The Captive Heart

Chapter Twelve

As the great party of horsemen drew nearer, Alix could see they had brought some kind of weapon with them. It rolled along on its own wheels and appeared to be a long log with an animal's head fashioned from iron at one end. She had heard of battering rams, but she had never before seen one. The front door to Wulfborn Hall was strong, but it would certainly not withstand the assault it was about to receive. Suddenly the two men shoveling noticed the approaching party. They fled back towards the house, shouting a warning. Alix considered what to do. Should they remain safe in her chamber, or go below into the hall?

Bab decided for them. "We should remain here, my lady," she said. " 'Twill be better. Once the door is broken through the hall will be the center of the fighting. Sir Udolf is no coward, and he will defend his home and all he believes is his."

Alix nodded. Bab was right in everything she said, but the Laird of Dunglais's wife knew her captor did not have the men to overcome the great group of Scots borderers. "Add more wood to the fire, Bab," she said. "The morning is yet chill." Then she went to her window to watch as her rescuers arrived, milling about before the front of the house. Pushing the narrow casement window open, she called down, "My lords, I bid you welcome. I am more than ready to come home."

The borderers, seeing her, hearing her words, cheered lustily, their horses stamping and snorting in the icy morning.

"I am relieved to see you, lambkin," the Laird of Dunglais called up to his wife. "Is your chamber secure?"

"It is, my lord," Alix assured him. She could see his breath in the cold air.

"Then remain where you are until this is over," he advised her.

"Do not kill him, Colm," Alix warned. "I do not want the death of a madman on my soul, or yours. Do what you must, but leave Sir Udolf alive to face his own demons."

" 'Tis poor advice, lady," and to her surprise Alix recognized Adam Hepburn. "A madman cannot be swayed in his thought or else he would not be mad. If you do not kill him, he will return again and again to trouble you until he is dead."

"I believe today's lesson coupled with that of my husband's last visit will convince Sir Udolf of his folly," Alix replied.

"I think you wrong, lambkin," Malcolm Scott said, "but I will attempt to follow your wishes, for the sake of our child you carry."

"Grand merci, my lord," she answered him with a smile, and drew the casement closed. Turning to Bab she said, "You had best pack our belongings." Then she began to dress herself for travel, pulling on a gown of dark blue jersey she had left behind when she had originally fled Wulfborn over two years ago. She could not wear the breeks she favored for riding any longer, and would, she knew, have to ride sidesaddle. It would be an uncomfortable journey, but she would make it if it meant getting safely home to Dunglais and her own hall. Suddenly they heard a great booming sound. The house shuddered and shook.

"They're storming the house," Bab said, and she chortled. "Ohh, I should like to see Sir Udolf's face right now."

The noise and the effect it caused came again and again and again. A great shout arose. There was a final boom, and the two women actually heard the door give way as the battering ram shattered the ancient iron-bound oak. A mighty howl was emitted from the borderers, and then they pushed into Wulfborn Hall, meeting absolutely no resistance from the servants, who had all hidden themselves away for fear of being carried off into bondage. Half charging into the great hall of the house, they faced Father Peter and Sir Udolf Watteson.

"I've come for my wife," the Laird of Dunglais said quietly.

"You will have to fight me for her," Sir Udolf cried, and he charged at Malcolm Scott, waving his sword.

The laird disarmed him easily, skillfully knocking his attacker's weapon from his hand with his own sword. "I will not fight you, my lord. My wife has asked that your life be spared in spite of the misery you have caused us. While I disagree with her, I will grant her this boon for the sake of the son she carries."

"Coward!" Sir Udolf shouted. "Will you hide behind her skirts? Alix is mine! I have a dispensation from York to make her my wife. I will give you the child she bears for you, but she is mine! I will not give her up! I will not!"

