Abigail resumed her ministrations after meeting the clan’s healer, Naida. The woman appeared with a basket full of medicinals after the women left the keep’s storerooms. She tsked several times as she examined the men Abigail had already sewn, making Abigail narrow her eyes before the women turned a warm smile to her, praising her work. Abigail learned the woman quietly scolded the men for getting injured, not for the quality of Abigail’s work. The patients who were conscious smiled at the older woman, clearly used to her clucking at them. Bethea joined Abigail and Naida as they saw to the injured. The uninjured, unmarried men, after reuniting with their parents, joined the three women’s efforts by cleaning and bandaging wounds that didn’t require serious examination.
The MacKinnons spent hours helping one another. The quiet sense of kinship filled the Great Hall as women served platters of food and children dashed back and forth to refill waterskins. The victorious euphoria waned as everyone set about their various tasks, but the peacefulness that came from surviving the attack also brought a sense of calm. The grieving huddled together as families gathered around them, offering solace. Abigail hadn’t experienced an attack on her home since she was a child too young to understand the significance of the aftermath. Kieran and his men often rode out to prevent such events, engaging in skirmishes far from their home. Even when she’d helped tend the returning injured, she’d lacked empathy at the time. She’d barely mustered sympathy. But as she looked around the Great Hall, her heart broke for those who had no joyous reunion and for the men who would soon join the angels. It gave her purpose to work harder to heal the men stretched across the tables. She, Naida, and Bethea worked well into the night while Ronan met with the families who lost warriors and arranged funerals, investigated the damages to the keep, and inventoried the weapons.
Angus, Clyde, and Ronan examined the barracks’ smoldering remains. He’d bent over and heaved when Angus let it slip that Abigail was in the building when it caught fire. The older man passed him a flask of whisky, which he gulped down as he forced his mind to rid itself of the idea of recovering Abigail’s charred body from the ashes. They accounted for all his men, those who survived and those who didn’t, so they knew no one else was in the building when the roof ignited. The carpenters and masons would set about rebuilding the bachelor warriors’ quarters the next day. Until then, the men would bunk down in the Great Hall or with family.
The stars twinkled overhead in a cloudless sky by the time Ronan reentered the Great Hall. Abigail stood talking to Maisie, who was nodding at whatever instructions Abigail gave the head cook. Maisie smiled at Ronan before disappearing into the kitchens. Abigail turned to see who Maisie had been looking at. Ronan noticed the shadows under Abigail’s eyes and how her shoulders drooped with fatigue, but her smile was radiant when she spied Ronan approaching.
“Abby, I could have lost ye today,” Ronan whispered, his throat tightening. Abigail knew he’d learned that she’d been in the barracks. Her smile dimmed as she nodded. Their hands clasped as they came to stand before one another. “What happened? Angus could only tell me that ye ran into him as ye fled the smoke.”
“I secured the women and weans into the storage rooms and the granary before I realized none locked from the inside. I dinna trust ma keys to anyone but Bethea, Angus, Maisie, and I suppose Clyde. I was going to hide in the undercroft, but the arrows started landing in the bailey. I’d spoken to Angus earlier, so I’d been into the armory. I suspected it connected to the barracks. I kenned the MacLeods would search the armory if they entered the bailey, but I figured they’d assume the barracks were empty and ignore it. I ran into one of the chambers and hid under the bed. I heard the bells tolling that ye’d returned. But it wasna long after that, that the building started to smell smoky.”
“Angus said ye got out only moments before the roof caved in. Why didna ye hide when the other women did? Or why nae go to our chamber?”
“There was too much to do, and I couldnae bring maself to hide in the comfort of our chamber while the others huddled in freezing, dark holes in the ground. It didna seem right.”
Ronan pulled Abigail into his embrace, still shaken from discovering how close she had come to death. He recalled seeing her on the battlements as he ran past. Without letting go, he asked, “What aboot when I saw ye on the wall walk?”
