One look into his eyes told her what he was thinking about but she looked at him innocently. “Ye dinnae like the salve."
"Verra amusing.” He slid her hand down his body until it rested upon his manhood.
"Ye want me to put salve on that?"
"Islaen,” he growled, “it isnae wise to taunt a desperate mon."
"Are ye desperate, Iain?” she murmured as she stroked him.
"Aye, witch."
He kissed her hungrily even as his hand sought the warmth between her thighs. Islaen felt her somewhat neglected desires flare to life. Nevertheless, when he finally released her mouth to spread warm kisses over her throat, she fought to recall his wound.
"I am nay sure ye ought to do this, Iain."
"I am.” He undid her gown enough to free her breasts.
"Are ye sure we can do this without hurting your side?"
"I am about to show ye that we can and verra nicely too."
Islaen said no more until she lay sated in his arms. “Aye, that was verra nice.” She giggled when the baby kicked her and Iain grunted. “Ye should feel it from this side."
"Nay, I think I can live content to a ripe old age without kenning it."
Moving off him, Islaen straightened her clothes. “Where did ye put my braes?"
"Tossed ‘em aside."
"How uncivilized."
Crossing his arms behind his head, he grinned at her. “Aye, ye should learn to control yourself."
"My, we are feeling better, arenae we,” she drawled as she got off of the bed and started to look for her braes.
"There are some potions that cannae be matched."
Finding her braes all the way across the room, Islaen turned her back to him and put them on. “Ye didnae toss them; ye hurled them."
"Why bother putting them back on?"
"I feel naked without them. Just keep feeling as if something will show. I have gotten accustomed to wearing them. Truth tell, I begin to think the women that dinnae wear them be the odd ones.” She returned to sit on the edge of the bed. “Do ye want anything else?” she asked pertly.
Iain was about to make an outrageous reply when Islaen gasped and put her hands over her stomach. “Islaen?"
"Aye, just a moment,” she gasped as she hurriedly lay down by his side and grasped his hand in what she could see was a vain attempt to ease his worry. “The bairn dances,” she said breathlessly.
Almost timidly he put his hands on her swollen abdomen. His eyes slowly widened as he felt the prodigious activity within. It was little surprise that it offset her. He wondered how she could tolerate it.
"Does it hurt?” he whispered.
"Nay, not truly, but ‘tis not comfortable either,” she replied with an increasing calm as the activity within her womb eased a little and she was less startled by it.
"Mayhaps a physician."
"To leech me or cup me? He will think it something in my blood so take some out, mayhaps too much. Aye, he will still the activity. A dead bairn cannae move too muckle much. Dinnae bring one of those corbies near me, Iain. Swear it."
"I swear it. Calm yourself, Islaen,” he soothed, then jested weakly, “ye will have the bairn kicking his way out in fright."
