Chapter 21 #18
Ross turned to her and put a finger to his lips in a parody of thought.
“I think I’ll keep you locked up for a while, my dear, until I decide if the child is of any worth to my claim.
” He turned to look at her, his eyes glinting darkly.
“Of course, after Ceann meets his unfortunate end, I could perhaps take you as my wife. Aye, that would surely strengthen my claims to Tulloch, if I were to wed the poor unfortunate widow. But I’ll have to think more on it, now that I have you here.
It would be a shame to waste such beauty with an untimely death. ”
The coldness of the smile he offered her made a shiver run down her spine. Oh God, Ceann. Ross meant to kill him. And he would come here after her, she knew he would. He could be walking into a trap.
“He won’t come here.”
“Who won’t?”
“Ceann. He won’t come after me. He will probably be glad to be rid of the burden. He only married me as a kindness, after all.”
Ross came closer until his face was directly in hers. She pulled back in disgust. “You know what lass? I don’t believe you.” He whirled away from her. “Guards! Take her to the east solar. Be sure she stays there this time, or it’s you heads”!
Two days. She had been locked in a room for two days without seeing anyone but the guard that left her food and water but would not speak a word to her.
She paced the floor, her desperation growing by the minute.
Where was Ceann? God, what if he had already been killed!
No, she would feel it in her blood if he were gone, wouldn’t she?
For all she knew, Ross could have already taken Tulloch.
The not knowing was eating her up inside.
Then the first pain hit, clenching low in her abdomen. “No! No!” He won’t have my child…
Everything was in place. The plan had taken two precious days to lay out, but he would not risk Ella’s life in a hasty attack.
He had placed spies at Rossmoor months ago, and so he knew that she was still safe, locked in a tower room.
Ross must be mad to have taken her, but then he couldn’t have known Ceann would go to the ends of the earth to get her back.
Ross was a dead man, and he would be the one to take him down.
Finally, just at dusk, the signal came. Ceann stormed toward the gate, where the guards already lay dead, long before they could sound the alarm.
He shouted his battle cry as he ran, surrounded by some of the best-trained warriors in all of Scotland.
Ross had anticipated their attack, but not their strength or their fury.
Ceann entered the hall and skidded to a halt.
The clash of swords and daggers echoed all around him, along with the screams of fallen men.
The warm rich tang of fresh blood reached his nostrils, fueling his frenzy.
Ross was there, standing near the head table, his sword drawn, hatred written on his face like a mask.
“Ceann, you little whelp of a hoar! Have you come for your woman? Perhaps she doesn’t want you anymore, now that she’s been in a real man’s bed!”
Blind fury overcame him, swallowing him whole, and Ceann drove his sword right through his uncle’s heart, before the other man even knew what was coming.
He drew close and looked into his eyes, wide with shock, and twisted the sword, “You are no man Ross, you are the very devil.” He withdrew the sword, and watched, panting in reaction, as his uncle fell lifeless to the floor.
He took only a moment to wipe his sword clean of the taint before he ran for the stairs.
The guard in the hall saw him and reached to pull out his sword, but not before Ceann had run him through.
“Damn”, he whispered, as he wiped it clean once again on the guard’s clothing.
Then he turned to the door, kicking it open as if it were made of bark and not solid oak.
When he saw Ella, a jolt of fear hit him hard in the gut.
She was kneeling on the floor, arms wrapped around her middle, agony etched on her face.
“God, Ella! What is it? Did he hurt you?” He rushed to her, lifting her easily in his arms even as she cried out in pain.
“Ceann, thank God! I didn’t know… thank God!” She gasped for a breath as her body clenched yet again. “Maggie. I need Maggie!”
Without another word, he ran with her in his arms until he reached his horse, hidden in the wood behind the manor house, trusting that his men had already cleared the way for them.
He rode hell-bent for Tulloch, holding Ella tight to his chest. She cried out in pain again, clutching his arms and trembling against him.
He saw the blood which was soaking her gown.
Why was there so much blood? Panic filled his chest anew and the miles seemed endless. If I lose her now, I will surely die.
At long last he could see the tower, then the walls, and then he was flying through the gate and into the bailey.
He roared for Maggie even as he slid from the horse, Ella in his arms. She had gone quiet now, limp.
He continued to bellow for Maggie as he ran, until he passed her at the bottom of the stairs as she rushed down, her face a mask of concern and fear.
“You found her! Thank God, you found her!” She turned and followed him up, not able to keep pace with his long strides. Ethan fell in behind her.
“What is it, Maggie? Is she alright?” His voice was tight with worry.
She didn’t answer because they had reached the chamber door where Ceann had laid Ella down on the bed, and was frantically stroking her hair and calling her name. Maggie turned to Ethan, her face set in a business-like expression.
“Keep him away from her so I can work.” Then she turned to the doorway, where a small crowd had already gathered. “Fiona! Fetch hot water, linens, all the usual supplies.”
