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
'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
'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
