Robina woke that morning to find herself wrapped in the warm firm embrace of a big man with beautiful blue eyes that were smiling into hers. She cupped his cheek with her hand, feeling the rough stubble that had grown overnight.
“Good morning, Milady,” he said, his voice still hoarse from sleep. “You slept well?”
“Better than I have for ages, M'laird,” she replied. “Wonderfully, in fact. And you?”
“Very well,” he replied, his eyes twinkling. “Can we go back to sleep so that I can hold you in my arms all day?”
She giggled. “No!”
He was not listening. He tightened all his limbs around her so that it was impossible for her to move, then pinned her to the bed with his weight and gave her a smoldering kiss, thrusting his tongue into her mouth and pressing her lips against her teeth.
When he was finished she gave him a dazed, breathless smile.
“Until later Milady.” He kissed her tummy, then stood up, dressed quickly, and left, but not before rushing back to her for one last sweet kiss.
She felt incredulous as she lay on the bed for a while, thinking about how miserable she had been the day before and how happy she was now. She was happy for another two minutes before she had to jump out of bed and run to the chamber pot to be sick again.
Alex had ordered some of Robina’s favorite dishes for dinner that night, but just as the salmon was put down on the table, Robina took one look at it, put her hand over her mouth, and retched. The maidservant who had been waiting on them looked at her anxiously.
“Are ye a’right, Milady?” she asked with a tremor in her voice.
“She will be fine, Elsie.” Alex smiled at her. “She has had a bit of an upset stomach.”
At once, a look of realization passed over the woman’s face. “I see, M'laird. Will I get Mistress McCallum for her?” she asked.
“Not yet,” he replied, “but we will have to put her to bed, I think.”
By this time, Robina was looking almost green. Alex gave her a sip of whisky then hefted her up into his arms.
“I can walk!” she protested, laughing as he made for the stairs.
“I know, but you are not going to, Milady,” he replied grimly. “I am the Laird, and I am giving the orders here!”
Elsie watched the Laird’s fine figure as he carried his wife effortlessly upstairs, then she made a beeline for the kitchen, bursting through the door so suddenly that everyone jumped. “Yeez’ll never guess whit I jist heard!” she cried, clapping her hands.
“The castle’s fa’in doon!” someone cried in mock panic.
“The world is gaunnae end!” said someone else.
“Bill McTavish jist bought somb’dy a drink!” the cook shouted, to a general chorus of laughter. Bill was the most tight-fisted man in the village.
“Naw! Better than that!” Elsie was making the most of her moment of glory. Everyone was looking at her, enthralled, and she was drawing out the suspense.
“Oh, for God’s sake get on wi’ it, wummin!” Betty, the cook, shouted again.
“Milady is wi’ child!” Elsie shouted.
They all cheered loudly, not for Milady, but because it was a good excuse to break out the whisky.
Lockie was furious. Lorna was not giving him a child and even though it was still early he had a feeling she was not fertile. She was thin when he married her and she was eating less and less. She had grown so thin now, to the point that he was not very attracted to her.
Her father was depressed and the same curse seemed to have passed to her as well.That is why that man does not have any sons!Lockie thought, full of superstition. “A weak man cannot have sons,” he often told himself.I will conceive two at the same time. Twins, yes twin sons, that will grow up together and be powerful. If only that woman was fertile!
The more frustrated he became the more anxious Lorna became. He did not realize that with stressing her, he only made it more difficult for her.
It all went downhill, when one day all his suspicions were confirmed. Walking past the castle chapel, he saw Lorna praying at the altar itself, and not in the church. She was constantly going there. He saw her prostrating herself in front of the statue of the Virgin Mary, and she was weeping. He moved closer to hear her prayers, and was shocked.
“Mother of Jesus, I beseech thee to ask thy Mother, Saint Anne, to help me conceive a child. It is the greatest wish of my husband, and I want so much to give him this gift. I will do anything required of me if you will only grant me this. Please, make me fertile again and I will feed the poor and shelter the homeless. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, amen.” She stood up and crossed herself.