Suddenly Adam Hepburn stepped forward. Reaching out, he grasped Sir Udolf by the neck of his dark robe, pulling him forward so that they were face-to-face. "Old man," he growled, "I did not promise to leave you unharmed One more word out of you, and I will slit your throat with the greatest of pleasure." He then shoved the Englishman to the floor, saying as he did, "Priest! See to your master. We are through here, and enough time has been wasted on this matter."

While he had spoken, the Ferguson of Drumcairn had gone with several of his own men upstairs, and was calling for Alix to come out, which she did, Bab behind her.

"Uncle, I am happy to see you," Alix said.

He stared at her big belly for a moment and then, grinning, said, " 'Tis a lad. My Maggie never carried as big. Well, come along now, lass. 'Tis past time we got you home. Your man is in the hall finishing up that bit of business."

"He had not harmed poor Sir Udolf, has he?" Alix asked.

"Nay, he's given in to you, but from what I see of the man he would be better off dead and gone. Now, have you anything you would take with you here?"

"The small trunk at the foot of the bed was mine when I first came with Queen Margaret. I should like to have it back," Alix told him.

"Bring it, lads," Robert Ferguson said. Then he eyed Bab. "And her?"

"Bab comes with me," Alix told him.

He nodded. "Well, then, let us be off. I think it best you not bid the Englishman farewell. Hepburn felt it necessary to speak rather firmly with him. No need to set the man off again in his madness." He led the two women downstairs, moving quickly past the wide entry to the great hall of the house.

Outside, to her surprise, Alix saw a small padded cart had been brought. Her escort led her to it. "This is for me?" she said.

"You can hardly ride with that belly," Robert Ferguson said.

"There are two horses in the stables that are mine. I won't leave without them," Alix told her husband's uncle.

"Two horses?" he said.

"When I originally fled Wulfborn I went on foot. I thought if my horse was found missing they would know I was gone. But the beast is mine, and I would have it back. My father, God assoil him, gave it to me. Bab knows which of the horses are mine," Alix explained. "Send one of your men with her to get them, I beg you."

The Ferguson of Drumcairn nodded, and dispatched a man to go with Bab. Then he helped Alix into the padded cart, laying a heavy fur blanket over her lap. "I'll go tell Colm you're safe and ready to leave," he said. Then he hurried back into the house, going directly to the great hall.

Sir Udolf and the priest were both being carefully bound and then tied into chairs by the hearth. Several of the laird's men had found the frightened servants. They secured them also and locked them in the pantry, a small windowless room with but one entrance, barring that entry. Eventually someone would manage to get free and would free the rest of the house's inhabitants. And it was very unlikely that anyone would come after the Scots borderers. Sir Udolf had few retainers left.

"Alix is in her conveyance, Nephew," Robert Ferguson said. "Come along now. I believe our business here is finished and the weather is lowering. We have a fair ways to travel, and the cart will slow us down, I fear, but the lady cannot ride. Her belly is large."

Without a further glance back at Sir Udolf Watteson, who was muttering in his chair, Malcolm Scott dashed outside to greet his wife. She was seated on the cart's padded bench wrapped in furs. Climbing up, he kissed her a hard kiss.

Alix melted in his embrace, her lips softening beneath his, sighing as he released her. "Good morrow, my lord husband," she said, smiling. "Thank you for coming for me. Your son and I are anxious to go home."

His big hand caressed her small face. "I can hardly believe you are here with me," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I will never allow you to be put in such danger again, lambkin. Forgive me!"

"Oh, Colm, how could you-how could we-know that in his madness Sir Udolf would have me kidnapped? 'Twas not your fault. We are together again, and I will not be parted from you evermore." She kissed his lips softly.

The Laird of Dunglais smiled down at his wife and then he saw the other woman seated in the rear of the cart, along with a small trunk. "Who is this?" he asked Alix.

"Bab was my servant when I lived at Wulfborn before. After I fled, Sir Udolf treated her cruelly, beating her without just cause and blaming her for my flight. She was not, of course, responsible, for she did not know of my plans. I will not leave her again, Colm. She will care for the bairn when he is born."

