Page 137 of The Speed of Lightning
Calum rolled his eyes as he trailed kisses up her neck, wondering if he could get somewhere. “What are you on about? You look fit enough to sword dance.”
She smirked. “I could still beat you if I tried, MacLean.”
He smiled. “I ken, my beautiful MacSorley lass. I ken.”
Her hand found his and held it still over her bump. “Any sign of Murdoch?”
Calum shook his head, his heart dropping again. Murdoch hadn’t been seen since he’d walked out of the officers’ quarters at Duart—gone from the Shield, from the Lochbuie bowmen, from his home entirely. Rory MacDonald still held Aoife, and now there were whispers of women vanishing across Garmoran. The Shield had made a covert search of the lands, but found no trace of him. For the millionth time since that horrible day, Calum prayed Murdoch wasn’t dead.
Freya smoothed her hand over his. “He’s out there. Think of Léo—perhaps he’s imprisoned somewhere. Somehow he’ll get word to us.”
Calum’s thoughts strayed to Aoife, trapped in a marriage she hadn’t chosen, torn from her family and friends, silenced within the MacDonald household. “I dinnae believe he wants to get word to us, love. I only pray Doc hasn’t done anything reckless…that he hasn’t harmed himself.”
Freya shook her head firmly. “I don’t believe he would. His faith runs too deep.”
Calum rested his head against her shoulder. “You’re the one of deep faith, mo rionnag. You’re always the one urging me to hope.”
She smiled softly. “Well, it’s hard no’ to believe when Jesus kept sending you to save me. Over, and over, and over again.”
He swept his hands over her belly again. “I hope this one gives me less trouble.”
Freya smiled and tucked her head against his neck. “Calum?”
“Mmm?”
“How did you know to come for me the night I was scalded?”
His smile deepened with the memory. “The Lord gave me a dream—a terrible one. You were standing in the river, alone, and no one was coming to save you. Then a voice thundered, commanding me to rise. I woke with sickness in my chest, in my gut, and it wouldn’t relent until I ran for the woods. When I found you, I knew?—”
She tightened her hand over his. “What?”
“That I still wanted you for my wife. Always. To keep beside me, to love, to protect. Holding you in that water, I knew I’d never hold another lass again. You were the only one I’d ever wanted, and the only one I’d want for the rest of my life.” He tightened his palms on her belly, as if passing his vow into the child within. “Our souls were always the same, our spirits made of the same breath, our hearts pricked for each other since we were bairns. Born on the same day. I believe we might have been created in the same instant, so we always had each other.”
Beneath his palms something shifted, sweeping across his hands, and Freya gave a startled cry. “Och—did you feel it?”
Wonder jolted through him. He pressed both hands beside her navel just as a tiny lump rolled, then thumped—thumped—thumped. “How are you doing that?”
She burst into laughter. “’Tis no’ me, daft man. It’s your bairn. I’ve felt the wee flutters for months, but those—those were proper kicks. He’s already a runner, like his da.”
The small bump moved again, a quick pulse beneath his spread hands. A strange, fierce joy swept over him, and he laughed aloud.
“I feel her.”
Freya chuckled softly. “Ye dinnae know it’s a lass.”
He only nodded. “Aye, she is. I know it.”
“How do ye know?”
“I know because her kicks give me the same weight in my heart that you do every time you look at me.”
A tear slipped from Freya’s eye and traced her cheek. He caught it with his kiss, unwilling to lift his hands from her belly—from the daughter he knew was growing there.
Calum couldn’t believe the overflow of his blessings. God had watched over them faithfully. He had heard every breath of prayer, every hour of anguish, and neither he nor Freya had been mastered by circumstance. Instead, He had led them through it—and together they had risen to their calling by His power.
Laying back beneath the branches of their rowan tree, Calum drew her into his arms. She rested a hand against him, her finger tracing the wolfhound marked upon his skin.
She let out a breath. “I wish I could be certain of what is to come—that all will be well for those we love.”
