“Look what I made,” Grace said, setting her pies down. “One apple spice and another with mashed pumpkin and cream. I even rolled the crust.”
“They are beautiful,” Ava said and leaned in to smell the cinnamon and cloves.
Grace stepped up to her ear. “I never had the chance at Somerset, but I think I enjoy cooking.” She backed up, letting Ava rise. “It’s rather like creating an intricate painting but with flavors for the tongue.”
Ava grinned. “Sounds like Alyce has created a disciple in the kitchen.”
“Very possibly.” Grace adjusted the wreath on her head and turned to look out at the cheerful crowds. “Where is Tor? I don’t see Hamish or Gavin, either.”
Ava looked behind her. “He was near the barn. They could have walked beyond the wall.”
“Let’s find them,” Grace said and linked her arm through Ava’s to walk out under the pointy portcullis. A wagon rumbled up the windy road from the shore, stopping by the low wall of rocks that edged the first row of cottages.
“There he is.” Grace pointed to Tor standing with Hamish near the river. He looked powerful and handsome in his festival kilt, his straight shoulders wide against his white linen shirt. The muscles in his calves stood chiseled with strength.
Ava’s insides tightened with giddiness by just looking at her husband. A private grin pulled the lines of her lips as she contemplated how best to tell him about the baby. But should she tell him the wonderful news before she told him the truth about her identity? Would it take some of the sting away or make it worse? Her smile faded.
“Good Lord,” Grace whispered next to her. “Who’s she?”
Ava turned toward the wagon where a dark-haired beauty disembarked. Even dusty and windblown, she practically glowed with mysterious sensuality. She smiled at the men fawning around her, several reaching to help her down. Her rosy cheeks and long, dark hair complemented her large, laughing eyes and creamy complexion. She wore a bright red and gold dress that made her look as scrumptious as a ripe apple.
“I’ve never seen her before,” Ava said. “And we’ve been helping Joan tend the villagers.”
Grace frowned. “She must be visiting.”
The woman spotted someone near the river and strode purposely across in that direction. She didn’t even seem to notice Ava and Grace standing several steps off the path. She walked with grace and speed, swaying her well-formed, voluptuous body, which was quite obvious in the cinched, low-cut bodice.
Without hesitation, she walked right up to Tor. Hamish spotted her and said something that made Tor turn. The mystery woman reached up to grab his neck, delivering a kiss hard on his lips.
“Bloody hell,” Grace said low.
Bloody hell. Ava blinked, holding her breath as every muscle tightened in her body. “She knows him,” Ava said. Knows him intimately.
“Let’s go introduce you as his wife.” Grace tugged, but Ava stayed rooted to the dirt.
Could there be another reason Tor hadn’t wanted to wed her? A dark brunette, with a perfectly curvy body, reason?
Tor remained tall, even leaning back a bit to disentangle the woman’s fingers from behind his head. He held her hands as he pulled them back around front between them, the distance breaking the kiss. He glanced over the woman’s shoulder, catching Ava’s stare. Ava felt her face flame. Foolish tears pressed behind her eyes, and she turned away, walking in the opposite direction.
Grace spun to catch up to her. “Where are you going?”
“Somewhere else,” Ava said.
“She’s obviously someone from his past that doesn’t know about you,” she said. “He didn’t look happy for that kiss. Are you crying?” Grace asked. “You never cry.”
Ava wiped at a stray tear. Damnation. Maybe she was with child. Normally she’d shrug off a slight, having endured many growing up. But this was nothing she’d encountered before. So, what did she know about normal? Maybe in matters of the heart, she was a weeping fool.
Up ahead, a horn echoed through the mountain pass. The cattle were thundering toward the valley. The large number of beasts threw up a cloud of dust in the distance. She spotted several Macleans on horseback driving them forward. A growing group of merrymakers near the edge of the village cheered as the horn blared again, calling festival goers to the spectacle that Joan said was a favorite at Samhain.
Ava veered away from the crowd toward the fence that had been erected to house the cattle for inspection after they’d been left to graze over the summer months. Best to avoid onlookers who might mention her pathetic expression to Tor.