"If she has served you well and suffered for your sake, then she will be welcome to Dunglais," the laird said, nodding at Bab. Then he saw the two horses tied to the back of the little cart. "I recognize the mare, but the gelding?"

Alix explained, and he chuckled.

"I am pleased to see you are becoming more Scots with each passing day, lambkin. If the beast is yours, then to leave it a second time would be foolish. Your frugality delights me."

"The creature is used to carrying a female upon its back," Alix said. "I think it will prove a safe and reliable mount for Fiona. She is really becoming too big for her pony. One thing before we go, my lord. I would visit my father's grave a final time."

He nodded. "We will stop, lambkin," he promised her.

The great group of borderers had finally exited the house and were mounting up. An older Scott clansman climbed up next to Alix, nodding briefly to her and taking the reins of the horses that would pull the cart. She was surprised to see that there were four animals for the vehicle and not two. Then Alix realized that with four, the cart could move a bit quicker without jostling its occupants too roughly.

They moved off, stopping briefly at the burial ground on the hill where Alix bid a final farewell to her father and then left Wulfborn Hall behind them. The attack had come at dawn, and as there had been no defense made against their incursion it was still early morning. They traveled without stopping until the sun was at mid-heaven. Alix was ravenous, for there had been no time for Bab to find her breakfast. She gobbled the oatcakes and hard cheese her husband brought her eagerly. Then she swallowed down the cold water in his flask.

"Is there any place we can shelter tonight?" she asked the laird.

He shook his head. "Nay, but you and your woman can sleep comfortably in the cart. We can put an awning over you to protect you more."

"I need hot food," she told him.

"We set traps as we came. We'll have roasted rabbit for certain tonight, my lambkin. I know this is difficult for you, but we will be home soon," he murmured to her encouragingly, and kissed her forehead.

She smiled at him, but Alix knew better. The cart was slowing them down. It would be another full day of traveling, and then perhaps another half. But there was no help for it. She simply could not ride. But if she had one consolation it was that she would be home just in time for Christmas. That night, and the night after, she and Bab shared the large fur robe, huddling together to keep warm. Light snow came in short bursts as they traveled, but then it was winter and snow was to be expected. Midmorning of their second day of traveling the laird announced to them that they were once more in Scotland. Alix was relieved to learn it. It wasn't that she expected Sir Udolf to have escaped his bonds, gather a party of soldiers, and come after her. Nay, it wasn't that. It was just she had come to think of Scotland as her home.

Their second night on the road the snow was a little heavier and more sustained. It was so bitterly cold, although the wind was calm. Wrapping her cloak about her, Alix shivered nonetheless. She caressed her belly with her gloved hands more to reassure herself than anything else. Her child was most active and seemed to be dancing a jig within her womb. She slept sporadically, although Bab snored contentedly by her side.

Alix was not unhappy when the morning finally came. Colm had reassured her that they would get home by midday. The great party of Ferguson and Hepburn clansmen were still riding with them. Now Alix began to worry about, how they were to be fed and housed before traveling on the morrow to their own homes. But certainly Fenella would be prepared for them, she finally decided.

And then through the gray she finally saw the shadowed outline of Dunglais Keep. She pointed it out to Bab excitedly. "We're almost home!" Alix declared, smiling.

"It looks a rough place," Bab said softly, nervously.

"The keep is older than Wulfborn, 'tis true, but inside it is warm and cozy," Alix told her serving woman. "But should you be unhappy, I will send you back to England in the spring."

"Nay," Bab said in a resigned voice. "There is no place for me there now."

Alix reached out and patted the older woman's hand comfortingly. She had never known the quick-tongued Bab to be so subdued. She almost felt sorry for her, but then, she decided, as soon as Bab recovered from the shock of what had happened and regained her footing she would be as sharp as ever. "Fenella is the housekeeper, and I will put you in her charge," Alix said. "Respect her and the position she holds within the house and she will help you. I know it cannot be easy starting all over again, Bab, but you are a strong woman. This is not Wulfborn. It is a better, happier place."

