Page 99 of The Highlander Who Loved Me

Her eye drifted to the bailey. Smoke from the forge billowed and twisted into the sky and the sound of cattle and chickens cut through the quiet. Stones lay at the ready to complete the fortifications on the south side of the curtain wall and, next to the newly built weaver’s hut, the area where the chapel would be built was outlined with stakes and rope.

The sight filled her with pride and hope. They had managed so many improvements in such a short time, though there was still much work to be done. ’Twas not easy, ensuring that all at the keep had warm shelter and enough food, but it was a task she and James had embraced with determination and optimism.

The people of the village had been suspicious at first, but eventually realized that she had returned to make a home. Their moist, boggy land would never grow enough food, but it could produce goods that would supplement what they needed to ensure that none went hungry.

Davina understood that many of the villagers were doubtful that a knight Crusader would choose to become a steward of the land. But James surprised everyone with his natural affinity for running a keep. ’Twas an even greater comfort knowing his sword and ability to lead and train men would protect them all.

Bits of gold were found in the stream at the southern border, but it took a considerable amount of time and effort. As James had suspected, they could not rely on the gold for a steady source of income to maintain the estate.

Uncle Fergus had made a half-hearted effort to repay them for his dead wife’s crimes, but Davina had wanted something more precious than coin—her independence. Her uncle had reluctantly agreed with her demand that the keep no longer be considered part of clan Armstrong. Instead, they were aligned with clan McKenna, though she and James were free to make any decisions regarding their property without first consulting his father, the laird. It was an arrangement that suited them best.

Word of Isobel’s deeds and madness proved to be great fodder for gossip, but her death was an unexpected boon for Joan. Archibald Fraser was appalled by his mother-in-law’s actions. Fearing to pass her madness on to his offspring, he set Joan aside, declaring his intentions to divorce her. He disowned their son, allowing Joan to take the lad to Armstrong Castle, where she now lived and ruled as mistress.

“Why have ye left our bed, wife?” called a husky voice.

The familiar voice rumbled through her and Davina turned. James was sprawled on his stomach, his head resting on a pillow, staring at her from the bed. The covers rode low on his hips and she could see a tantalizing view of the muscles in his arms, back, and shoulders.

Her stomach did a little flip. Even from this angle, he was a fine specimen of a Highland warrior, everything that she had ever wanted. And he was all hers.

She returned to his side and cuddled beside him. He nuzzled her temple, then kissed her brow. His arms tightened and she smiled at the sweetness of his embrace. His fingers moved down her arm in a lazy stroke, a hypnotic caress that left her feeling safe and secure.

“How is my son on this fine morning?” he asked, placing his hand gently on her rounded stomach.

“Yer son—or daughter—is sleeping quietly inside me.”

She grinned as a wave of contentment washed through her. The love she felt for James seemed to grow more and more each day and there were times she struggled to find the words to tell him how much.

Thinking of it now brought an inner glow to her heart. She turned her head to look up at him and he kissed her, long and deep, his hands moving down to her thighs. Those sensual, wandering fingers were starting to distract her. She allowed it for a few moments, then stopped him with a quick kiss, pulling away.

James let out an exaggerated groan. He rolled onto his back and put his arms behind his head. “Ye look tired, love. Come back to bed.”

She gave him a wry smile. “If I return to that bed, I doubt I’ll be doing much sleeping.”

“How is that wrong?”

“We’ve much to do.”

“Och, ye’re a cruel woman, Davina. Leaving our bed after giving me one miserly kiss.”

She laughed at the petulance in his voice. He sounded so aggrieved. “I cannae laze the day away in bed with ye, husband. Have ye forgotten we start the shearing today?”

James sat up quickly. “Ye’re not going to be helping.”

“I’m with child, James. Not infirmed. I feel wonderful. The nausea and weakness are completely gone, just as the midwife said.”

“Ye fainted.”

“Once, James. I fainted once, nearly two months ago.”

“I worry fer ye and our babe.”

“And I love ye for it.” Oddly enough, the ferocity of his voice made her feel cherished. She returned to his side, sitting on the edge of the bed.

James wrapped her in his arms, pulling her back so she leaned into him. “My mother told me that I must make certain to treat ye tenderly and with great care.”

“Ye do, James, even when I’m not carrying our child.” She framed his face in her hands and kissed him lovingly, reverently. “But ye must not smother me with so much constant kindness or else I’ll go mad.”

“There’s no need fer ye to be at the shearing. The shepherds know their duties and I trust they will work hard, if only to please ye,” James said.

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