Abigail tightened her arms as the rumble of Ronan’s voice against her chest felt steady and reassuring. “That was after I came out. The fire made me think aboot burning the boats. I insisted Angus take me up to Timothy. I’d asked aboot the oil and whether Timothy could hit the birlinns when ye went past. Timothy and Angus warned me ye’d be furious, but I stayed up there until I kenned ye could get the oil.”
“I should be raging against yer recklessness, but I’m too damn relieved that ye’re alive. Abby, I dinna ken if I could live without ye. Ye’re everything to me.”
“That’s how I felt kenning it was practically a blizzard where ye trekked then kenning ye were fighting. I thought I would be ill when I saw ye caked in blood and dirt. Nae because of the filth, but because I kenned ye came to look like that because ye fought for yer life. I couldnae tell if any of the blood was yers.”
“Some of it is.” At Abigail’s gasp and her attempt to pull away, Ronan cooed to her. “Just nicks and scratches. I’ll have some almighty bruises by morn, but I wasna injured like some.”
“Ma lady, ma laird,” Bethea said quietly as she approached. “I’ve sent a bath up to yer chamber. Will ye eat down here, or would ye rather Maisie sends up a tray?”
“Down here,” Abigail and Ronan answered together. Bethea offered a maternal smile of approval.
“Ma lady, I dinna ken if yer gown is repairable.”
Abigail looked down at her clothing for the first time all day. Smeared ash covered her skirts from the knees down. Embracing Ronan covered her bodice and back with mud and sweat, and blood had splattered from the many wounds she tended. She had to agree with Bethea.
“I’ll have the laundresses salvage what they can, then it can be cut down to rags.” Abigail saw no point in wasting the fabric. She might not wear the gown again, but the fabric was still in serviceable condition. She realized that a younger version of herself would have dumped the gown in a corner for someone else to dispose of, and not thought twice about it. “When will Maisie serve the meal?”
“An hour and a half, ma lady.”
“Thank ye, Bethea.” Abigail and Ronan made their way to their chamber. When the door closed behind them, they fell into one another’s arms again. The kiss contained a hunger they’d restrained in front of their clan members, but the privacy their chamber offered unleashed it. They tore at one another’s clothes until they stood naked. Ronan lifted Abigail, and as when Ronan returned from the battle, she wrapped herself around him. He stepped to the door, pressing Abigail’s back against it. He thrust into her, aggressive and determined.
Abigail moaned with pleasure as the sensation of being filled with Ronan’s cock nearly triggered her release. They moved together, savage desire making their coupling rough. Abigail’s heels dug into the small of Ronan’s back as she held on. Ronan thrust into his wife over and over, unable to get enough, her moans urging him on. While the pleasure that came with release was always eagerly anticipated, this joining was about feeling the connection between their bodies, proving they were one, possessing as well as being possessed.
Abigail’s back banged against the door as she encouraged Ronan to continue pounding into her as she rocked along his length. The feel of being pressed against the door, the virility that Ronan’s desire held, and the possessiveness that came with his forceful movements spurred her on. He was claiming her, and she welcomed it. Their need wasn’t just for the physical. It was for their very souls. Grinding their pelvises together pushed them over the precipice, making them shatter in one another’s embrace. When Ronan eased Abigail to the floor, she covered her belly with her hands. Ronan’s eyebrows shot up.
“Do ye think ye are…” He couldn’t finish the thought.
“I hope so, but it’s too soon to ken. But I could be. I want to be.”
“Ye want a bairn?” Ronan whispered.
“Nae ‘a.’ Ours. Every time ye pour yer seed into me, I hope that it takes.”
“Ye’ll be a wonderful mother, Abby.” Ronan pressed a gentle kiss to Abigail’s lips. Abigail frowned for a moment, and Ronan’s expression grew curious. She didn’t know how to articulate her feelings. “What is it?”
“I dinna ken how to say what I’m thinking without sounding possessive—rather without admitting how possessive I am.”
“Do ye like kenning that ye’re the only woman who could ever bear ma child?”
“Aye. That when ye spill yer seed into me, I ken ye’re entirely mine. It sounds horrible.”
