The Chieftain's Feud by Frances Housden

had let her sleep, his hand remaining on her belly throughout the night.
    Sighing, her eyelids fluttered closed, content to stay where she was and dream. All was well and good, but dreams couldnae be controlled, and this one was in colour—red.
    The blades stabbing at her were covered in blood—not hers, Jamie’s. With each thrust of steel, she dodged and the blade stabbed her husband. She was killing him. It made her whimper low in her throat and, eyes wide, she watched a silver streak arc toward her, determined not to move. Instead she screamed, over and over.
    The noise had Jamie starting upright and reaching for his sword afore he realised where he was—in bed with Eve.
    Her screams gave way to sobs as he turned her in his arms and held her close to his heart. “Hush now, bonnie lass, I’ve got ye.” He rubbed her back and kissed her eyes, her cheeks, her face, sipping on her tears as if they tasted like the grandest wine. “Try to forget what happened. Yer uncle Hadron was a wicked man.”
    Eve snuffled against his chest. “He was that. He raped and killed both our mothers and boasted about it. I never really cared for him. He was a rough man, but he was my uncle and he tried to kill me.”
    Pushing her hair back frae her forehead Jamie looked deep into her eyes, hoping she could read the truth in his as blue met green and stared. “He was an evil man, but he wasnae stupid. He knew he would die, so he incited the hatred of your father and mine, to make sure that death, when it took him, would be swift.” He tipped up her chin up and brushed her lips with his. “And it would have been swifter, but I feared harming the lass I love more than life … my wife.”
    Eve laid her hands on his chest in order to ease back and look him in the face. “Ye love me?” she asked—a question that would have shocked the clothes off his back had he been wearing any. “How could ye doubt me? I’ve loved ye frae the first moment I laid eyes on ye.”
    “Why did ye ne’er tell me?”
    Another shock. “Ne’er told ye?” Through the gravel in his throat, he groaned, “I thought I had. I asked ye to marry me.”
    “I was carrying yer bairn.”
    “That was simply an extra advantage. It was you I wanted, and always will for as long as I live,” he admitted as Eve curved her palm around his jaw.
    “I love ye, too, and always will,” she promised. Stretching up to place her lips against his, she licked at his mouth and made his go dry. Heart racing, he pulled her closer and for his pains received a powerful kick in his ribs frae his son. Holding his breath, he felt in awe at the wonders of life. Love hurt. It also healed, and as Eve took him into her body, Jamie realised he would have it nae other way.
    Jamie was fortunate in his friends. The McArthur and Morag had insisted that he and Eve remain at Cragenlaw until after their bairn was born in early spring. Their son, Arthur, came into the world swiftly, his long limbs kicking and punching to get out. The moment he saw his dark head appear, Jamie kenned he would be the best of them, eyes neither blue nor green but, like the sea, changing depending on his moods.
    He could see him now, standing tall, a warrior to his bones, for he would need to be, and Jamie had already asked the McArthur if he would foster him when the time came. Scotland’s future would depend on lads like his son, and Jamie wanted to be certain his son took part in that future and was well prepared for what was to come.
    “Wrap that bairn up and come back to bed,” Eve murmured, her hair spread across the pillow frae their lovemaking and her shoulders bare. “It’s so early. I ken that ye find watching Arthur hard to resist, as do I. For a first attempt, I feel we made a guid job of making him, but who’s to say if you come back to bed we cannae do better?”
    As naked as his wife, Jamie swiftly rewrapped Arthur’s swaddling clothes and placed him down to sleep in the crib Nhaimeth had made for