The cart trundled up the hill to the keep. The laird had ridden on ahead to identify himself and their party. The little drawbridge was already lowered by the time they reached it. The cart rolled over it and into the courtyard. The laird was there at once to help his wife out of her vehicle. Beinn hoisted Bab from her place, setting her upon her feet, which were numb with the cold. Bab thanked him, and he nodded politely in response. Then she followed Alix into the keep.

When they reached the hall, a little girl dashed forward, half laughing, half crying. She flung herself at Alix, who caught the child in her arms and hugged her hard. "Oh, Mam, I was so afraid I had lost you like I lost the other one," Fiona cried. "I am so glad you are home." Then she stepped back from Alix and her eyes widened. "Oh, you are so fat with my brother, Alix! Will he come soon?" Her gaze swung to Bab. "Who is this?" she asked, curiously eying the older woman.

"This is Bab, who took care of me at Wulfborn when I lived there. When I left the first time I had to leave her behind. I would not leave her this time," Alix explained.

"But Jeannie takes care of you!" Fiona said.

"And she will continue to take care of me. Bab will be nurse to the new baby," Alix told her stepdaughter.

"Oh, then that is all right," Fiona replied. "Has Fenella met her?"

"As we have just this moment arrived, nay, but she will," Alix said.

And at that same moment Fenella hurried into the hall, her face wreathed in smiles as she embraced Alix. "My lady, welcome home! Oh my, the bairn grows, doesn't he?" She looked to the unfamiliar woman with her mistress.

"This is Bab." Alix explained briefly the relationship between them. "She will be nurse to my child."

"Very good, my lady," Fenella said in a neutral voice. "And I will see she has someone to help her. Taking care of an infant is not an easy task at any age." But then Fenella's good nature got the better of her. "You look fair frozen, Bab. Come with me to the kitchens, and I will see you are fed and warmed." And she led Bab off.

Fiona had not left Alix's side. Now she slipped her hand into her stepmother's and walked with her to the hearth so Alix might be seated and get warm. "You missed my birthday," Fiona told Alix. "I am eight now."

"The hall looks beautiful," Alix said. "Did you oversee the decorations, my lass?"

Fiona grinned proudly. "I did!" she crowed. "I wanted it to be perfect when you arrived." She snuggled against Alix. "It's almost Christmas. I know what Da is giving you on the first day of Christmas! Do you want me to tell you?"

"Nay!" Alix said, laughing. "Then it would not be a surprise."

The laird came and knelt before her to draw her boots and wet stockings off. He saw Alix's feet were red with the cold and swollen. "Have Jeannie fetch your mam's slippers," he told his daughter as he began to rub Alix's feet gently to restore the circulation to them. "You should be in bed," he told her.

"Nay, not yet," Alix said. "I want to sit by my own hearth and just revel in my happiness at being home, Colm. Let me remain, and let me eat at my own board. I will go to bed afterward, I promise. Oh, that feels so good!"

"You are a sensuous creature. I have missed you greatly," he told her, as he had at least a dozen times a day since they had been reunited.

Alix reached out to caress his face gently with her soft hand. He caught the hand up and kissed it tenderly. She sighed, and the sound was one of pure happiness. His hand then reached out to touch her belly. He lay his palm flat, and Alix placed her hand over his, pressing down slightly to see if the child would stir. It did, turning itself about, and a look of pure wonder filled the laird's face. "That is our bairn," she told him, and smiled. "He is strong, isn't he? And already determined to have his own way."

"I can feel him stirring strongly within you," Malcolm Scott said, amazed.

Alix laughed again. "Sometimes I cannot sleep for all his dancing."

Jeannie hurried into the hall carrying a pair of Alix's house slippers, which were lined with lamb's wool. "Welcome home, my lady," she said, and then as the laird arose, she knelt and slipped the slippers on Alix's feet, which were now a little warmer due to the fire and her husband's ministrations.

