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Morna braced herself for a good deal of shouting and cursing later, and not just from Will, for Drostan must have sprouted balls during his time at Beharra, else he wouldn’t have had the guts to return.
‘Where is he?’
‘In his chamber, sleeping off a headache from all the ale he swilled last night.’
‘And does Will know, Braya?’
‘Your husband knows everything that happens in his castle, every ear of grain harvested, every mug of ale that is spilt, and every rat that scurries in the rafters, and ‘tis no different with Drostan. Aye, he knows full well, for they were up to the wee small hours drinking and talking. It seems they are reconciled, for now, at least.’
‘Oh, I hope you are right, Braya. I was looking forward to some calmer times ahead and some peace.’
‘Not much of that to be had around here.’
Morna’s hand went to her back where it ached, and she stretched her neck and looked skywards to ease it out. What a belly she had on her, full to bursting with Will’s bairn, burrowed well in, safe and snug. She couldn’t wait to meet him, or her, she thought, smiling.
‘You should be indoors resting. Is the bairn paining you?’
‘Aye, for I feel fatter than a sow and just as appealing.’
‘Is that why the Laird insists on sharing your chamber every night, Lady?’ said Braya, never one to mince words.
Morna’s face flushed with heat and she bit her lip. They should not lie together still, it was not decent, given that she was swelling with his bairn, but Will seemed to find her pregnant body fascinating and who was she to deny him? Besides, once her sickness had passed, her need for a man inside her seemed to have doubled and if he was happy to oblige…’
‘Is it sitting low, lass, pressing down, or pushing up under your ribs?’ called Braya, swatting away seagulls as they swooped for scraps of mussels and cockles left on the rocks.
‘Upwards, I feel as though I have swallowed a horse.’
‘A girl then, no doubt about it.’
‘That won’t go down well, for Will has insisted that I present him with a son.’
‘He will get what he will get, and be happy about it, the fool,’ snapped Braya, making Morna smile. She knew deep down that Will didn’t mind, so excited was he at the prospect of being a father.
She glanced back up the beach to where he stood with Waldrick before an upended boat, supervising its repairs. As she rubbed her belly, he turned and smiled at her, and their eyes met, in perfect harmony. It hadn’t always been like this, and there were still times when their strong wills clashed. But now they both knew the storm would soon pass and there would be calm again and love would be there, it would always be there.
‘Did he tell you he is leaving tomorrow for another gathering of the clans on Barra?’
‘No, he did not and, after last time, he should not,’ said Morna in alarm.
‘Aye, and if Will thinks the clans will come together under his banner, he is a fool. True, there is more accord between them now the English have been driven back out of Scotland with their tails between their legs. But a few pretty promises said over too much ale doesn’t wash away generations of blood and feuding, no matter that he has the King’ favour.’
A shout from down the beach made Morna turn to see a woman rushing towards the men. She was hugely fat and red-haired and waddled in a determined way, so quickly that Morna feared she would topple over. She held a bundle in her arms, and there was something familiar about her.
‘Who is that woman?’ said Morna.
‘Trouble, by the looks of her,’ replied Braya.
Morna and Braya went over to them. Waldrick’s mouth was gaping open like a dying fish.
‘You, you there,’ the woman shrieked. When Waldrick stepped forwards she snapped, ‘No, not you, dog, it is this other one I’ve come to take to task.’
Waldrick went pale and took a step backwards.
‘Are you Laird Bain?’ she demanded of Will.
‘Aye, and what of it?’ he said as she put her face in his.
‘That wretch there got me with child,’ she hissed, pointing at Waldrick. ‘Look. See,’ she said thrusting forward the bundle, from which a face emerged and emitted a loud belch.
