Page 121 of A Bride for the Icy Highlander
“Just both of us? Nay room for anyone else?” she asked, placing her hand on her belly.
Kian furrowed his brow, then a smile spread across his lips. “Ye dinnae mean…”
“Aye, I am with child,” she confirmed.
Kian planted a tender kiss on her lips. “I have all the room in the world for a bairn… or ten.”
“Ten!” Abigail gasped. “Ye shall be satisfied with two for now.”
“Ye make me happy on this day, bunny. Truly, it is blessed news,” he said, beaming.
Abigail felt the heat of bliss spread through her. After years of being together, this man still made her heart flutter.
That night, the Great Hall bustled with warmth and revelry, music swirling through the air in celebration of the harvest.
Abigail held Heather’s small hands as they spun together on the dance floor, the little girl’s giggles rising above the hum of the pipes. Her curls bounced as she moved, and her cheeks were rosy from laughter, her eyes alight with the innocent joy of childhood.
Abigail smiled, her heart nearly bursting with love as she twirled with her daughter beneath the torchlight. Then, she scooped her up into her arms and carried her to the high table, where Kian sat with Leighton.
Kian raised a tankard, his arm slung loosely around Leighton’s shoulders.
“We’ll be sendin’ carts to the McEwans and Reids,” he said, nodding proudly. “Let them ken that the McKennas keep their word and share their fortune when it’s bountiful.”
Leighton clapped him on the back, promising to make the arrangements. “Come morning, several carts will be laden with barrels and bushels.”
“Good man,” Kian said. “Now, if ye’ll excuse me, I have more news to share.”
He tapped a spoon against his goblet and stood up, drawing the room’s attention.
“Folks, look at the bread on the table, the grain in the stores, the laughing faces around ye. Remember the years of drought and the days of hard dust and empty cups. But the skies’ been kind these years, and we’re stronger for what we’ve overcome together. There is bounty to be had, and this harvest is the strongest yet.”
He paused for a beat, letting his words sink in, then walked to Abigail’s side.
“And more bounty’s on its way. Me bonnie wife carries our second bairn.”
The hall erupted in cheers and stomps, toasts raised high as laughter rang out anew.
“I am the luckiest man,” he whispered in her ear.
Abigail rose on her tiptoes to kiss him, her heart fluttering. “And I am the luckiest woman.”
Helena made her way through the throng, her two-year-old son, Brawn, toddling beside her.
“Me best wishes, lass! Ye’ll be busy with two soon enough,” she said with a wink, pulling Abigail into a tight embrace.
Abigail laughed, hugging her friend back, her other hand resting gently on her belly.
As the fiddlers struck up a livelier tune, Kian scooped Heather up into his arms and lifted her high, her laughter echoing through the hall.
Abigail stood near the hearth, watching him spin their daughter in the air. The music swelled, feet thumped on the floor, and folks danced as one.
At that moment, with her people around her and love filling every corner of the hall, Abigail felt like no happiness on earth could be greater.
Later that night, she curled up beneath the thick wool quilts, her head resting on Kian’s chest. Heather lay on the cot nearby, her breaths steady and soft beneath the folds of a linen blanket.Outside, the wind whispered past the shutters, but within, all was still and quiet.
Abigail shifted and lifted her head, a playful glint in her eyes. “I counted three more grey hairs this evening, husband. The years are catchin’ up with ye.”
Kian gave a low chuckle and tightened his arm around her shoulders. “Aye, love. But I’ve earned every one, fightin’ off time, wars, and yer sharp tongue.”
