Highland Warrior by Heather McCollum (the rosie project TXT) 📗

was lost as soon as the warmth of Kára’s lips pressed against his own. Power roared around him, but it was small in comparison to the power of the love that joined them together. As she pulled back, a dazed smile curling her lips, she mouthed I love you to him.

He leaned in, his lips to her ear. “I love ye, too, in war and in peace, forever.” He raised his fist to his heart, giving her his oath. She blinked, her eyes filling with tears in contrast to the huge smile she displayed.

“In war and in peace,” she said, and he could hear her as the cheers subsided. “I love you forever.”

Summer 1590

Epilogue

“Kára is with child,” Hilda said to Erik as she squinted over the letter. Smiling, she held it closer to the peat fire spreading light throughout the earthen house. The flames crackled to punctuate the sea breeze that whistled across the hole leading outside above them.

“Mayhap she will have a girl this time after Geir,” she said. Her sister, Harriett, would probably be the one to help with the birthing.

Erik held the soles of his feet to the fire. “So the Sinclairs have truly taken them into Caithness.” He picked up an iron stick and poked the hot embers with his one hand.

Hilda exhaled. “I stayed here to help those who remained behind or returned, but only a couple returned to Orkney. And they moved away from Lord Robert’s immediate reach. It is only you, Fiona, and me here at Hillside now.” She folded the letter, tucking it into her shawl. “I will journey there before winter sets in,” Hilda said. “I wish to see my sister again and Kára and all the others.”

Erik looked at her, his eyebrow cocked. “Then who will lay flowers on their graves?”

“You should come with me,” she said, ignoring his bait for another argument about her keeping up the appearance of Kára’s death. The disappearance of John Dishington had been easily explained with a forged letter saying he had journeyed back to mainland Scotland. No one knew that as Hilda placed flowers on the graves of her nephew, his wife, and their two daughters, she spit on the grave where the bones of The Brute rested under the headstone of Joshua Sinclair.

Erik rubbed the stump where he had been thieved of his right arm. “What would they want with an old chief who cannot even raise a sword?”

“The great Sinclair warriors could train you to swing with your left arm.”

He grumbled something and stared into the fire. The flames bent as the door opened. “I am off to the palace,” Fiona said as she ducked inside. Even bent with age and regret, she whisked over to the jars along the back shelf. Since her son, Torben, had died, her vengeance had grown until she was nearly unbearable to live with. All she talked about was the need for Robert’s death.

She sniffed into a few jars, selecting two of them that held the sleeping herbs Hilda used occasionally. “I hear Lord Robert is ailing, and I have something to help.”

“Help?” Erik snorted. “Likely you will be giving him poison.”

Fiona spun around on her heel to stare at him, a slow smile spreading over her features. “Tut,” she scolded. “Do not let the fae folk hear such talk or they may poison him.” She cackled at her own jest and darted out the door.

Hilda looked to Erik and shook her head. “That man will likely not live out the year.”

…

The door flew open. “Kára!” Joshua called, dodging past Harriett, his aunt Merida, and Brenna to where Kára kneeled on the bed, Brenna’s hand supporting her back as best she could.

Kára panted. “’Tis about time you got your arse here, Highlander,” she yelled. She called him that when she was angry at him or ready for a night of raucous lovemaking. And, since she was in labor with their first child, it was definitely anger.

“I was at the MacKay castle, helping Gideon move his belongings there,” he said, but knew that no one was listening to him. “Angus and Mathias rode to tell me, and I jumped on Fuil to race home.”

“I need to take a look, Kára,” Harriett said.

Kára let out a low moan and then seemed to hold her breath.

“Remember to breathe,” Aunt Merida said and sucked breath loudly in and out through her teeth. She lifted and lowered her aged hands with her breaths.

“She must lie back on the bed or hang from the rope,” Harriett said, indicating the loop hanging above.

“I will hold her up,” Joshua said, kicking off his boots as he climbed onto the large bed that they shared at Girnigoe Castle. They were almost done building a secluded cottage in the woods, but Kára had become such great friends with his sister, Hannah, and Cain’s wife, Ella, that they would continue to live mostly in the castle with the growing Sinclair family.

“He is very good at that,” Brenna said, nodding vigorously. She fetched the stack of clean linen and then glanced about. “I will find a knife for the cradle.”

Joshua lifted Kára under her arms, helping her into the rope that hung from the rafters and through a cut in the canopy draped over the four corner posts of the bed. He braced his feet, holding her fully against him, his arms wrapped under her breasts. His mouth dipped to her ear. “Geir will be pleased to have a wee brother or sister,” he said, trying to distract her as he felt her body tense again. “He helped me build the cradle,” he said, glancing at the smoothed wooden bed for their bairn.

“I found it,” Brenna said, holding up a long sgian dubh. She set it in the cradle.

Harriett sat back, and Joshua released his breath at the sight of her smile. “I see a wee head. Just a bit more, Kára.”

“Ye are doing fine, lass,” Aunt Merida said, patting her hand.

“Joshua,” Kára said.

“Aye?”

“Next time we have