After a short time had passed the meal was served. Alix was helped to the table. Now that her feet were tingling with warmth again it was difficult to walk at first. But her appetite was excellent, especially as the food had come from her own kitchen. There was sliced trout with lemon, a large bowl of lamb stew with chunks of carrot and leek in a rich gravy, a fat roasted duck, bread, butter, and cheese. Alix ate greedily, her hazel eyes widening with delight when Fenella brought a dish of baked apples to table.

"It is all so good," she told the housekeeper. "And I have been starving for baked apples, Fenella. And they've been baked with sugar and cinnamon!" She splashed on some thick yellow cream from the pitcher Fenella handed her. "Ummm!" she approved, spooning some of the apple into her mouth.

"We never had baked apples at all while you were gone," Fiona said. "And they are my favorites too!" She sat as near as she could to her stepmother. "Promise me you will never leave me again, Alix," she begged. "And not just because I love baked apples."

"As long as the choice is mine to make, ma petite, I will not leave you again," Alix told her, putting an arm about the child's thin shoulders and giving her a small hug. "But one day you will leave your da and me to marry."

"Nay," Fiona said. "I love only you and Da. And my new brother."

Alix kissed the top of Fiona's dark head. Poor child, she thought. She has really suffered the lack of her mother, but I am her mother now. I will take care of her.

When the meal was over the laird wanted his wife to retire immediately, but now that her feet were warm she felt better. "Let me sit by the hearth and listen to the piper," she said with a smile, and unable to deny her anything, Malcolm Scott acquiesced. His heart contracted with pleasure to watch Alix seated happily by the fire, Fiona sitting upon a stool, her head in her stepmother's lap while Alix stroked the little girl's long hair soothingly. He had never imagined such contentment existed until now.

The piper played sweetly that night, and soon Fiona's eyes fell shut. At a nod from Alix, the laird came, and carried his daughter upstairs, where Fenella waited to tuck the child into her bed. Returning to the hall, he came to sit by Alix's side. "It is good to have you home again, lambkin," he told her. "We have all missed you."

"I never realized before how the lack of her mother has hurt Fiona," Alix said.

"I do not think she has ever missed Robena," Malcolm Scott said candidly. "It is you she missed, for you are the mother she knows and loves." He took her hand and kissed it. "And I missed the wife I know and love. I am so sorry you had to suffer the difficulties of being kidnapped. How on earth did Sir Udolf discover you were here?"

"Bab told me one of his men took one of our maidservants to the stable loft that night they stayed at Dunglais. He obviously learned I was here then and reported to his master, who made plans to regain my person. I spoke with the Wulfborn priest, Father Peter. When I told him how we had come to wed and that Father Donald had said we were free to do so, he as good as admitted that Sir Udolf paid a large bribe to get that dispensation. The priest has been attempting to get his master to let him find another wife of childbearing years and of good family. Sir Udolf briefly agreed, but then decided he must have me back. Father Peter said there was no reasoning with him."

"You should have let me kill him," the laird said. "The man is touched by madness and will not give up."

"Oh, surely not, Colm!" Alix exclaimed. "Certainly now after what happened he will understand I am your wife and that is the end of it. His village is destroyed, his livestock gone, and his people disbursed. It must be obvious to him I am more trouble to him than worth." She looked up at him. "I think I am ready to go to bed now, my lord. Will you take me up?"

He smiled a slow smile and, standing, drew her to her feet. "Gladly, madame," he told her, and together they left the hall and mounted the stairs hand in hand.

In their bedchamber he helped her to disrobe, drawing off her gown and her chemise. He admired her ripening body, standing behind her to cup her full breasts in his hands. The rough balls of his thumbs stroked her nipples, and throwing her head back against his shoulder, Alix sighed with pure pleasure. His hands now moved to caress her swollen belly, and she quivered beneath his touch. "Ah, lambkin," he groaned in her ear, "I lust for you, but would not harm the bairn. Can we? Dare we?" His lips trailed down her slender throat and across her rounded shoulder.

