Page 37 of The Highlander’s Enchanted Healer (Spellbound Hearts #2)

I ran a hand over my rounded belly, waiting with breathless anticipation, and just as my bairn always did, she turned inside me to get comfortable for our nap.

I smiled as I watched my stomach ripple, amazed as always that there was a life moving and growing inside me, and soon this little lass would make Ross and me a mama and a da.

Just as I snuggled down into the soft feather mattress of my bed and pulled the coverlet over my legs to ward off any chill, the bedroom door creaked open.

I forced open the heavy eyelids that I had just shut, and my belly tightened as my heart fluttered at the sight of Ross striding in.

He wore nothing but low-hanging braies that clung to his hip bones and gave me a nice view of his muscled stomach, broad expanse of chest, and thick, protective arms I loved wrapped around me so much.

“I’m sorry to interrupt yer afternoon sleep, lass,” Ross said, striding across our bedchamber toward me.

As I sat up, I noted he had his practice sword clutched in one hand and what appeared to be a missive clutched in the other.

My chest squeeze with anticipation. “Is that from Murieall?” She was the only one who had yet to respond to my request for her to be present when my daughter—I knew in my soul I’d be having a daughter, and I’d already started thinking of her as Beatrix—was born.

Freya and Katreine had already confirmed that they would be here to aid me in the baby’s birth.

Ross nodded. “Aye, mo chridhe. A rider just brought it.” He sat down beside me, the bed dipping with his weight, and he handed it to me.

I took it but hesitated to open it. I wanted Murieall and my other two closest friends here so much, but I knew being around a castle full of people was difficult for Murieall, given the curse Morgana had put upon her to hear the voices of the dead.

Ross brushed a kiss on my bare shoulder, and desire tightened my lower belly. Just then, Beatrix gave a kick. “Ah!” I exclaimed.

“What is it?” Ross asked, concern laced in his voice and worry etched in the fine lines around his loving eyes.

“’Tis nae anything to be worried over. Beatrix just kicked ’tis all.”

He immediately grinned and reached for the edge of my léine to pull it up.

I let him, glad he was always just as excited as I was to feel the movement of our child within me.

His large, warm, calloused hand splayed over my belly, and we sat in breathless anticipation waiting for her next move.

Beatrix did not make us wait long. She gave another kick as if to say, I’m almost ready to come out!

“The lad has a good strong leg!” Ross crowed.

I frowned at him, albeit playfully. “I told ye,” I said, giving him a playful poke in the arm, “’tis a lass, and we agreed her name is Beatrix.”

He cupped my face in his hands and then gave me a long, lingering kiss that stole my breath.

When he pulled away, I gaped like a clot-heid under the spell of passion.

“I agreed we would call our daughter Beatrix if our bairn is, indeed, a wee lassie that ye birth. I still think we are going to get a wee lad,” he said, kissing me on my forehead, the tip of my nose, and then my lips again.

When he pulled away once more, I gave him a pointed look.

“If ye keep doing that, ye’ll nae be going back to training before supper, and I’ll nae have a nap. ”

“Well then, I best stop,” he said, smiling at me.

“I told ye the time would come that ye did nae want me,” I said, my ever-roiling emotions moving toward hurt feelings.

“Ah, lass,” Ross said gently, bending over to press a kiss to my belly.

Desire shot straight through me, and when he looked up and I saw the flame of need in his eyes, I turned liquid inside.

“Believe me, I want ye. Ye are glowing and bonny, and yer belly is only a reminder to me that ye are about to be the mama of our son.”

I poked him in his hard chest. “Our daughter. And if ye want me, why did ye say ye best stop?”

“Ye’ve dark smudges under yer eyes, lass, and ye tossed and turned all night.

I ken ye need yer sleep, and so does our child,” he said, resting his hand over my belly once more.

“The only reason I brought ye the missive and interrupted yer rest is because I also ken ye have been fretting over if Murieall will attend yer birthing, and I thought having an answer, either way, might give ye some peace.”

