“I’m increasing.”
For a moment he didn’t realize what she had said before it dawned on him.
“Ye’re…” He couldn’t get the word out.
She nodded as her eyes filled with tears. “We are going tae have a bairn before the winter.”
James swallowed the tears that gathered in his throat, pulling her tightly against him. He was going to be a father! The thought seemed to be laughable at best, but now his Iris was carrying a bairn.
“I…I dinnae know wot tae say,” he croaked.
“Tell me ye are happy,” she asked, snuggling against his chest. “And that will be enough.”
She had no idea how happy he was, how happy she made him.
“Aye, I’m happy, lass,” he whispered against her temple.
Iris sighed. “Well, ye will have tae tell Ian then because I cannae.”
James groaned and pulled away from his wife, thinking about his brother-in-law.
“I cannae. He will run a sword through me for touching ye.”
He and Ian were on cordial terms because Iris was so happy with him, but to know that he would be placing birthing a bairn on her in a few short months meant that Ian was going to detest him again.
“James!” Iris laughed. “Trust me. Mah brother is aware of wot we have been doing in our own hut. ’Tis not like I wed ye tae listen tae ye snore at night.”
Her jest made him grin, and he picked her up in his arms, carrying her back to their hut, the hut they had already made a wealth of memories in.
“Lass, I dinnae think yer brother thinks aboot me ravishing ye nightly.”
Iris laid her head on his chest as he carried her to their bed, depositing her on the furs.
“Nay, he probably doesnae.”
James joined her on the bed, kicking off his boots as he did so. Iris giggled as he slid his body against hers, the heat flaring in her eyes.
“Cannae we tell him when the bairn is born?” he murmured, pressing his lips along her jaw line. “He cannae run me through then.”
“He’s not going tae hurt ye,” she answered, angling her neck so he could have better access. “He loves ye.”
Love was such a strong word to describe his relationship with Ian.
“We will get Stephan tae tell him.”
Iris tugged on his tunic until he pulled it over his head. She sat up, pressing his shoulders into the bed.
“Well, if that is the case…” she said, roving her hands over his naked chest. “Then perhaps I should tell ye how happy ye are making me right now, James Lennox, and we will figure it out later.”
“I dinnae mind that,” he told her, placing his hands behind his head and letting her work on his breeks. He would never grow tired of having her in his bed, in his life. Her hands touched him with a gentleness that he thought he would never have from her, but it was more than just her touch that made him feel like he was a rich Scot.
It was the love she bestowed on him and the future that neither of them wanted but ended up with.