"Aye, we can," she murmured, "but we must be careful."

"Get into bed while I shed my clothing," he said, helping her beneath the coverlet. Then he quickly pulled his garments and his boots off.

Alix lay there watching him. His physique was strong and well muscled. She had missed the feel of his body against hers. And his eagerness for her was evident. His cock was swollen and bobbed about. Alix rolled onto to her side as her husband entered the bed. His hand fastened itself about a breast, playing with the nipple. She felt his warm kiss on the nape of her neck. His tongue traced the shape of her ear, and he nipped upon the earlobe.

"I love you, lambkin," he told her. "And the thought of that man putting his hands upon you, kissing you, almost drove me to madness," the laird breathed in her ear.

"He never touched me or kissed me," Alix told him. "He was too intent upon being courtly when I arrived, and after scolding him I locked myself in my bedchamber with Bab. I did not come out until you came for me."

"And he permitted you that behavior?" Malcolm Scott was surprised, although he believed his wife's tale. "I would have broken the door down to reach you."

"I think the fact I flaunted my belly surprised him," Alix said. "Ummm, that is nice," she purred as his hand now stroked her belly and his fingers found their way between her plump nether lips to tease her. She squirmed with her rising excitement, grinding her bottom into him. "I have so longed for your passion these past weeks, Colm, my dear lord, and I so desperately desire to be fucked," Alix admitted to him.

"And I so need to fuck you, lambkin," he told her fiercely. She was wet with her arousal, and he tenderly entered her as they lay together on their sides. His hands stroked her full breasts, alternately kissing and nipping the nape of her neck.

He filled her, and Alix sighed with the pleasure she was gaining just by having him inside of her. And when he began to thrust gently she gasped, surprised by the intensity of the desire that overwhelmed her. Her belly was filled up with his child, and yet her lust seemed to know no bounds. "Don't stop," she whispered.

He smiled in the dimness of the room, lit only by the low fire that burned in the hearth. "You're a shameless wench, lambkin," he told her, and he thrust just a little faster. "Since the day we met, I have had no other woman." He grinned as he heard her sharp gasp. He had obviously found that wicked little spot that always set her body quivering with delight.

Alix was actually surprised. She had not expected to feel quite as she was now feeling. "Oh, Colm!" she cried softly. "It is so good, my lord! So good!" She shuddered as she was racked by the waves of pleasure that flowed over her, leaving her sated for now and weakened. The babe within her lay quiet.

He took his own release now, and when his cock had finished expelling his hot juices he sighed. "Aye, I've missed you," he said.

Alix rolled over onto her back, and turning her head towards him, replied, "So you have said several times in the past few days, my lord. I think I am beginning to believe you."

Grinning, he drew the disarranged coverlet over them and pulled her close again. They slept then until the gray light of dawn the following day. And the gray light was followed by a magnificent sunrise that everyone at Dunglais said portended a happy future for them all. The month progressed, and on the first day of Christmas the laird gave his wife a beautiful blue wool cape. Both the garment and its hood were lined in warm rabbit's fur. Alix had managed to finish the small tapestry she had been working on when Sir Udolf had kidnapped her. It depicted Dunglais Keep upon its small hill and, delighted, the laird ordered it hung behind the high board. Fiona was content again with Alix home. She practiced her French daily. Twelfth Night came and went. Winter set in with a vengeance with snow almost every day. Alix wondered if they would ever see the sun again. But at least it was quiet and peaceful. Nothing stirred to disturb the pristine landscape.