“Well, he owes you an explanation,” Grace was saying, her words starting to come in little pants as she kept up with Ava’s rapid pace. They stopped behind the fencing where the cattle would corral.
“He doesn’t, actually,” Ava said, turning to Grace. “We don’t talk about our pasts. If I demand to know about his life before, he has every right to insist I reveal my own.”
“I thought you were going to do that anyway.”
“Yes…but in my own way.”
How exactly would that go? Tor, I’m not an earl’s half sister but a common English maid, and I’m having your baby. Do you still want us? And by the way, who is that bitch who was hanging around your neck at the festival?
Maybe she should start with the bitch. Although, who was to say that the woman in red was a bitch? Maybe she was just some hopeful woman in the village who had planned to marry Tor when she returned home from tending a sick relation. Wouldn’t that make Ava the husband-stealing bitch? The one revealed to be a common orphan instead of the English noblewoman to keep Aros off King Henry’s suspect list? A lying sorner who would soon be too plump to entice any man, let alone a man as sexy and brawn as Tor Mclean?
“Helloooo? Ava?” Grace looked from one of Ava’s eyes to another. “Can you hear me?”
Ava blinked against the pressure of unshed tears and felt another roll of nausea. “I don’t feel well.”
“You’re pale,” Grace said loudly over the growing sound of the herd, holding her arm. “Sit down before you faint.” She helped boost Ava up one step to sit on the short fence, her back to the riders who whooped and yelled in celebration of the thundering herd.
Would Tor run right to the busty beauty as soon as Ava told him she wasn’t anyone important? The woman looked like someone who could certainly keep him entertained in and out of bed. Ava rubbed a hand against the nauseous bubble in her upper middle. The ground seemed to shift below the fence, and she wobbled with a sudden feeling of weakness.
“Good God, Ava!” Grace grabbed her arm to steady her, but the churning mess in Ava’s mind was causing her chin to feel numb. Little stars crowded the periphery of her vision, with Grace’s face seeming to grow farther away even though she stood right before her. Ava felt Grace tug on her heavy arms, but nothing could stop her from falling backward into the corral.
…
“Where the hell did she go?” Tor asked Hamish as they strode away from Bridget MacDougal beside the river. The widow had been away with her sister through her sister’s confinement and hadn’t heard Tor had wed. She certainly deserved more than the quick explanation Tor had given, but the look on Ava’s face had been filled with pain. He’d left Gavin with Bridget and would apologize later. Right now, he needed to find his wife.
His mother stood talking with several ladies from the village as Tor rounded the curve toward the meadow. In the distance, the cattle horn blew a third time. “Have ye seen Ava?” Tor asked his mother.
Joan smiled. “Aye, up in the bailey, but I was just in Gladys’s house. She could have wandered down to watch the herd coming in.” She waved to the ladies and walked with Tor and Hamish down toward the gathering crowd. Tor could feel the vibration of the incoming cattle through the bottoms of his boots.
“Tor,” Hamish said. He slapped him on the shoulder and pointed toward the fence. “There. Grace and Ava.”
“What the hell is she doing sit
ting on the fence?” Tor yelled. He watched in horror as Grace grabbed Ava’s arms and dug in her heels to halt her downward progress. But Grace wasn’t strong enough, and Ava fell backward just as the herd flew over the crest toward the corral.
He and Hamish took off at the same time his mother screamed. “The bairn!”
The bairn? Tor’s legs kept moving as he swiveled around to look at his mother. She jabbed her arm toward Ava, her finger pointed, and he turned back around, his gaze focused on his fallen wife. Her skirts were up, her legs and feet falling down over top of her on the inside of the fence where she lay in a heap of petticoats and golden material.
Pumping his arms, Tor churned up rocks in the road as he flew past Hamish. He could see the cattle surging forward, the cattlemen doing their jobs to funnel the large animals into the pen. They didn’t know Ava lay inside, about to be trampled. Ava and a bairn? His bairn?
Grace was foolishly trying to climb over the fence to help Ava. “Get her,” Tor yelled to Hamish as he pointed to Ava’s cousin. Several men, who had seen what had happened, were running toward the fence. Tor slammed past all of them, his hands grabbing the top slat of the fence to hurl himself over.
