Lomond. Following the battle, James VI forced the MacGregors to change their name or risk death.A royal warrant was signed by James VI on February 24, 1603, accusing the MacGregors of attacking members of Clan Colquhoun at Glen Fruin “without pitie or compassion” or regard for young or old. Their deeds were “barbarous and horrible” with this “wicked and unhappy” race to be “exterminat and ruttit out.” Less than two months later, James VI ruled the name MacGregor should be “altogether abolished."

  The clan retreated to remote areas of Scotland and were known as "Children of the Mist" Dogs were used to track them down, women were stripped, branded and whipped through the streets, and members were no longer allowed to travel in groups of more than four or carry a sharp knife. Anyone who killed a MacGregor could do so without punishment and even be rewarded. In 1784 the MacGregors were once again allowed to use their name and receive all the rights and privileges given to other British citizens.

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