Fraser’s voice carried from the corridor. “Is the Laird receivin’ visitors, or is he too busy being domesticated?”
“Come in, ye irritatin’ bastard,” Declan called, though his tone was fond.
Fraser entered with his usual easy confidence, but Francesca noticed the tension around his eyes, the way his smile didn’t quite reach them.
“What’s wrong?” she asked immediately.
“Nothing’s wrong, exactly.” Fraser dropped into the chair Lady Gretchen had vacated. “Just got word from home. Malcolm needs me back at Clan McArthur for a spell. Some border disputes with the Campbells that require attention.”
Declan straightened, immediately alert. “Serious disputes?”
“Potentially. Ye ken how the Campbells are, always looking for an excuse to expand their territory.” Fraser’s expression hardened slightly. “Malcolm wants me there to help negotiate. Or intimidate. Probably both.”
“How long will ye be gone?”
“A few weeks. Maybe a month.” Fraser looked between them, his gaze lingering on Francesca’s belly. “I’d hoped to be here when the bairn arrives, but I daenae ken.”
“Family comes first,” Declan said firmly. “Ye need to go. The clan needs ye.”
“Aye.” Fraser stood, moving to clasp Declan’s shoulder. “But if ye need me, if anythin’ happens with Francesca or the babe, send word immediately. I’ll come back.”
“I ken ye will.” Declan embraced his cousin briefly. “Be safe, Fraser. And tell Malcolm if he needs MacGhee support, he only has to ask.”
“I will.” Fraser turned to Francesca, his expression softening. “Take care of him, Me Lady. Someone has to make sure he doesnae work himself to death while I’m gone.”
“I’ll do my best,” she promised. “Though you know how stubborn he is.”
“Aye, I do.” Fraser’s grin returned briefly. “But ye’re the only person alive who can make him see reason. That’s worth more than all the warriors in the Highlands.”
After Fraser left with promises to return soon, Declan helped Francesca back to their chamber. Evening had fallen, painting the sky in shades of purple and gold through their window.
“Are you worried?” she asked as he helped her out of her day dress. “About Fraser and the Campbells?”
“A bit. Border disputes can turn ugly fast.” His hands were gentle as they unlaced her stays. “But Fraser can handle himself. And Malcolm is a good laird, even if he and I daenae always see eye to eye.”
“Still. You’ll miss him.”
“Aye.” He pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “He’s been me constant these past years. Me anchor when everythin’ else felt uncertain.”
“You have us now to fill up that space.”
“Aye, now I have ye. And Eloise. And soon, this little one.” His hand settled over her belly, feeling their child move beneath his palm.
She turned in his arms, looping hers around his neck. “I love you. Have I told you that today?”
“Only twice.” His lips curved. “I’m feelin’ neglected.”
“Poor neglected laird.” She kissed him softly. “However will you survive?”
“I have some ideas.” His hands slid down her back, cupping her hips and pulling her closer, or as close as her belly would allow. “Though they all involve gettin’ ye into that bed.”
“Do they?” She walked backward, drawing him with her. “How scandalous.”
“Oh, believe me, I intend to be as scandalous as possible.”
“Is it scandalous to want you this much?” She settled onto the bed, reaching for him. “Even now, when I’m round as a barrel and clumsy as a newborn foal?”
“Ye’re beautiful.” He knelt beside the bed, pressing kisses to her belly. “Radiant. Perfect.”
