“Why? Do ye think I feel any differently? I’m the only mon whose bairn will grow inside ye. When I see yer belly grow round, I’ll ken that I’m the mon who gave ye that bairn. I dinna ken if it’s just some primal male instinct, but there is possessiveness and pride wrapped up in the love I feel thinking aboot that. Is it that different from how ye feel?”
“That’s exactly how I feel. But it still doesnae sound good to say it aloud. I sound like a shrew.”
“Nay, ye dinna. I think ye sound like a woman who loves her mon and was ready to set fire to an entire fleet herself just to make sure he came home.” Ronan grinned as he pinched Abigail’s backside. He led them to the bath and helped her to step in. He followed her before sinking into the water. “Mayhap ye shouldnae share this one, Abby. I’m disgusting. I dinna want ye covered in this too.”
Abigail didn’t want to admit to the same thoughts, especially not after she’d just claimed to want him so badly. She looked toward the fire and spied buckets of water before the hearth. There were empty buckets beside them. She pointed to them. “Bethea sent extra fresh water. She must have thought ye’d need at least two baths,” Abigail grinned.
“Or she kenned ye shouldnae be in the same filthy water as me.” Ronan helped Abigail to step out before slipping his head beneath the surface. He scrubbed his head, loosening the dried blood from it. When he surfaced, he accepted the soapy linen square Abigail offered him before she set to work cleaning his hair. She washed it twice, unsatisfied after the first round. When they were certain Ronan was clean, he stepped out and wrapped a drying linen around his waist.
They worked together to change the water before Ronan joined Abigail in the tub. The warm water lapping at Abigail’s shoulders and Ronan’s chest was both soothing and erotic. They soaked together while Abigail sat between Ronan’s legs. They lay there for a long time, both with their eyes closed, but eventually the feeling of closeness turned to physical desire. Ronan massaged Abigail’s breasts, rubbing her nipples as she clasped his thighs. She twisted to receive his kiss until the awkward position became frustrating. They adjusted so Abigail straddled Ronan’s hips, and he slid inside her. Their movements were unhurried, the feel of the warm water heightening every sensation. Their kisses were languid and easy as their hips rocked together. Both intended to draw out this lovemaking, enjoying every moment of being together.
They stilled as heat and pleasure suffused them, holding one another, savoring the connection. Abigail rested against Ronan’s chest as he ran the bar of soap over her arms and back. The sounds of people preparing for the evening meal forced them to hurry through Abigail’s ablutions, and her hair was in a wet braid as they entered the Great Hall. Those recovering from serious wounds had been carried to their homes or given bedrolls around the gathering hall. The tables had been scrubbed clean, and Abigail noted the dirty rushes had been swept away. She would ensure the floors were cleaned and new rushes laid the next day. She and Ronan made their way to the dais, where Clyde and Angus already sat. It wasn’t long before the servants presented the meal. It was a somber meal with simple fare, reminding them of what they’d just endured. With fewer dishes than normal making their way to the tables, Bethea and Maisie joined their husbands at the high table.
“Lady Abigail,” Clyde spoke softly, keeping the informality to those seated around the laird and his lady. “Thank ye for making sure the women were safe. Maisie told me aboot yer suggestion to have the torches. Ma greatest fear when I ride out isnae that I willna come home. It’s that I willna be there to protect Maisie. Kenning ye watched out for ma wife eases ma conscience, ma lady. Thank ye.”
“Ye’ve all welcomed me into yer home and made it mine too. Mayhap ye can imagine what it’s like to leave yer family and join a new one, kenning only yer husband. It’s nae easy, but I’m proud to be a MacKinnon, and I’m proud to serve our clan. I appreciate the friendship Bethea and Maisie have offered since the moment I arrived. I’d do aught to keep ma family safe. That means all of ye.”
“Ma lady,” Angus spoke up. “I wasna jesting when I asked ye earlier if yer husband kenned ye could lead an army. Ye looked out for all of us, nae just the women and children. Ye thought to provide the men with food and water, ye helped our defenses, and ye risked yer own life to help our efforts to win. The laird has always been an intelligent lad, but he was almighty clever to find ye, Lady Abigail.”
Abigail smiled at Ronan as they held hands resting on the table between them. Both knew there were long days ahead of them as the clan healed and moved forward, but neither could imagine a better partner with whom to share the joys and sorrows of leadership. Ronan kissed Abigail’s temple as the conversation moved on to plans for the next day. The couple joined in, but both were subdued as they watched the people seated at the tables below them. The battle with the MacLeods was over, but the war was not. Abigail and Ronan knew it was only a matter of time before King Robert learned of the fight, and neither was eager to face the fallout.
