Ella sat just outside the busy kitchens, she was too pregnant to be allowed to help inside. Mrs. Thomas had put her to work mending linens, and resting her feet. Everyone was concerned she was going to go into labor at any moment. Truth be told, she felt like she was ready to give birth a week or more ago, but this MacGille was taking his sweet time coming out. A woosh of air brushed past her followed immediately by a loud and booming Magnus MacGille.

“Angus Fergus MacGille get yer arse back here ye wee shite.” Ella usually didn’t like it when the men used foul language around the little ones, but she had just watched her son, or rather a fop of red-hair that she suspected was her son, steal a whole pie from the cooling rack and run right between Magnus’s legs and out the main hall door. She had to bite back her laughter at his antics. He was only three and a-half and already causing no end of trouble for anyone who loved him.

“The lad is like his da, can’t keep his hands off anythin’ sweet.” Ella let out a yelp as Lucas came up behind her and pinched her through her skirts before capturing her mouth with his own. She moaned, yearning to be closer to him, if only her swollen belly didn’t get in the way. She didn’t remember being this randy when she was pregnant with Angus, but this time around all she could think about was bedding her husband and Lucas wouldn’t do anything about it except torture her with stolen kisses and soft caresses.

“Ah Lucas, take me upstairs and make love tae me please,” she begged.

“And bring about the babe early? I dinnae think so my lady. Ye’ll have tae wait a little bit longer.” He laughed.

“You’re no good Lucas MacGille. If you aren’t going to make love to me, you better go fetch your son, before Magnus gets his hands on him.” She swatted him away with her apron.

“I’ll dae nae such thing. I think I’ll stay right here and torture me wife some more.” He leaned over her and this time kissed her deep and full. His tongue forcing its way into her mouth and she willingly opened for him. He tasted of fresh picked apples, and he smelled of cedar and wood smoke. She so loved these autumn days when the men would bring in the harvest and the women would prepare for winter. She loved the way Lucas’s cheeks would cool next to her own as he kissed her fresh in from the cold outdoors. She nipped his bottom lip with her teeth and ended their kiss.

“If you won’t make love to me, then no more kisses for you my Laird.” She was defiant and still he just laughed.

“Well if ye won’t kiss me, I won’t give ye this letter I seem tae have found from Paris…”

“A letter from Paris? It must be from Amelia!”

“Uh uh… where’s my kiss?”

“Oh you fiend,” she said, leaning in to kiss him and grab the letter. Ripping it open, she loved receiving news of her sister’s travels. As soon as she had healed after Anton Evans tried to kill her, she had written immediately to her sister, only to find Amelia had fled their father and run away to Europe. She eventually tracked her down, and now letters came from all over.

“Well lass, what does it say?”

“Oh Lucas, it is wonderful news. Amelia is finally coming to Scotland. She will be here before winter!” Ella could not have happier. A sharp pain hit her in the side, and she clutched the letter tightly.

“Lass, what is it?” His voice filled with concern. Ella felt moisture pool between her legs, then at her feet.

“My Laird, I think your newest son is ready to meet you,” she said smiling at her husband.