The cattle had entered the corral at full speed. Bellows and snorts, along with the thundering hooves overrode the yells from the crowd. Tor’s arms shot through a handful of material, grabbing until he felt the warmth of Ava’s body in his hands. In a rapid lift, Tor yanked her from the ground as the first steer veered at the last moment to dodge left, avoiding a collision with him and the back fence. Tor held Ava between his chest and the fence as more cows dodged, kicking at one another in their confusion.
“Take her!” he yelled to Thomas, who stood over the fence, and the blacksmith tugged her from his grasp. “Careful.”
Ava was unconscious, her long lashes flat against pale skin. Had she fainted before she fell, or been knocked unconscious by the fall? Tor kicked up easily over the low fence.
“She just swooned.” Grace panted, her face splotchy. She twisted in Hamish’s arms as he’d grabbed her from the fence. She swatted at his chest until he let go. “I couldn’t hold her. Good Lord, she could have been trampled.”
Tor’s mother pushed through the crowd. “We need to get her inside.”
Tor lifted her from Thomas. She felt so fragile in his arms, her pink lips parted, hair falling free from its pins. He glanced to his right where his mother trotted to keep up with his long strides back toward the keep. “Ye said a bairn. What bairn?”
His mother’s lips tightened, and for a long moment he didn’t think she’d answer. “She’s with child. I know it, even if she’s not certain yet.” Her words were whispered. “No one knows.” She grabbed his arm, her fingers digging through the shirt. “Act surprised when she tells ye.”
His mother was daft. “I just want her to wake.”
Grace caught up, running, her skirts clutched in her hands. “I slowed her on the way down, so I don’t think she hit her head very hard. I just couldn’t pull her back up.”
“What was she doing up there, anyway?” Hamish asked on his other side as the crowd opened to let their little party through the mass gathered at the portcullis.
“She wasn’t feeling well after seeing that woman kiss you,” Grace blurted out. “I set her down on the only thing close.”
“Who was kissing ye?” Joan asked.
Tor stared down at Ava’s closed face. Soft, pale skin that smelled of flowers, gently arched brows that could communicate a thousand words in their movement, and her parted lips, perfect lips that he worshipped every night as he loved her. His gut held tight as he cradled her close.
“Bridget is back,” Hamish answered Joan when he didn’t.
“And ye kissed her?” Joan shot out, jabbing the meat of his arm with her pointy fist. “And where your wife could see ye?” She punched him a second time.
“Cease,” Tor said low, not wanting to yell while carrying Ava so close. “She kissed me before I could explain. When she left, I was unattached with no plans to wed.” He climbed the steps to the keep doors. The musicians had stopped, and a hush had fallen upon the merrymakers as they cleared a path for Tor and Ava.
Tor glanced at Hamish. “See to the cattle. Ma, bring your medicines. Grace…” He looked at the woman who had tears in her eyes that enhanced the mix of guilt and worry swirling there. “Come help me.”
“Of course,” she whispered and raced in front to prop open the door.
Tor took the narrow stairs by twos to reach their bedchamber, and pushed through the door before Grace could catch him. As he strode across the floor he felt Ava stir in his arms. Her lips closed and opened, her eyes moving behind her lids. He lowered her gently to the bed.
Grace ran up, panting, and straightened Ava’s skirts. She brushed the hair away from her face. Tor stood back, stiff and watching. Was he responsible? She’d been upset after seeing Bridget. Had stalked away and become dizzy. She’d gone still again there on the bed. Unnaturally still, like when they’d found Matilda.
“Ava. Wake up. Ava?” Grace called straight into her face.
Ava’s lips pulled together into a gentle O. “What happened?” she whispered, and Tor sucked in a full breath of air to feed his depleted lungs. He knew she was alive, had felt her stir, but hearing her voice unknotted the clenching within him.
“You swooned and fell into the corral right as all the cattle thundered in,” Grace said. “I tried to keep you up, but I didn’t have much leverage, and you’re heavy with all those petticoats.”
Tor stepped closer. “Does your head ache? Ye may have hit it.”
