Then he was kissing her, and their tongues were dancing between the cavern of his mouth and the warm cave of hers. Their mouths fused against each other. One kiss melted into another, and another, and another until Alix found herself dizzy. And still no word had been spoken between then even as he put her onto her back, mounted her, and thrust into the welcoming heat of her eager and ready sheath.

And then he groaned. "Ahhh, lambkin, God help me, but I love you!" He thrust deep and he thrust hard over and over and over again as if he could not obtain enough of her. There was almost a desperation in his action. His lips found hers again.

Alix melted with pleasure as he rode her. His words! His lips! How could she have been so fortunate as to have found such bliss? She had not believed it possible. "Colm! Colm!" she half sobbed his name. "I love you! I love you!" Her head spun. Her body burned with what seemed an unquenchable fire for his passion. She seemed to soar high and higher until she teetered upon the brink of… of… there was no name for it! And then she was overwhelmed with a wave of incredible pleasure that sent her hurtling into a warm darkness that seemed to leap up to enfold her. Alix cried aloud, and it was a sound both mournful and joyous at the same time.

He shuddered hard and shouted her name as his own passion crested and burst. "Alix! My love!" And then his love juices exploded, thundering into her secret garden, shattering him, leaving him weak but sated. The scent of her skin intoxicated him as he lay still half atop her, gasping, struggling to gain enough energy to roll away so he would not crush her.

She had surely died, Alix thought, and then she realized that she was still alive. She sighed deeply and, reaching out, stroked the dark head that now lay on her breasts. His hair was soft for a man's, she thought. Happiness overwhelmed her. She was loved, and she loved in return. This was the kind of passion her parents had felt for each other. That elusive something she had never believed she would be fortunate enough to attain, and especially after her brief marriage to Hayle Watteson. "I love you, Colm," she whispered to him, and then smiled when heard the tiny snore. He had fallen asleep. Alix drew the coverlet back over them and let herself sleep again.

From that moment on it became apparent to all within the keep that the laird had fallen in love and that he was loved in return.

"You see!" Fenella crowed to Iver.

"There's no marriage yet," Iver replied, but he was actually as pleased as Fenella was. Still, he enjoyed teasing her. "HI believe it for certain when he marries her."

"He will!" Fenella responded.

"Who will?" asked Fiona, who had wandered into the hall. "Who will what?"

" 'Tis not our place to say, small mistress," Iver told the little girl.

"What do you want more than anything else in the whole wide world?" Fenella asked Fiona.

"Fenella!" the steward cautioned.

"A mother," Fiona replied. Then her bright blue eyes grew wide. "Oh, Fenella!"

"I've said naught," Fenella spoke quickly. "Just wait, my bairn. Be patient and wait. Who knows what will happen. You might have a new mam soon."

"But I want Da to marry Alix!" Fiona told the housekeeper. "Did the queen call him to court to give him a new wife? I will hate her! I want Alix for my mother!"

"Hush, child," Fenella cautioned.

Fiona burst into tears. "I w-w-want Alix for my mother!" she wailed. "I don't want some stranger! I w-wa-want Alix!"

"Now you've done it," Iver scolded the housekeeper.

"Alix! Alix!" Fiona howled, her small face red and wet with her tears.

Both the laird and Alix came into the hall at the same time. They ran to the little girl, and Malcolm Scott picked his daughter up in his arms to comfort her.

"Fiona, what is it?" he wanted to know.

"I want Alix!" Fiona sobbed.

"I am here, ma petite" Alix assured her, reaching up to wipe away the tears streaming down the child's face.

"I don't want a strange mother!" Fiona wept. "I want Alix!"

"God's foot!" the laird swore. "What is the bairn talking about?"

"I'm sorry, my lord, I may have spoken out of turn," Fenella began.

"ALIX!" Fiona sobbed loudly as she held out her arms to the girl. "I want Alix!"

"Give her to me, my lord," Alix said, and took the weeping child from him.

"What the hell did you say to her?" Malcolm Scott demanded of Fenella.

Iver gave the housekeeper an I told you so look.

"Well, my lord, we were speaking on what Fiona desires more than anything else in the world," Fenella began, attempting to explain the situation.

"I want Alix for my mother!" Fiona sniffled, now comforted by the warm arms holding her. "I don't want some poxy woman from the queen's court. I want Alix!"

"Very well," the laird said in an agreeable tone. "You shall have her."

Suddenly Fiona's tears ceased. A smile broke out upon her face. "Really, Da? Really? I can have Alix for my mother?"

"If she will accept me for her husband," Malcolm Scott said, a small smile upon his lips. "It's actually all up to Alix, Fiona."

Iver's mouth fell open. Fenella grinned triumphantly.

"Will you be my mother, Alix?" Fiona asked. "Please!"

"If your father will ask me properly," Alix said, "I will give you both an answer." Her heart was soaring with her joy. She had lost her family only to gain another one. And she was loved! Love by the laird and loved by this little girl in her arms.

"I thought I had asked you," the laird said, his gray eyes twinkling.

"Not properly," Alix replied mischievously.

The Laird of Dunglais knelt before her, and taking a hand in his, said, "Alix Margot Givet, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

Alix tilted her head first to one side and then the other. "Hm-mmm," she pondered as if seriously considering the matter.

"Say yes!" Fiona whispered excitedly in her ear. "Say yes!"

"Do you really think I should?" Alix teased the child.

Fiona nodded her head vigorously.

