Page 17 of Wed to the Highlander (Impromptu Brides #2)

After weeks of chaos, the days following her disastrous game of shinty brought unexpected peace.

There were no new crises. No messengers with bad news.

No fires, no feuds, no summons that pulled Duncan away.

Instead, he was present—not just in proximity but truly there.

He sat beside her at breakfast, sharing plans for the day, and again at supper, quietly speaking of the clan’s future.

Twice, he found time for morning rides and kissed her breathless beneath the budding rowan trees.

At night, he worshipped her body slowly, until her breath hitched and her fingers clutched at his shoulders or twisted in his hair, loving her so thoroughly she forgot where she ended and he began.

To her great relief, there were no whispers or shadows, and when she slept in her husband’s arms, no bad dreams.

She began to believe he was right. It was the drafty, creaky old castle all along.

The only imperfection in her otherwise perfect week was that Duncan was not an idle man. He kept busy during the day, and Maggie, used to staying active, grew restless. She wasn’t suited to embroidery or idle gossip, but she was the lady of the castle now and could at least try to belong to it.

So, she sought out Fiona, who suggested the candle room.

The heat from the low fires, the mingling scents of beeswax and bayberry, and the rhythmic motion of the work left Maggie flushed.

She tied her hair back with a strip of muslin, rolled her sleeves to her elbows, and laughed with the village women as they dipped and hung the slowly thickening tapers.

Midway through the morning, she had the hang of it, one of the older women teasing that she’d at last found her calling—in wax.

The others laughed good-naturedly, and the conversation flowed.

Much of it was gossip, which made her feel as though she was back in Mayfair.

But her own laughter suddenly dimmed. She swayed, a hand braced on the table, wax dripping onto the stone floor as her vision swam.

Her skin went clammy, and her knees buckled just enough to set off a chorus of alarmed gasps.

Fiona caught her around the shoulders. “I’ve got you, my lady.”

She helped her to a chair as the others circled around her, asking questions.

“Are ye ill, lady?”

“What did ye eat for breakfast?”

“It’s the heat,” another said. “We’ve bypassed spring and gone straight to summer.”

“I became dizzy,” Maggie stated. “But I think it’s passing.”

She tried to rise, but her knees wouldn’t hold her. In addition, her stomach roiled.

“Jeannie—fetch the laird,” Fiona ordered.

By the time Duncan burst into the room, Maggie was perched on a stool with one of the women fanning her. She tried to smile at him, but the room spun, and it faded.

He strode across the room and lifted her into his arms, and she didn’t give so much as a peep of protest.

Duncan carried her all the way to their chamber, barking orders at a startled footman on the way. When the door closed behind them, he set her gently on the bed.

“You’re pale as milk,” he muttered, crouching to remove her slippers.

“I think it was the heat. The room was quite warm. I’m feeling better now.”

His glare said he didn’t believe her. “Jeannie said you fainted.”

“I didn’t faint . I became dizzy and swayed a little.”

He arched a brow. “You’ve been tired. Moody. And you don’t eat nearly enough. No wonder you’re lightheaded.”

She shrugged one shoulder. “I’ve been a bit off, I suppose.”

“You’re not off, Maggie.” His voice softened; his fingers tucked a few wayward hairs behind her ear. “You’re carrying my child.”

Her breath caught. “I hadn’t... Do you truly believe... It’s so soon...” she stammered, a swell of emotion rising in her chest.

“We’ve been wed two months . And during that time, have been very active.” He kissed her forehead. “You’re more beautiful than ever. Glowing, as they say.”

She huffed a disbelieving laugh. “That’s poetic for a woman who almost threw up in the sugar barrel two mornings ago.”

He chuckled then sobered, green eyes earnest. “Does this news make you happy?”

Her eyes misted. “Yes. What about you?”

“I’m over the moon, lass. ’Tis a dream come true.”

“And a bequest fulfilled.”

As silence descended, she felt a pang of regret. The joy of a moment before snatched away by her ill-considered words.

“I thought we were beyond this.”

“Me too. I mean, I am... It’s just hard not to notice how perfectly it all aligned: the marriage, the baby, and now, the inheritance.” She couldn’t hide her lingering cynicism when she added, “Your grandfather Angus would be delighted.”

He stood, the stillness within him thunderous, then it exploded.

“Damn it, woman. What will it take?” His voice cracked—not with anger but something rawer.

“Have I not shown my devotion? Every day? Every night?” He paced away, raking his fingers through his hair in obvious frustration.

“I’ve said I love you. What must I do to convince you of that fact?

Forfeit a fortune and leave my kin destitute? ”

“Of course not,” she whispered. “I’d not have them starve or lose their homes because of me.”

“Two things can be true at once,” he uttered fiercely. “Yes, I needed to marry. Yes, the inheritance mattered. But I could’ve married anyone.” He turned, crossing back to her, and sank onto the edge of the bed. “I chose you because I love you . You were a rainbow in the rain. A beacon in a storm.”

Tears brimmed, and she gripped his hand. “I love you, too. I have always loved you.”

“Then believe in me,” he murmured, gathering her close. “Because it’s real. This. Us. All real. But I’d be lying if I said it’s the only thing that matters. I can’t just ignore the hundreds of MacPhersons depending on me.” He laid his hand on her belly and whispered, “Depending on us.”

A knock came at the door. Always an interruption.

“What is it?” he snapped.

“A message, my lord,” a voice called. “There’s trouble at Glen Morven.”

Duncan swore under his breath.

“The calm was too good to last,” she murmured, leaning heavily against him.

“No truer words…”

“Go,” she urged when she really didn’t want to. “I’m feeling much better now. Truly.”

“I’ll send Lachlan.”

She laid her hand on his cheek and urged, “You’re exactly right. Your people are depending on you, and I’m not going anywhere.”

“You had better no’. And they’re our people,” he corrected strongly. Then, in a more controlled voice, “I’ll try to be back by nightfall.”

“Are you still vexed with me?” she asked, although she suspected seeing the tension in his jaw.

He framed her face with big, work-roughened hands. “No’ angry. Frustrated you can’t see what’s clear as day.”

She tried to speak, but he kissed her—soft and deep and lingering.

When he drew away, he rested his brow against hers. “We’ll talk more when I get home.”

She nodded, preferring not to bring up her faux pas again, however.

His hand slid protectively over her stomach. “You must take extra care now, mo chridhe . Of both of you.”

Then he strode out the door and was gone.

She pressed her hand to her belly, still stunned by the truth of it. A child. Their child. For the first time, she felt the stirrings of hope. It was bittersweet because she also wanted to share her happy news with Cici and Andrew and her mother.