The Highlander Series(94)
Mairin smiled and put a hand to her middle. “Aye, ’tis true, still I didn’t want to chance telling the laird something that was false. So much rides on this little one’s shoulders.”
Gertie’s expression softened. “You have a good heart, lass. Our clan has much to be thankful for since you came to us. It almost seems too good to be true.”
Embarrassed by the other woman’s praise, Mairin directed the conversation to the matter at hand.
“I thought to plan a special meal since Laird McDonald made good on his wager. It seems all we’ve eaten of late is rabbit stew. I’m sure the men would love to have fresh venison and vegetables. Surely we could spare a little for celebration without depleting our stores to dangerous levels again.”
Gertie smiled broadly and reached over to pat Mairin on the arm. “I was thinking the same thing myself, lass. I already had in mind to make venison pies, with your permission, of course. With the salt that Laird McDonald provided, we no longer have to spare every grain for preserving. ’Twill make the meal taste delicious.”
“Wonderful! I’ll leave the planning in your capable hands. I’ve promised Crispen that I’d throw skipping stones over the loch with him this afternoon.”
“If you wait but a moment, I’ll give you some bread to take. It will settle your stomach and give you and Crispen a snack for the afternoon.”
Gertie wrapped several small loaves into a cloth sack and handed it to Mairin. “Off with you now, lass. Go and have a good time with Crispen.”
“Thank you,” Mairin said as she turned to go.
Her heart light, and giddy over the idea of telling Ewan of her pregnancy, she went outside to find Crispen.
The sun’s rays shone bright and she turned her face up, seeking more of their warmth. She paused for a moment to watch the McDonalds file across the bridge to the other side of the loch. Her gaze sought Ewan but he was already off on another duty.
She headed around the corner of the keep, searching the shores of the loch for a sign of Crispen. He was standing on a rock outcropping a distance away, his small body outlined in the sun. He stood alone, throwing stones across the surface of the water. He’d watch as the stone traveled, seemingly mesmerized by the way it progressed across the loch. His laughter rang out so pure and untarnished that Mairin’s heart seized. Was there anything more beautiful than a child’s joy?
She looked to the day when Crispen would lead his brother or sister to the loch to throw stones. The two would laugh and play together. Like a family.
Smiling, she started forward, looking on the ground for appropriate stones as she went. She gathered half a dozen before arriving to where Crispen stood.
“Mama!”
There was no description for the sheer joy that gripped her whenever he called her mother.
He ran into her arms and she hugged him close, spilling her rocks in the process.
Laughing, he bent down to help her retrieve them, exclaiming over the perfection of one or two stones as he examined them.
“I want to throw this one,” he said, holding up a particularly flat rock.
“Go on then. I wager you can’t make it skip more than eight times.”
His eyes lit up as she knew they would at the challenge she’d set forth. “I can do nine,” he boasted.
“Oh ho! How you boast. Deeds are much stronger than words. Let me see your prowess firsthand.”
His chin set and concentration knitting his eyebrows, he lined up his shot and then set the rock flying. It struck the water and skipped in rapid succession toward the other bank.
“One! Two! Three!” He paused for breath but his gaze never left the progression of the rock. “Six! Seven … eight … nine!” He turned. “Mama, I did it! Nine times!”
“Surely a record,” she said, acknowledging his feat.
“You try now,” he urged.
“Oh, I can’t hope to best someone as skilled as you.”
He stuck his chest out and he smiled smugly. Then he brightened and took her hand. “I bet you do well … for a woman.”
In response she tussled his hair. “You must stop listening to the ideas of your Uncle Caelen, Crispen. It will not endear you to the ladies in the future.”
He wrinkled his nose and stuck out his tongue, making a gagging noise. “Girls are awful. Except you, Mama.”
She laughed and hugged him to her again. “I’m ever so happy that I’m not considered an awful girl.”
He tucked a perfectly flat, smooth rock into her hand. “Try it.”
“Very well. After all, the honor of all women rests in my hands.”
Crispen giggled at her dramatics as she elaborately lined up her shot. After a few test swings of her arm, she let fly and watched as the rock sailed far, hitting the surface and kicking up water as it bounced.