The snows continued on into February. Alix's belly was enormous to her eyes, and the child within her grew more active with each passing day. Preparations began for the anticipated birth. A birthing chair was found in the cellar of the keep and brought upstairs to be repaired and scrubbed. The family cradle was brought from the attic of the keep to be cleaned free of cobwebs and polished until the ancient oak deep gold with age glowed. Alix sewed and stuffed a new mattress for the cradle with a mixture of duck feathers and goose down. Fiona worked with Fenella to stitch a blanket for the baby. Fresh swaddling clothes were prepared for the infant, who already had a wardrobe of garments made by all the women in the household. They but waited for Alix to give birth to the child.

And then on February twenty-seventh, in the evening, Alix finally went into labor shortly after her water broke, surprising her. She had been sleeping, and awakened as a pain akin to a knife slicing her belly awoke her. Discovering herself in a wet bed, Alix called out to her husband, who had gone to sleep in his own bedchamber that night. The laird came at once, and remembering when Fiona had been born, he called for Fenella. Alix's main concern at the moment was for the feather bed atop the mattress, but Fenella assured her that it would dry. In the meantime it was replaced so that after the child came its mother could be comfortable in her own bed. The birthing chair was brought into the chamber. The laird was sent forth.

"This is women's work, my lord," Fenella told her master firmly.

He went half-reluctantly, half-relieved.

"Fiona?" Alix asked.

"Bab has put her to bed, but not before telling her a lot of pretty stories," Fenella replied. "I was not pleased when you brought that old Englisher here to Dunglais, but she is actually a good sort, my lady. And she certainly isn't afraid of hard work. With your permission I'll have my cousin Mary help her with the bairn."

"I couldn't leave her behind this time, Fenella," Alix said, and winced as a small pain touched her. "Her master beat her after I fled Wulfborn the first time, and took every opportunity to assault her after that. After what happened I am sure Father Peter convinced him to find another woman to wife, but Bab unfortunately would have always been a reminder of me. If he did not like her, then his new wife would not. As you have noted, she is not a young woman. With Mary to help her she will take good care of the bairn and end her days here."

Several hours passed, and the midnight hour came and went. Alix's labor, which had begun with a sharp pain and then subsided into bearable ones, now began to increase in ferocity as Fenella had made her walk back and forth. The young woman bit her lip until it bled. When Fenella asked her why she would not cry out Alix told her she didn't want to awaken Fiona and frighten her.

"Jeannie is sleeping with your daughter," Fenella said in practical tones. "If she awakens to your screams the lass will calm Fiona."

The door opened to admit Bab. "Is the child not born yet? The laird has worn a groove in the floor of the hall with all his pacing."

"She does not want to scream," Fenella said.

"My lady! Screaming is part of the birthing," Bab told her. "If you do not scream the child will think you do not want him."

Alix screamed as a pain tore through her. "Oh God, it hurts!" she cried.

"Good! Good!" Bab approved.

"Help me get her onto the chair," Fenella said, and together the two women lifted Alix into the large high-backed chair. It had a hole in its seat, and the arms of the chair were strong and wide. Bab spread cloths beneath the opening. Fenella peered beneath it. "You are almost ready, my lady," she promised.

Alix screamed again and then again.

In the hall below Malcolm Scott heard his wife's cries. He had gone through this process once before when Fiona had been born, but he had forgotten how heart-wrenching the cries of a woman giving birth could be. He remembered Robena's screams as she birthed Fiona, and her screams afterwards learning her child was a daughter, for she had wanted a son, had wanted to never be with child again. What if Alix had another daughter? Would she be angry? At first they had referred to the child she carried as it but of late it had been he, him, or the lad. Alix had even asked if they might baptize a first son James for the late king and Alexander for her deceased father. They had no name for a daughter, but it could indeed be a daughter. And if it was, would Alix, like Robena, refuse to bear him another child? Would she take the chance that she might bear another daughter? He paced back and forth until finally Iver put a goblet of wine in his hand.

"Sit down, my lord. Sit down. You know these things evolve in their own time and not a moment before," his steward said soothingly.

"What if it is a lass, Iver?" the laird asked. "What if it is like the last time?"

