Michael had turned and walked away then, not looking back. As apologies between men went, Grace had thought that was about as good as it got. She had seen Ian’s shoulders tremble slightly as Michael walked away. And so she had walked away, too, into the store to finish her shopping, leaving the still grieving father the privacy to come to terms with what he’d been told.
And now Ian was actually standing beside the man he had hated for seven long years, supporting him.
“If your question is did I love your sister,” Michael said calmly to Samuel, “then yes, we had a child together. However, Robbie would have been born in wedlock had Mary lived.”
That simple reminder that Mary was not here to defend herself seemed to take the anger right out of her oldest brother. Timmy, though, who was the youngest and had lived at home with Mary and Grace the longest, was still not willing to let Michael off so easily.
“The wedding usually comes before the pregnancy, not before the birth,” he said, taking a step closer to Michael.
Grace rolled her eyes. They were all such men.
“Oh, look!” she exclaimed as excitedly as she could. “A falling star. Quick everyone, make a wish.”
All eleven men turned and glared at her. “Watch,” she said, pointing up at the heavens. “There’ll be another one.”
“Go to bed, Grace,” Timmy said. “You’ve only got maybe five hours before sunrise.”
“I can’t sleep.”
Samuel, who knew her well enough to know she was lying, walked over and took Robbie from her arms and pulled his little cap over his ears.
“Pregnant women can always sleep,” he told her, having the experience of watching his wife bear five children to back up his words. He reached out and tapped the end of her nose. “We just want to have a little talk with your fiancé, sis. We’ll try and keep it quiet.”
“You leave Grey and Michael alone,” she told him in a whisper. “They both love both your sisters.”
“I know,” he agreed, looking at Robbie with a warming smile. “Mary did well, didn’t she? He’s a cute little tyke.”
Grace wasn’t about to point out that his hat was hiding the fact that Robbie had big ears and uncontrollable hair that made him look like a troll. Besides, he was the most beautiful troll she had ever laid eyes on.
“I’m not going to bed until the rest of you do. I don’t want you telling Grey about my childhood antics.”
Samuel laughed out loud, shaking Robbie to the point that he laughed aloud, too, and clapped his hands.
“That would take more than the rest of this night,” Samuel said.
He took her by the shoulder and physically turned her toward the tents pitched on the summit house floor. He gave her a gentle shove to get her moving and then a stern pat on the rear to make sure she kept going.
She turned around and glared at him, rubbing her bum. “The next person to swat my backside,” she said through clenched teeth, looking at Grey as she spoke, making sure he got her message, “had better learn to sleep with one eye open.”
“I wouldn’t dare do it any other way, lass,” Grey said with a chuckle. “Now, go to bed, Grace. We promise not to roll your brothers off the mountain.”
With one last skeptical look at the eleven of them, she finally gave into her fatigue and climbed into the small tent that Grey had set up for her.
He’d set up three more for her brothers, but that was all. She’d asked him where the other tents were, and Grey had laughed. He said they had never slept in a tent in their lives, not even in the rain. God provided all the shelter they needed, and why would they want to surround themselves with cloth on such a beautiful night?
She’d wanted a tent for Michael, at least, because of Robbie. Grey had looked appalled at that thought and asked if she wanted him to make peace with the man or insult him. Robbie was a Scot, and a warrior
’s son to boot. The babe would be fine wrapped up in the warmth of his father’s arms for the night.
Grace crawled into her sleeping bag, not even bothering to undress. They were all warriors, she’d discovered. Ian had been her greatest source of information. While they had worked together, she had gently plied him with questions about life eight hundred years ago, and Ian had opened up, telling her about the family he’d lost and about their duties as men in that hard yet wonderful age.
He explained Grey’s duties and what being a laird meant. He also explained that stealing a neighbor’s cattle—reeving, he had called it—was more a sport than an act of war. True wars rarely happened between clans, but disputes over land or resources or insults were more common.
He told her that women were chattel eight hundred years ago and needed guidance from men. He had quickly added, his face a dull red at the time, that he knew better now, that women were equal partners in life and able to think for themselves.
“Are you sleeping, lass?” came Grey’s voice through the side of her tent, sounding as if he was no more than ten inches away from her head.
“No.” She smiled up at the ridge pole. “Is everyone gone to bed?”
“Aye. Your brothers have had their fill of beer, and their beds seemed more appealing than a good fight.
They’ve turned in for the night.”
“Why haven’t you?”
“I have.”
“Outside my tent?”
“Less than a foot away, lass. Does that bother you?”
It did, but not in the way he was thinking. She rolled over so she was facing him through the cloth.
“Thank you for letting Michael come tonight.”
“Ah, Grace. Never give thanks for something that’s not needing it. MacBain’s not here as any favor to you on my part. He came because he and Robbie belong here. It’s his woman we’re all saying goodbye to in the morning. Not one of us can deny him that right.”
Grace unzipped the tent and wiggled her head out until she could look up at the stars.
“You’ll freeze,” he said, trying to push her back in.
“You haven’t enough heat for both of us?” She turned to look at him. “I remember when you did once before.”
He stopped pushing and pulled instead, until she was curled up beside him. Grace snuggled against him like a spoon and took his arm and wrapped it around her waist, sealing herself in his heat.
“About this spanking thing,” she said, deciding to set things straight between them. She was about to say
“I do” in just a few hours, and if this little discussion didn’t go the way she wanted, she might be saying “I don’t” instead.
He nuzzled her ear with his lips. “What about it, lass?” he asked, sending a shiver down the length of her spine, right into the pit of her stomach.
Grace lost her train of thought.
“What about it?” he repeated, sliding his hand between her breasts and pulling her against him.
“Have you ever actually spanked a woman?” she asked, trying to wiggle away from him so her brain would keep functioning.
He let go of her breasts and slid his hand over her slightly protruding belly, pulling her against him and thrusting his hips forward.
“No,” he said, his voice lazy, his lips brushing her ear.
She turned to see the glint in his dark, heavy-lidded eyes. “So it’s all been bluster?”
“No,” he repeated, kissing her lips.
She turned completely around until she was facing him and gave him a good scowl to let him know she wasn’t going to be distracted. “You can’t spank a woman today,” she told him. “You can’t even threaten to.”
He lifted his head to look down on her. “Not even if she’s needing it?”
Her throat tightened. But she was careful not to shout at him. Not with her brothers within earshot.
“Needing it?” she repeated.
“Aye,” he said, the slash of his grin showing his teeth. “Sometimes it’s the only way to end the argument.”