I nodded, and mollified by his explanation, I inhaled a long breath and then opened the missive clutched in my hand.

Dearest Elena,

I’m sorry it has taken me a spell to answer yer missive, but I have wrestled with what to do.

I can nae come. I’m sorry! I ken how disappointed ye will be, but I am nae who I was.

I do nae sleep because the voices keep me up all night long.

I am desperate, Elena. I’ve decided to venture back to the Isle of Skye, seek out Morgana, and beg her to tell me how to break the curse she put upon me.

I can nae go on living this way. I’ll write when I’ve returned.

Yers truly,

Murieall

I folded the letter, feeling Ross’s concerned gaze upon me. “Is she coming?” he asked.

I looked up and met his gaze, then swallowed past the lump in my throat. “Nay,” I finally answered. “She’s going to see Morgana.”

“The witch?”

“Aye. Murieall says she can nae go on living this way.”

“Do you want me to ride to her home and go with her?”

Love for Ross rushed through me. “Nay, but I love that ye would do that because ye ken she’s important to me.

I need ye here, though. Of course I’m disappointed, but I understand the desperation she is feeling to rid herself of the curse.

” I recalled for a moment how much I had wanted to rid myself of my power to read minds, and the relief that I’d been able to do so washed over me now as it often did.

Ross pulled me into his arms as I fell silent and allowed me to nestle into him, but even as I did, I said, “Do ye nae need to go train?”

“The men can train with Allan,” he replied and rested his chin on top of my head. “And even if they could nae,” he added as my eyelids fluttered shut, “I’d stay here. Ye are the most important person in this world to me, Eleana. Ye and Beatrix.”

My eyelids flew open at that, and I gazed up at his strong profile as he looked down and met my stare. “So ye do believe it’s a lass!” I exclaimed.

“Of course I do,” he replied with a teasing note. “I’m nae a fool. I ken ye’re always right, but when I challenge ye, ye get this fiery defiant look in yer eyes, and it usually ends with us without our clothes.”

I burst out laughing at that because it was true. “Well, then, challenge me, Husband,” I said suggestively and threw my leg over his.

His fingers came instantly to my breast, and he circled my nipple, lighting the flame within me.

“Only if ye promise to sleep for as long as ye need after and do nae fash yerself about showing yer lovely face in the great hall this night. I will bring a tray into our bedchamber and take supper with ye.”

“’Tis an offer I can nae refuse,” I replied and trailed my hand down the hard planes of his stomach to his solid thigh that I loved to be encased between. “Now seduce me husband.”

“Glady, my sweet wife.”

Thank you so much for reading The Highlander’s Enchanted Healer !

If you love sweeping epic romances that take you on rollicking adventures through the highlands and have interconnected family stories, then you’ll love my ten book series Highlander Vows: Entangled Hearts , that starts with the USA Today bestselling When a Laird Loves a Lady !

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If you’re looking for something sexy, sweet, and romantic, you’ll fall in love with my Of Mist and Mountains series, starting with Highland Hope ! Sometimes the one you love is the very one you cannot have.

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Read below for an excerpt from When a Laird Loves a Lady …

One

England, 1357

Faking her death would be simple. It was escaping her home that would be difficult.

Marion de Lacy stared hard into the slowly darkening sky, thinking about the plan she intended to put into action tomorrow—if all went well—but growing uneasiness tightened her belly.

From where she stood in the bailey, she counted the guards up in the tower.

It was not her imagination: Father had tripled the knights keeping guard at all times, as if he was expecting trouble.

Taking a deep breath of the damp air, she pulled her mother’s cloak tighter around her to ward off the twilight chill.

A lump lodged in her throat as the wool scratched her neck.

In the many years since her mother had been gone, Marion had both hated and loved this cloak for the death and life it represented.

Her mother’s freesia scent had long since faded from the garment, yet simply calling up a memory of her mother wearing it gave Marion comfort.