Page 99 of My Warrior
The heir of de Ware and the next laird of Gavin was about to enter the world. He’d be damned if he’d desert his wife on the battlefield. And he’d be damned if he’d be excluded from this legendary birth.
EPILOGUE
“Mama!”
Cambria could hear the wailing of her four-year-old nephew all the way across Blackhaugh’s rise. She looked up from her sketches of armor designs and raised an inquisitive brow.
Linet clucked her tongue and tossed her long golden braid over her shoulder. She set aside the swatches of wool she’d been showing to Cambria and waited for her son to come crying into her skirts.
“Mama!” he called, his hand clenched to his eye and his chubby legs pumping through the grass. “Skye did it again!”
Cambria brought her hand up to her mouth, half in horror and half to cover her amusement. It was good to have Holden’s kin at Blackhaugh again. But they’d been in Scotland a mere two days, and already Cambria’s daughter had bested her cousin in a brawl for the third time. She looked to Linet in apology and set off to seek out her wayward child.
Skye was a handful, that was sure, as wild and unbiddable as…well, asshehad once been. At least, so Malcolm the Steward oft complained. Still, Cambria frequently discovered the grumbling steward and his ubiquitous companion, Sir Guy, arguing the nuances of a certain maneuver of the sword while Skye aped them brilliantly.
Holden didn’t seem to mind. Her abduction had convinced him of the merits of arming his women. Indeed, he’d taken it upon himself to teach them the finer points of defense.
He also had great plans for their two-year-old son, Angus, who was farther up the hill at present, sleeping off a meal of porridge in his father’s arms. Holden had already begun the little lad’s training, giving him a wooden sword and carrying him proudly upon Ariel as he pointed out the best warriors in his company.
Ah, there was one of his best now, Cambria thought with a smile as she spied Skye leaping over a boulder to battle an oak stump. The wee brawler was certainly good for one thing, she had to admit—Skye tested Cambria’s armor designs before they were forged for the knights. No warrior could have put chain mail and plate through a more thorough trial.
“Mama!” Skye cried as she spotted her mother. “I defeated that varlet, Sir Roland de Ware! I am the champion!”
Cambria forced her features into a frown, which was no easy feat. “And why were you battling your cousin?”
Skye pouted. “He said his papa could best my papa.” She screwed up her forehead. “It isn’t true, is it?”
Cambria let a grin slip onto her face. “Well, that will be determined tomorrow in the great tournament, Skye. But it’s nothing for you and Roland to battle over. You know, not all disagreements need to be settled with fists and sword.” She sat upon the boulder and wrapped an arm around her mail-clad daughter. “Have I ever told you the story of how your papa convinced me to marry him?”
Holden shifted his sleepy son in his arms and examined more closely the monk’s missive.
“I’ll be damned,” he whispered.
The monk flinched visibly at the oath.
“Well, well,” his brother Duncan chimed in over his shoulder, his blue eyes sparkling as he perused the note. “It’s high time, isn’t it?”
Then Duncan peered past him, and Holden followed his gaze. Linet was waddling up the hill toward them, her flaxen-haired son clinging to her swollen belly.
“Ah, Linet, my love, there you are,” Duncan beamed, holding his hand out to assist her. “I fear, my lady, I may have to delay besting this brother of mine in the lists. It seems we’re needed back in England.”
Linet absently stroked her belly, her soft green eyes dimming sadly. Holden knew she wanted Cambria by her side for the birth.
“I see no reason Cambria and I can’t come as well,” Holden assured her.
“Roland!” Duncan shouted suddenly at the sight of his son, whose eye appeared to be turning an ugly shade of purple. “How did you get that black eye?”
“Skye did it!” the little boy cried in barely discernible words. “Skye said she was a knight, and we were having a battle!”
Holden rolled his eyes and clenched his jaw. He’d been hearing tales like this one for some six months now. More than half the castle children had injuries somehow related to Skye. It was beginning to be an embarrassment.
Duncan, however, only laughed and tapped at the document in his hand. “Well, it seems our little brother is in for a bit of fatherly woes himself!”
“Garth?” Linet asked.
“He’s taking a wife. A matter of honor, it says here,” Duncan said with a grin, gesturing to the missive.
“He is to be a father himself shortly,” Holden explained. “And it appears he doesn’t mean aholyfather. He’s summoned us to come in all haste to his wedding.”