"Very well, my lord," Alix told him, and the smile she gave was for him alone. "I will gladly be your wife and mother to this wonderful little girl."

"Hoo Ray!" Fiona cheered. "I have gotten my birthday present early."

Alix set her down upon the floor. "Do you feel better now?" she asked.

"Aye!" Fiona responded. "Can I call you Mama now?"

Alix felt tears pricking at her eyelids. She nodded. "Aye, my Fiona. You may call me Mama if that is all right with your da." She looked to him.

He nodded, smiling.

"A Christmas wedding!" Fenella said. "We'll have to start planning right away, for tomorrow is the first of December. We must send to Drumcairn to your uncle. He will be so pleased. And my lady must have a new gown in which to be married."

Afterwards as they sat in the kitchens Iver said to Fenella, "Well, you escaped the wrath you deserved. I knew he was bedding her, but I didn't think he'd marry again."

"I told you he would," Fenella said. "It isn't natural for a man to live without a wife. Just because the Ramsay was the wrong woman didn't mean the right one wasn't out there, Iver. The lady is perfect for him. She'll never betray him like the other did."

The priest was called for, and he came from the laird's village of Dunglais, which was nearby. His name was Father Donald, and he was a man in his middle years. Learning that the laird wanted to wed Alix, the priest posed several questions. "You are both free to wed, my children?" he asked them.

"I am widowed," Alix responded. "My late husband is dead, God assoil him."

"And I am free, as my first wife's bones were found out on the moor," the laird said quietly.

"You both wish to have children?" Father Donald asked Alix, his mild brown eyes searching her lovely face. He had been at Dunglais for twelve years and had known the beauteous but high-strong Robena Ramsay.

"Aye!" Alix said without hesitation, causing the priest to smile.

"And you, my lord?"

"Aye," the laird said, looking at the object of his desire. "Son or daughter, it matters not to me. But our home should be filled with the laughter of children, and Fiona should have siblings. Family is most important to me."

"There is one thing, Good Father," Alix said. "My late husband's father wanted to wed me, and sent to York for a dispensation. I thought this desire unnatural and against church teachings. I fled his home. I am told he obtained that dispensation."

The priest looked troubled. Then he said, "That is England. This is Scotland. No dispensation can make clean that which is unclean, my daughter. I believe Bishop Kennedy at St. Andrew's would agree with me. I will marry you. You have but to name the day," the priest told them. "I am pleased, my lord, that you have decided to take this step. Your uncle at Drumcairn has been most worried. Have you sent to him yet?"

"We but awaited your blessing, Good Father," the laird said.

Father Donald chuckled. "No matter what I might have said, my lord, you would have found a way to make your union with this young woman a legal one. I shall draw up the marriage contract for you in the next few days."

"I can bring my husband a dower," Alix said proudly. "My father gave me a small bit of gold and silver before he died. He said it was for me alone. I will not come to my husband in naught but a chemise, Father Donald."

The priest nodded. "Bring me your portion then, my daughter, and when the contracts are signed it will be turned over to your husband," he told her.

Robert Ferguson, upon receiving word that he nephew was to remarry, came with all haste from Drumcairn. Although he had wanted Malcolm Scott to wed again, he was a bit disappointed that his nephew had not chosen one of his candidates. But when he learned of Alix's dower, he decided the laird had not made a bad bargain. True Alix was English, but her parents were French, and Scotland was allied with the French. True she had no relations who might be of use to the Scotts, or who would fight beside them, but she had a queen, albeit an English queen, for a godmother, and Scotland's queen had become her friend. And she was certainly pretty. And biddable without being boring. And both his nephew and little Fiona obviously adored her. It would be a good marriage, and he wagered silently to himself that Dunglais would have a male heir within the year.

Chapter Nine

The marriage contract between Alix and Malcolm Scott was drawn up. The bride brought her dower portion to the priest.

"Is this all of it, my daughter?" Father Donald asked as he took the small chamois bag. He would count it out when he was alone and add the amount to the contract.

"Nay," Alix told him honestly. "My father always said a woman should have a bit of her own money put aside." Then she drew two full-weight silver coins from her pocket and gave them to him. "A donation for the church, Good Priest."

"Your sire was a wise man," Father Donald said with a smile as he pocketed the coins she had given him.

"I have kept only a wee portion for myself," Alix said. "One day I will use it for whichever of my children needs it most."

"I can see you are nothing like the other," the priest said. "And you love him."

"Aye, I love him," Alix answered him simply.

"I understand you read," Father Donald said. "Since, having no family, you must act for yourself, you may read the contract I have drawn between you and the laird."

"There is no need," Alix told him. "I have faith in you, and know you have done what is right, Father."

The priest nodded. Her trust pleased him. She might be intelligent, which was not exactly an asset for a woman, but she had obviously been raised to respect the church. "When do you wish the contract to be signed and the blessing to be given, my daughter?"

"The laird and I have discussed it," Alix said. "Fiona's birthday is on the fifth day of this month. My lord and I will marry on the sixth, the feast of St. Nicholas. His uncle of Drumcairn and his uncle's wife have already been summoned."

It was but two days away, but the priest could see no reason for a delay. He knew that married or no the laird would spend the long winter night in his bed with Fiona, getting a child on her. Better the child be born legitimate, especially if God granted the pair a son and heir. "So be it, my daughter," he answered her.

"The signing will be in the hall with the blessing in the keep's small chapel," Alix continued. "This will be no grand affair. In the summer, if there are no raids, we will invite our neighbors to come and celebrate with us."