Chapter 21
“I’m sorry, child, I did nay mean to wake you.” Neala said as she entered Claire’s chamber. “I dinna expect to find you here.”
Stretching in the chair before the cold hearth in her chamber, Claire replied, “Please don’t worry about it. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” Clearly Neala waited for more of an explanation. “Aliana was busy, so I put Cerwyn down for his nap. I felt a little dizzy so I just came to sit down for a moment.” She remembered the commotion in the office that drove her upstairs. “Besides, all the yelling downstairs was driving me crazy. Do you know what Ian and Tavis are arguing about?”
“All I ken is that ‘tis finished for now. Ian left the grounds a wee bit ago saying he needed a ride.” Neala placed a hand to Claire’s forehead “You dinna feel warm, and there is no trace of flush to your skin. If anything, you appear a bit pale. What else ails you?”
“Nothing, Neala. After taking the nap, I feel much better. I was probably just tired.” With a glance to the light that streamed in the window, she quickly decided that she had lost maybe an hour of the day to the nap.
“You have been tired and a wee bit dizzy for most of the week. Mayhap a night or two in here would serve you well,” Neala scolded.
Claire felt the blush spread across her cheeks and changed the topic. “What brings you here, Neala? Is there something I can help you with?” The pile of clean clothing on the bed answered the question. “Thank you. I can put these things away.” She picked up a small cloth bag next to the folded laundry. “Here, this isn’t mine. It must have gotten mixed up with my things.”
Neala ignored the bag in her hand and moved to the chest at the foot of the bed. “Forgive me, I have been negligent in renewing your supply.” She pulled out an already full similar bag. “Of course, child, you found your own.”
She was sure it was the fault of the nap that she couldn’t understand Neala. Normally the housekeeper made sense, but today Claire could not follow their conversation. “Neala, what are we talking about?”
Neala held up the bag and stated slowly, “This, child, is what we speak of. I am merely stating that you have what you need. Honestly, some days ‘tis very hard to make you understand my words.”
“What is that? I’ve never understood why I have that.”
Neala took a moment to compose her thoughts and spoke as if to a small child. “Claire, this is for when you have your monthly courses. Mayhap you brought your own supply?”
The dizzy sensation returned with a hard blast and forced her to sit on the bed. Her mind whirled as she realized what Neala meant. Dark ages maxi pads, that’s what was in the bag. They were something she hadn’t needed in the almost seven weeks she’d been there. She found it hard to count with panic taking over. The last time she had her period was the week before she met Ian.
Oh shit.
She forced her mind to focus on the simple math. The contents of that bag should have been needed roughly three weeks ago. That would mean . . . “Neala, I should have needed those weeks ago. Before I, that is, before I started spending my nights, well you know, with Ian.” Claire buried her face in her hands.
“Child, do I need to remind you there was a night spent with Ian before you arrived here? You are nay the first one I have heard of conceiving so quickly,” Neala offered. “‘Tis a fine thing, Claire. I am certain that Ian will welcome this child you carry.”
“You are with child?” Aliana’s voice caused her to look up from her hands.
“Keep your voice down. Your brother should hear it from Claire and nay the gossip of the lasses,” Neala quickly reprimanded the too-loud outburst. The housekeeper rose to close the door while she ushered Aliana into the chamber.
“I think so.” Claire’s mind was a jumble of thoughts. We made a baby that night at the inn, he said he loves me, he’s going to marry Mairi in just a couple of days, I’m pregnant . . .
“Are you throwing up yet?” Aliana asked with an expectant grin on her face.
“No, Aliana. I’ve just been tired and a little dizzy. My mother never threw up with me. Maybe that kind of thing doesn’t happen to everyone.”
Neala’s calm voice reassured her. “‘Tis truth you speak, child. Nay all find their stomachs in such turmoil. Mayhap you will have the good fortune of an easy time.”
Neala and Aliana discussed symptoms and remedies, and Claire couldn’t fathom how they could just accept this. This wasn’t what was supposed to happen.
Obviously you weren’t paying attention in sophomore year’s health class. This is exactly what happens.
Brooke’s voice in her head mocked her inability to deal with this revelation.
Claire gave voice to the fear foremost on her mind. “I don’t think Ian is going to be happy about this.”
Surprised by the statement, Aliana jumped in. “My brother has had no issue speaking of his love for you. If the man beds you each night, a child is usually soon to come. But is it nay too soon to look for a child?”
“I think this is from that first night, the one I told you about at the inn.”
Aliana softened her voice. “A child conceived on a wedding night. Nay many can claim to know such a thing.”
Claire’s voice was weak, “Aliana, it wasn’t a wedding night.”
“But it should have been, and we all ken that.” Aliana let out a squeal as she clapped her hands. “It will be so fine. We will raise our bairns together.” Claire ignored the litany of things their babies would share.
Neala’s voice was the one she heard. “You need to speak of this to Ian today, child. No good will come from waiting. Let him hear it from your mouth. I have no doubt Ian will wish for this gift you carry.”
