His Bonnie Bride, Hannah Howell [best ebook reader for chromebook .TXT] 📗

or a fever that came all too commonly afterward. At times her sacrifice was for nothing, as the babe was stillborn or sickly, lasting not long after its mother.

All these catastrophes haunted Tavis. He did not recollect her obvious strength or good health, only how small she was. The thought of her lithe frame wracked with pain tortured his dreams. At times he was glad that he would not be there to see, but more often he wanted to be at her side, as if his presence and added strength could ease things for her, hold off the shadows that hung ominously over a child bed.

When Angus finally entered with a large group at his heels Tavis's tension eased a little. It was not possible that they would smile so if anything were seriously wrong. Angus had grown too fond of Storm to look so gleeful if she had come to harm.

Because of that and because of the fact that Angus would not have returned to Caraidland unless the baby had been born, Tavis felt excitement stir within himself.

"Storm?" he choked out when Angus stopped by his chair.

"The wee lass is fine, though her temper is a wee bit short frae being coddled and forced to play the invalid. An I was leaving, she sent her brother Andrew to his heels, a chamberpot aimed at his head."

"Angus," Tavis groaned, "has she had the bairn?"

"Aye. Why else would I be here?" Angus judged by Tavis's darkening face that he had teased the young man enough. "Aye, ye hae a son." He waited for the cheers to die down. "A fine, braw laddie he looks tae be. Has red hair and promises tae hae your eyes. She named him Taran, which means thunder in Welsh." He grinned. "Lord Eldon's mother was Welsh. 'Tis her grandfather's name, or is that the grandfather's father? Nay matter. I ken it suits. Lusty cry Taran's got. Truth is he has a string o' names. Taran Roden Colin MacLagan. Lass said it would save some arguments."

Blindly, Tavis accepted a tankard of ale and was jostled by many a slap on the back. "God, a son."

"I wasnae finished," Angus bellowed, and the noise faded abruptly.

"But ye said Storm was all right," said Sholto, voicing the confusion that Tavis felt.

"Aye, that she is. Looks a wee bit o' a thing, but sturdy as an ox."

"Then what else is there to say, ye old gowk!" bellowed Colin, losing patience with the man's games.

"Tavis has hisself a daughter."

"Curse it, Angus, ye just told me I had a son."

"Aye, ye do that, but ye hae a daughter as weel. Here now, laddie, taek a wee dram. Ye look peakish."

Tavis felt peakish. "I have a son and I have a daughter." He took a long drink. "Twins?"

Angus nodded. "Aye. Twins. The lass has black hair and her eyes look tae be like her mother's. A bit small, but the bairn is hale. Called the bairn Aingeal after her own mother. Aingeal Vanora O'Conner MacLagan. Got your ain mother in there as weel. Bit quieter than the lad she is, but nay meek."

"She wouldnae dare to be meek with such a set of parents," murmured Colin. "And Storm such a wee lass. 'Tis hard to believe she would bear twins, live, healthy twins. Ye sure, Angus?"

"I hae looked at the bairns meself. Aye, and Storm is looking fine and healthy as weel," he reiterated, anticipating Tavis's question. "Now, Lord Eldon sent ye a word or twa."

Staring at the packet before him, Tavis almost laughed. "A word or twa, eh? Looks to be a book."

With a sigh, Tavis began to read the long missive from his new father-in-law. The others in the hall celebrated the new heir and his sister quite merrily without the new father's participation. If there were any among them who had harbored qualms about the match, they did no longer. Storm's heritage faded into insignificance compared to the fact that she had born Tavis's heir, had, in fact, born two healthy bairns her very first time. This astonishing feat they naturally attributed to her Irish heritage and Scottish lover.

Tavis felt both amusement and annoyance as he read Lord Eldon's letter. The man was swiftly shaping up into someone Tavis was almost sorry to have drawn a sword upon. There was still a touch of reproach to Eldon's words, but Tavis could understand that. Eldon was being forced to accept a man as kin that he should have, by all rights, run through with his sword.

Every detail of the birth was related, for which Tavis was truly grateful. It was the next best thing to being there. He felt both resentful and grateful toward Eldon. Tavis recognized that he was jealous of Eldon's part in the birth, yet could not help but be thankful that the man had been there to give Storm his strength. He was also jealous of the very obvious closeness between father and daughter.

Those feelings paled into insignificance when Tavis read further. Eldon wanted him to wait even longer before seeing Storm and his children, almost another month. As if to rub salt into open wounds, Eldon proceeded to give him advice on how to handle Storm when he finally saw her.

"The cursed man is telling me how to handle Storm," he growled, tossing the missive to Colin.

"Weel," drawled Sholto, "ye maun admit ye havenae done a verra good job of it so far." He dodged Tavis's lunge.

"Here now, Tavis." Colin spoke over the laughter. "The man makes some verra good points."

"Does he now. He also tells me I cannae see her for near to another month. I maun still wait."

"He gives a verra good reason for that, a reason that shows he is thinking on your benefit. 'Tis verra true that a woman behaves verra emotionally after bearing a bairn. Ye neednae face her when she is nay apt to be using her head. Ye want her to listen to ye. There's less chance o' that right