Caelen goaned and turned her around in her husband’s direction. Ewan was only too happy to gather her in his arms and swing her around.

“Put her down, Papa! I want to hug Mama.”

Chuckling, Ewan set her on her feet and Crispen promptly threw his arms around her waist. Tearfully, Mairin gathered him in her arms and proceeded to kiss every inch of his hair.

Alaric and Caelen looked on indulgently, but Ewan could see in their eyes the clear affection they had for his wife. She had conquered them all. Ewan. His brothers. His men. Their clan.

He held up his hand to silence the uproar around them.

“Today is a truly glorious day,” he said to the gathered clan. “Our lady is returned to us at last. She made incredible sacrifices to keep our child safe and the McCabe legacy alive. She worried that the loss of her dowry would somehow dampen our enthusiasm for her return when indeed she is our greatest treasure.”

He turned then to Mairin and slowly went down on one knee in front of her. “You are my greatest treasure,” he whispered.

Around him, his men also went down on one knee, their swords drawn and pointed in her direction. Alaric and Caelen both stepped forward. Ewan saw the question in her eyes. Then they both went on bended knee in front of her.

It was too much for his tenderhearted wife. She wept as noisily as a newborn babe. No one seemed to mind. Smiles shone on the faces of his exhausted men.

“Oh, Ewan,” she cried, as she launched herself toward him.

He had no choice but to catch her, though they still landed on the ground in a tangle of arms and legs. She loomed over him and peppered his face and neck with kisses.

She was crying so hard that twice her lips slipped off his face and glanced off his ears.

“I love you,” she wept. “Never did I dream that I’d find a man like you.”

Ewan caught her in his arms and gazed lovingly into her eyes.

“ ’Tis a known fact that you were God’s gift to this clan, lass. And to me. Especially to me,” he whispered.

A resounding cheer nearly deafened him. Mairin clapped her hands over her ears, but her smile was enough to light up the darkest winter night.

Not caring who saw him or what conclusion they drew, he rolled to his feet, swung her into his arms, and started for the steps of the keep.

“Ewan, what are you doing?” she demanded.

He silenced her with a kiss as he walked inside the hall. “Hush, wife. Don’t question me. I have a pressing need to experience my wife’s indecency.”



CHAPTER 38


The McCabe clan readied for war. It wasn’t an outward cry but rather a quiet readying of the men and their weapons. They were resigned to their fate as enemies of the crown and of Duncan Cameron.

Mairin left the window and descended the stairs to the hall, where she found Gannon and Cormac eating the noon meal with their soldiers. She waved her hand for them to continue eating.

“I’m just going into the kitchens to see Gertie,” she called as she walked by. “I won’t venture farther than that.”

Gannon nodded but kept an eye on her progress. “Stay where I can see you, my lady.”

She smiled and stepped inside the door but remained where Gannon could see her from where he sat.

Only, Gertie wasn’t tending the fire as was her habit. Mairin sniffed the air. No bread was baking either, which was unusual given that Gertie always had a loaf baking, day or night. Mairin often wondered when the woman took her rest.

Perhaps she’d stepped into the larder. Aye, that was likely, and if so, she’d return in a moment’s time. Gertie wouldn’t leave an unattended fire for more than a few seconds.

But when Gertie didn’t return, Mairin frowned. A noise that sounded like a moan coming from the larder spurred her into action. She rushed through the kitchen and stepped inside the small room, her gaze seeking Gertie.

There crumpled on the floor lay Gertie, blood trickling down her temple. Mairin rushed forward to kneel by the older woman. Then she turned, prepared to call for Gannon, when a hand clamped over her mouth and an arm jerked her from the floor against a hard body.

“Not a sound, my lady.”

She managed to free her mouth. “Diormid?”

“Silence,” he bit out.

Her shock wore off and gave way to burning rage. “You dare to show yourself on McCabe land? You’ll not live to see another sunrise. My husband will kill you.”

“You are my passage to freedom,” he gritted out next to her ear.

The unmistakable feel of a blade cutting into her dress over her belly sent a shiver up Mairin’s spine. He held the knife so close she could barely move for fear of being cut.

Diormid’s grip tightened on her and he laid the flat of the blade against her now bare belly. “Listen well. If you do anything foolish, I19;ll slice open your belly and spill the babe onto the ground. If I fail to bring you back to Cameron, I die. If I’m caught on McCabe land, I die. I have nothing to lose, Lady McCabe, and I assure you, if you draw attention to us, I’ll kill you and your babe before I die.”

For some reason his words infuriated her rather than struck fear in her heart. She was tired of the endless fear they all lived in. She was tired of seeing the worry in Ewan’s eyes. He didn’t sleep well. He wasn’t eating properly. All because he feared the implications of the choices he’d made as laird.

She fingered the dagger attached to her belt. Caelen had gifted it to her upon their return to McCabe keep. His thought was that there was no reason a lass shouldn’t be able to defend herself if the situation arose.

She found in this moment she was in complete agreement.

Careful not to upset Diormid in any way, she nodded her agreement. “Of course I’ll do whatever you wish. I’ve no desire for harm to come to my child.”

“We go out the back, where the skirt crumbles. My horse waits in the trees. If anyone sees you, you are to call out that Gertie has need of the healer.”

Mairin nodded. Diormid’s hand closed around her nape while his other hand still gripped the knife against her belly. As soon as she felt the metal leave her flesh, she whirled, her dagger in hand.

In Diormid’s surprise, his knife swung up, slicing her upper arm. But the pain barely registered, so intent was she on her task.