“I swear I will nay tell Ian. Can I tell Hagan or do you wish to?” Aliana stopped for air and then said, “All will be fine, Claire. I promise you.”
Though both women showed only joy, the smile Claire gave them carried no warmth. “I’ll tell him tonight. You can tell Hagan later tonight, his reaction I can do without.” She let the other two women discuss the rest: the clothing to be readied for a larger version of her, the child to come, foods to be eaten and also avoided, and much more that she never heard clearly. Her hand rested on her flat abdomen, and Claire wished she had Mairi’s faith that prayer would make everything just right.
The ride had accomplished nothing. No clarity of thought or peace of mind was to be found. He was aware that the evening meal had passed without him, and he cared not one bit. What is one meal to care about? There would be more, of that there would be more. Ian’s mind could not grasp the events that needed to happen that night. How does a man do this? Why would any ever want to?
With a nod of appreciation to the lass who handed him the pitcher of whiskey, Ian walked to the stairs. Dread filled his every step. The deed was not yet done, and already he was dead inside. He hoped he was the first to reach the chamber this night because several cups would be needed before he could begin to see the deed done. Several pitchers would be needed after.
Claire left Cerwyn asleep in the nursery and made her way to Ian’s chamber. The pep talk from Neala and Aliana during their quiet meal in Aliana’s chambers gave her the belief that all would be well. She paused outside the door and took a deep cleansing breath and hoped again that they were right. Doubt plagued her thoughts. She and Ian had talked about many things, but never children.
Walking into the chamber, she knew immediately something was wrong. Still, she followed habit as she took off her boots and placed them near the door. Ian stared out the window with his hands braced on the sides of the opening, and he had not bothered to acknowledge her entrance. She figured the earlier argument with Tavis had not been resolved. Making a path around the bed to stand behind Ian, she wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned against his back. “What’s wrong?”<
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Ian gripped her hands and spoke to the window. “There are things that must be said this night, sweeting.”
With a soft unsteady voice, Claire said, “There is something I need to tell you, too.”
He turned to face her, reached to hold her face in his hands, and rested his forehead against her. “Sweeting, I must speak first, or I will lose my resolve.” Far too quickly, Ian let her go and made for the table before the fire and the cup waiting for him.
Claire was stunned as Ian walked away from her without even a kiss. She knew what it was by the pitcher beside the cup. “Is it that bad?”
With his back to her, “Aye.” He drained the cup and refilled it. Ian’s gaze rested on the chessboard. “On the morrow you will leave with Hagan for the Douglas keep. They will keep you safe and provide a fine home for you.”
“All right. How long will we stay there?” She remembered Hagan saying he often stayed for a week or so when he went for a visit. She rationalized this was most likely to keep her away from the wedding.
Ian blurted out, “‘Tis nay my choice. Tavis has demanded that you are gone before the marriage can take place. Should you stay, he will cancel the alliance and demand full payment made for the funds used for the dowry. I can nay pay him, you ken well there is nay nearly that much wealth at my disposal.”
“So I leave for a bit to make him happy?” As her mind began to process the surprise request, she asked, “Why do I need to be gone? I thought you said no one would question what was between us?”
“Tavis oversteps his place. I dinna win this argument though I have tried. He says we shame his daughter, and that can nay be allowed.” After another large gulp, Ian continued, “You will nay be returning. He intends to leave men here to ensure you remain away. Tavis has me bound to him through the coin he paid to the Crown. ‘Tis nay what I would have, sweeting, please believe me.” Ian finally turned to face her and whispered, “Forgive me, Claire.”
When did breathing get so hard? I can’t get the air in deep enough.
As Claire began to process exactly what had been said, she stumbled as a wave of dizziness took hold. Pushing away his hand that offered to steady her, she questioned, “Forgive you?”
Oh my goodness, I’ve been kicked out. Just like that, I’m nothing.
The realization slammed into her that everything Ian ever said was wrong, a lie. Just like her existence here in that place, it was all wrong.
Claire could only manage a whisper. “You’re sending me away.” Tears began to fall as gravity pulled too hard on her body. “What exactly do I forgive?”
Do I forgive losing the place I now call home? Do I forgive that you lied about what was between us? Do I forgive you only loved me when it was convenient? Do I forgive that I’m now pregnant and on my own?
She couldn’t verbalize her thoughts. It took all of her concentration to remain on her feet and not fall to the floor.
Ian spoke with a desperate plea. “This is beyond my control, Claire. I offered to make payments to the man, anything to have him change his mind. We argued most of the morning. Tavis’ final words were if you were nay gone on the morrow, he would ride to the king to seek damages. I can nay risk the lives of my clan and of those in the village because of us.”
She heard the pain in his voice, but it didn’t change anything. She had been kicked out. Ian said more, but she had no idea what is was. The only sound she heard was the blood rushing in her ears, and she could only feel the pain of being tossed aside like something dirty and used. She backed away, and her only clear thought was to get away from him.