Ava’s gray eyes focused upward at him. Her face looked tight, her expression mistrusting. She reached behind to feel her head. “No bumps.” Her gaze moved to Grace. “Thank you for catching me.”
Grace smiled. “You caused quite a stir down there.” Ava made a little groan and pushed the heels of her hands into the cover to sit up against the pillows.
Joan ran through the door. “I have a raspberry decoction to calm her womb. And I have vinegar to rouse her.”
“She is roused,” Tor said.
“Calm her womb?” Grace asked, but his mother ignored her.
Joan bent to stare into Ava’s face. “Head aching? I have a poultice for the bump.”
“No ache and no bump,” Ava said.
“Are ye cramping?” Joan whispered, but Tor could still hear her.
“She needs to rest. Rest and food,” Tor said.
Ava sat up higher in the bed so she could see over his mother’s bent shoulder. “You do know that stuffing me full of tarts won’t make me more…round and voluptuous. My frame will always be smaller.”
“Not if ye are…get pregnant,” Joan said, but Ava’s frown was completely focused on Tor.
“I thought ye liked tarts,” he said, because he had no idea how to respond.
“She does,” Grace put in, her gaze shifting between them in confusion.
“I do,” Ava said. “But I won’t become larger in the bosom or hips.”
“Ye will when ye’re pregnant,” Joan said.
“Why do you keep saying that?” Grace asked Joan and looked at Ava. “Raspberry tea to calm the womb?”
Tor grumbled quickly, his teeth grinding in frustration. “Out.” He looked at Grace and Joan. “I have need to speak with my wife. Alone.”
“Drink the decoction,” Joan ordered, pointing to the small tray she’d set on the side table. She tugged Grace along with her out the door, shutting it slowly behind them.
…
Ava motioned to the cup on the side table. “I should drink that.” Tor handed it to her, and she sipped, letting the warm, sweet liquid wash away the dust in her throat. She still felt a little wobbly and a lot embarrassed at causing such a spectacle.
Tor stood beside the bed. “Bridget is a friend from before ye came to Aros.”
“A kissing friend.” Ava stared at the concentric circles in the pale, ro
se-colored brew.
“Aye, but that was in the past. I didn’t have a chance to explain it to her before she did that.”
Ava’s chest felt too tight. “Is she why you didn’t want to marry me?” she asked, her voice even but soft. “Were you planning to ask her?”
Tor reached behind to rub his neck. “I won’t lie to ye and say it never crossed my mind. She’s a widow, about my age, and was willing. I may have asked her eventually, but I had no plans.” He sat on the edge of the bed, and Ava scooted over so as not to roll into him. He looked in her face, meeting her gaze. “Ava, you and me, we may have started off…wedding for practical reasons, but ye need to know that I’m quite content that we did. More than content.”
“That’s good to know,” she said, her voice as neutral as her view on his statement. Contentment wasn’t love, but then again, the man thought his heart was dead. Ava clutched the blanket under her and wet her lips. “Tor.” She paused as her mind tumbled words around. They were alone, and he was talking about his past. Maybe she should say something about hers, at least part of it. Without total honesty, how could they ever have a chance at love? Because Ava realized that she was headed that way, and it scared her. Love only equaled pain when it wasn’t returned.
“Aye?”
“I have something I want to tell you, that I’ve been meaning to tell you. I—”
“Your secret?” he asked, cutting her off so that her mouth hung open.
He knew she had a secret? How? Who would have hinted to him? Certainly not Grace. “Uh…yes. A secret that’s been weighing on me,” she answered.
A slight grin touched his lips. “I already know, Ava.”
Her eyes opened wide. “Who…told you?”
“My ma. The woman can’t keep her tongue. She told me not to let on that I know.”
Joan told him? Ava’s mind clicked quickly with a bizarre mix of disappointment and relief. “Oh,” Ava exhaled. “Yes.” She glanced down at her still-flat stomach. “I might be pregnant. I didn’t want to tell you until I knew for certain.”
Tor ran his hand down her stomach. “Ma thinks ye are. I’ve never known her to be wrong.”
The Beast of Aros Castle (Highland Isles) Page 14