Forty
Abigail shielded her eyes as she handed the waterskin to Ronan. “I can’t believe how much you’ve accomplished in a sennight. You would never ken an auld building stood here only days ago.” Ronan and Abigail stood together as they surveyed the newly reconstructed barracks. The clan’s laborers had worked from sunup to sundown to provide a new home for the bachelor warriors. Despite bruises that ached with each breath, Ronan had joined the men each day laying bricks. He’d carried bundles of thatch and cleared away snow. He’d smiled sheepishly at the end of each day as he trailed muck into the Great Hall. The sun shone each day that the men worked, quickly melting the snow and leaving mud behind.
Abigail aided the servants as they brought food and ale to the men throughout the day and flasks of whisky when the wind grew brisk. She’d caught herself distracted several times as her gaze lingered on her brawny husband. She watched his leine pull tight across his broad shoulders while the breeze lifted his blond hair from his shoulders. With the laces loose at his shirt collar, she watched the muscles in his chest bunch and ripple as he moved bricks and thatch. Bethea found Abigail ogling Ronan more than once, generally when the older woman came out to watch her own husband. Abigail had never seen a man as strong as Angus. She marveled at what Ronan could carry, but watching Angus was mind boggling. He lifted twice as much as any other man and never looked nearly as winded as the others.
“He has the stamina of an ox,” Bethea winked as she elbowed Abigail. “It’s his fault we have seven children.”
Abigail giggled as she glanced as her friend. She’d grown close to Bethea and Maisie in the brief time she’d been at Dun Ringill, and she was grateful for the companionship. Both women were patient when they explained tasks that Abigail was unfamiliar with or lacked the confidence to do on her own. They praised her for her efforts and her determination. Abigail discovered purpose to her life that had been missing in all her previous endeavors.
But her greatest happiness—when not making love with Ronan—was watching the ease with which Ronan interacted with his people. He hadn’t exaggerated when he said that he wasn’t hesitant or anxious around his clan. She saw a more easygoing man, who smiled most of the day and was often laughing the loudest. She discovered he had a wicked sense of humor when she overheard jests that made her face go red to the roots of her hair. She recognized that Ronan would never be as gregarious as Clyde turned out to be, but she preferred him the way he was. And his reserve made him well matched to Clyde’s exuberance, and Abigail quickly understood why they’d been best friends since birth. Her admiration and respect for Ronan grew daily.
“What has my bonnie bride laughing?” Ronan asked as he wrapped an arm around Abigail and lifted her off her feet to make it easier to kiss her.
Abigail’s cheeks went pink as she sucked her lips in. She glanced at Bethea, who shook her head and walked away. Abigail kept her voice low as she admitted, “Bethea claims Angus has the stamina of an ox, and that’s why they had so many children. I didn’t say this to her, but I was thinking we must be rabbits considering how often we couple.”
Ronan nibbled at Abigail’s neck before nipping her earlobe. “Wait here while I drop off these logs, then we shall see if we can make our own bunnies.” Ronan put Abigail back on her feet, before scooping a bunch of logs and hurrying to deliver them. She watched as his plaid swished around his thighs. She pictured what she knew lay beneath it, and Ronan chuckled when he caught her staring. He bent at the waist and hefted Abigail onto his shoulder just as he’d been carrying the logs. The clan was already used to the newlyweds’ antics and no longer bothered looking in their direction.
“Ronan, put me down. I can walk on my own.”
“Your legs are too short.”
“I’d say they’re just the right length for what I need.”
“Aye. Wrapping them around me and holding on,” Ronan guffawed as he tapped her backside. He carried her to their chamber where he locked the door before they undressed. They were locked in a passionate kiss, stumbling toward their bed when a knock rang at the door. Ronan barked, “Go away!”
“I canna,” came Clyde’s voice from the passageway. “A missive from the Bruce just arrived.”
Ronan wrapped his plaid around his waist while Abigail put her chemise back on and wrapped her plaid around her shoulders. Ronan opened the door and accepted the parchment from Clyde. Abigail wasn’t certain if her husband’s scowl was from their interlude being interrupted or having to deal with the king’s message. She suspected it was both. They sat together to read the missive. When they were through, Abigail’s scowl matched Ronan’s.
“He expects me to account for my actions,” Ronan growled. “He’s going to say he’d demand the same from the MacLeods, but they’re all dead now.”
“Because of their own stupidity and greed.”
“Aye. But Robert won’t see it that way. He’ll complain that I’ve created another headache for him now that the MacLeods will be in turmoil. He should thank me for doing away with Cormag and his ilk. His cousin is young, but the mon isn’t nearly as brash. I saw him standing behind Cormag when Kieran and I stood together at the Dunvegan gates. But the mon wasn’t with the riders we met, nor was he among the dead or the captured. He must have remained home to oversee the keep.”
“How auld is he?”