"My lord, all are certain it is a son, but should it be a daughter you and the lady will pray once more for a son," Iver replied. "This wife is nothing like the other wife."

The keep slept but for its laird, his wife, and her attendants. Malcolm Scott sat by his hearth with his steward. When the fire would burn low Iver would add more wood to it. The night deepened and began to move slowly toward a new day. And then as the skies outside of the great hall's windows began to show gray both men sat up, startled, as a great shriek echoed throughout the keep. They looked at each other, and then the laird jumped to his feet and, taking the stairs two at a time, burst into his wife's bedchamber.

Alix lay a-bed, soaking wet from her exertions, her honey-blond hair sticking to her face, but she had a smile upon her face. Fenella turned, and in her hands was a naked, red-faced infant who was howling at the top of its lungs. The child flailed its little arms and legs about as it roared. The housekeeper had all she could do to hold on to the baby, but she was smiling too.

Malcolm Scott stared at the newborn. Two arms. Two legs. A penis, and a sack beneath it containing two balls. "A son!" he breathed ecstatically.

"Aye, my lord, a son!" Fenella said. "Dunglais has an heir of your loins!"

The laird took the baby from her, holding him gently against his chest. The child was moist with his birthing and a slick of blood. Malcolm Scott looked down at him. "James Alexander Scott, welcome home!" he said quietly and, bending, he kissed the boy's wet dark head.

"Give me the laddie," Bab said, and she took the infant from its father, rolling her eyes towards Alix. "He must be cleaned and swaddled. Help me, Fenella."

The laird turned to Alix and, going to her, helped her from the birthing chair. She was naked and obviously very tired. "Thank you," he said softly to her. And, enfolding her in his arms, he kissed her tenderly.

Alix sagged against him, exhausted. "He's beautiful, isn't he?" she whispered, and then she collapsed against him, her eyes closing.

Malcolm Scott walked to the bed and tucked her into it. She was already sound asleep, and he smiled down at her. There was so much he wanted to say to her, but there would be time later. "I love you, lambkin," he murmured as he bent to kiss her again.

"We'll take care of her, my lord," Fenella said as he turned back to see his son.

"Sit down here in this chair while we get the laddie ready for you."

He sat silently as they cleaned the infant free of all evidence of his birth and wrapped in swaddling clothes. Then they tucked him in the crook of the laird's arm with a smile. He sat contentedly as they then set to work bathing his wife with a sponge and putting her into a night garment. Alix never woke up. The laird gazed down on his newborn son, who was now quiet and staring back at his father. The child had large round blue eyes and was very fair. Startled, Malcolm Scott realized it was like looking into a mirror of himself. There was no doubt who this child's sire was, he chuckled.

"You've an older sister," he said. "Her name is Fiona, and you'll meet her tomorrow. And you'll respect me, for I'm your father, and respect and be good to your mother who just birthed you. She's the love of my life, lad. I hope you'll find a love like ours one day. And about your name. You bear the name of two fine gentlemen. My friend, James Stewart, who was king of this land. And your mother's father, a physician. You must never bring shame on your names, lad. Any of them. You're of Clan Scott, a respected name here in the borders. We are honest men, and faithful to Scotland and to our king. I want you to remember that."

James Alexander Scott yawned a mighty yawn and then, closing his eyes, fell asleep in his father's arms.

The laird chuckled. "Bab," he called. "Take the bairn and set him in his cradle. He'll stay with his mam and me for now."

Bab grinned, showing several missing teeth. "I'll watch over him, my lord," she said. She cradled the infant looking down at him. "And protect him with my life."

"You're a good woman for an Englisher," Malcolm Scott said.

"And you're a good man for a Scot," Bab shot back.

Chuckling, the Laird of Dunglais left his wife and child, and going down to the hall where the sleepy servants were now arriving to begin a new day, he said, "Rejoice with me and praise God and his Blessed Mother I Dunglais has a healthy son and heir!"

And the servants, now awake with their delight, cheered lustily at the laird's announcement.