The woman ran to do her bidding, and Maggie shut the door, leaving the others in the hallway to wait and wonder.
Ethan was struggling to pull Ceann away from the bed, talking to him in a placating tone, words of reassurance that Maggie knew what she was doing. Ceann did not hear him. He moved away for Maggie when she came to the bedside, but his eyes were still wild with fear. “Help her! Do something!”
Ella opened her eyes at his shouting. “Ceann? What happened?”
Maggie smoothed her forehead with a damp cloth. “It’s alright dear, you only fainted. You’re home, in your own bed. Let’s have a look at you now, sweetling.”
Ella nodded, but then suddenly squeezed her eyes shut and sat up, bending forward and crying out in pain. Ceann lunged forward, breaking free from Ethan’s grasp.
“What’s wrong with her? Do something!” he demanded. He took Ella’s hand in his and knelt by the bed.
Maggie shoved him aside with her elbow. “Ella dear, how long have the pains been coming?”
“Since… since this morning, early… I… Oh God!” She doubled over again on a sob of agony.
Fiona slipped back into the room and joined Maggie at the bedside with the things she had asked for. Maggie smiled now. “Ah, just in time, this child won’t wait any longer.”
A grin spread across Ethan’s face. “The babe is coming?” He slapped Ceann on the back. “Did you hear that? You’re about to be a father!”
Ceann only growled and shoved at Ethan, who gave him a rueful look. “He doesn’t hear a word I say.”
Ella collapsed back onto the pillows now, panting and gasping. Only seconds later she cried out again.
“That’s it dear”, Maggie was saying. “Not long now, another push!”
Ella leaned forward and pushed with all her might.
She only wanted the pain to stop. She was vaguely aware of Ceann squeezing her hand and yelling at Maggie, demanding that the woman save her from dying.
There was so much pain, maybe it would be better to die…
but no, there was the baby, her son. Ceann’s son.
She drew a deep breath and with the next pain, she brought their child into the world.
Maggie grasped the slippery babe, holding him up for Ella to see, before accepting a linen cloth from Fiona and wiping clean his nose and mouth.
“You have a fine son!” she said proudly.
The babe promptly scrunched up his face and squalled. Maggie handed him to Fiona to be cleaned off while she tended to Ella, still showering her with praise for a job well done.
Ella looked up at Ceann with a tired but blissful smile. “We have a son.” She almost laughed at the bewildered expression on his face.
“I thought I was going to lose you…” He was at a loss for words.
“I don’t ever want to go through that again!
” He leaned over and kissed his wife tenderly, smoothing her hair back from her cheek.
Relief flooded through him like a river.
She was alive. Just then, Fiona appeared at his side, holding a small bundle.
“Your son, Laird.” She put the bundle into his arms.
Ceann gasped in a little breath. “My son”.
He looked down at the tiny bundle in his arms. Those were words he had long thought he would never say.
The baby squirmed and pummeled him with a small fist. “He is strong. A little warrior already.” He felt the tears well up and could not stop them before one rolled down his cheek.
He turned to Ethan, who was watching him with eyes that also looked suspiciously damp.
He held the baby up for him to see. “I have a son.” He knew he was grinning like an idiot, but he didn’t care.
Maggie and Fiona had finished cleaning up Ella and making her comfortable.
She was watching Ceann holding his new son, her own eyes full of happy tears.
She desperately wanted to hold her child, to look at every tiny, perfect inch of him, but she would let Ceann have this moment.
To see a big, powerful warrior holding such a tiny newborn babe so tenderly made her smile.
The happiness she felt bubbled up inside of her until she felt like laughing out loud with it. Then Maggie took charge again.
“Laird, give the bairn to its mother now, he needs to eat. After that you can take him down to the hall and show him off as I’m sure you’re wont to do. Come on, now.”
Ceann smiled and put the baby carefully in Ella’s arms, then knelt at the bedside.
His son immediately turned his head and flailed his arms, trying to find his mother’s breast. When he didn’t succeed, he scrunched up his face and wailed.
Ella put him gently to her breast and he began to suck hungrily.
Ceann’s smile widened. “Ah he knows a good thing when he sees it, smart lad.” He leaned over and gave Ella a soft, lingering kiss, love glowing bright in his eyes. “Thank you. There is naught more on this earth that I could want, than what is before me right now.”
“Nor I”, Ella said. She looked down at the tiny newborn. A miracle, that they were both safe. “He has your hair”, she said. “Look, it’s the same color. And your eyes, I think.” She grimaced. “Ow! And your appetite!”
Later, after his son had had his fill and his wife was sleeping safe and sound, Ceann wrapped the baby in swaddling and took him down to the hall, where everyone was gathered for the evening meal.
They all looked up expectantly as he approached the dais.
He stood before his people and broke into a wide smile, holding up the child for all to see.
“My son! Artair, future Laird of Tulloch!”
The cheers that rose up then, he would remember for the rest of his life.