She grabbed for the latch on the door, only to be stopped by his arms around her waist. Claire fought her instinctive reaction and refused to lean back against him. “Please dinna leave, sweeting. We can spend this last night together. There was something you wished to say. We can sit by the fire and talk. Please dinna leave.”
For a split second, “yes” was on her lips. His scent filled her nostrils. Once it had brought only comfort. Yet Claire knew spending the night with Ian would only make it worse. It would be one more wrong. There would be only pain, as she remembered everything he had promised, and none of it was true. Her body wanted to stay, but her mind ruled.
She mocked his plea. “Dinna leave? Dinna leave? You just told me to leave. You are kicking me out.” Her gaze fell to his hands wrapped around her waist. They touched where their child would grow, and she pushed the arms away. “Let go of me, Ian. We have nothing left to say.”
Without looking back, Claire ran down the corridor and tried to evade Ian as he followed.
Chapter 22
“It took me forever to find you. This is one hell of a hiding spot,” Brooke’s voice aired annoyance at having to look for her friend. “I’ve got everything we need right here in the bag: ice cream, those lemon cookies you love, and tequila”—she pulled one last item from the shopping bag—“and limes. Wouldn’t want to get the scurvy. One complete broken heart kit at your service.”
“Ian won’t come in here. It’s the only place I could think of to be alone. The kitchen is empty this late.” Claire picked herself off the floor and moved to the table in the kitchen of the keep. “I can’t drink, Brooke. I’m pregnant.”
With a quick eye roll, Brooke said, “Don’t be stupid. You’re dreaming, so you can do whatever you want.” She poured a shot and handed it to her with a wedge of lime. “A toast! To all the assholes! May they rot in hell for what they’ve done to us.”
Claire threw back the shot and grimaced at the way it burned down her throat. “What do I do now? I’m not sure what to do.” Even Claire knew she was pathetic with a voice choked with tears and sobs.
“Well, if you were at home I’d say we grab dinner, drink ourselves into oblivion, or maybe just stay up late watching movies. Since we are not together, you are going to have to do whatever you can. Look on the bright side, you don’t have to tell your mom you’re knocked up.” Brooke offered a big grin before she cracked into the mint chocolate chip ice cream.
“That is the first happy thought I’ve had in a while.” Taking a bite of the cookie, Claire added, “I almost had forgotten how good these are. Seriously, Brooke, what do I do now? It hurts in a way I never thought possible. I can’t breathe. I can’t see. I feel like I’ve died inside.”
Brooke slammed down another shot and smacked the table with the shot glass. “It’s not that hard, Claire. You do what women have always done, you move on. Of course, in your case that’s literal. Hagan will take you to his family. He’s a good guy, and he will only do right by you. As for the rest, time heals all wounds, they say. You know what? They’re right. It will take time, but you’ll be okay.”
With laughter through her tears, Claire said, “You had to mention time.” She took a moment to compose herself. “It’s not just me now.” She helped herself to one more shot of tequila with a quick hit of lime. “I thought Ian was the one, Brooke. I really did. How could I have been so wrong? Everything about him was so perfect. Seriously, I thought he was the one.”
“We always do. Well, you don’t, but I do.” Brooke’s voice became more cynical, “You should have already been through this, a heartbreak. It sucks, but it’s real. You’ve spent so long avoiding real.”
Taken aback by the tone of voice Brooke used, she retorted, “What exactly does that mean? My pain isn’t real enough for you? Too bad because it sure as hell feels real to me.” Claire could feel she was about to burst into a renewed round of tears. “I don’t know what to think anymore. This morning I thought I had it all figured out. I discover I’m pregnant, and then I’m told to leave. It hurts so much!”
With a serious look that did not belong on her face, Brooke leaned towards her. “You forgot, Claire. That’s been the problem all along. You forgot.”
Stunned by her friend, Claire r
etorted, “I know that now. I forgot I could have gotten pregnant. Someone help me, I sound like some bad after school special.”
Brooke stepped away from her and melted into the shadows of the kitchen. She taunted, “You think that’s what you forgot? You could not be more wrong.”
Before her eyes, Brooke’s face and clothes morphed. Claire now stared into her own face. This version of her was from home; her hair was pulled back in the usual ponytail. She wore her black uniform from the martial arts studio and her black belt bearing its two stripes in gold thread. Her image of her mocked her. “You forgot, Claire.”
She hated the shift in the dream, but she was compelled to ask, “What did I forget?” This was the singular question, the one that had plagued her dreams for weeks.
With her hands flat on the table, the illusion leaned over the table, and said, “You forgot who you are. You forgot what you want, what you need, and mostly what you deserve.”
Not to be taunted by her own image, Claire said, “Don’t you dare talk to me like that. You wanted him, too. You love him as much as I do, admit it.”
“Yes, I do. I also know it was wrong from the start. You knew that, too. It’s why we stayed away from him and why we ran away from him that drunken night when he offered what little he could. We knew all along that the people here came first. Isn’t that why we didn’t walk in here as Mrs. Laird? We knew it was wrong.”
[2015] The Draig's Woman Page 23
