Chapter 15
Fiona nearly hurled her boots at the bedchamber door as it shut behind Ewan. If she could have reached them without getting out of bed, she would have. Even better, she thought, would be to hurl them at Ewan’s thick head. It had been one week since Menzies had captured her and died for it. One very long week, for Ewan was still treating her as if she were made of precious glass. That restraint she had thought she had weakened in him was back in full strength.
She sighed as she cautiously sat up. It was probably for the best that her attempt at seduction this morning had succeeded only in making Ewan flee the room. She was feeling somewhat nauseous, and if he saw her become ill, she feared he would lock her in the bedchamber and have Mab drown her in healthy potions.
A cold sweat broke out on her skin and she dove for the chamber pot. Once she was sure the retching had ended, she cleaned her teeth, rinsed her mouth, and crawled back into bed. She breathed in and out very slowly until her stomach calmed and the weakness caused by her illness had passed.
There was little doubt in her mind as to what ailed her. She was with child. She had not bled once since her marriage. Fiona would not be surprised if she had gotten with child that very first time. No one could question the potency of a MacFingal man. Or a Cameron, she mused, thinking about all of Sigimor’s brothers and cousins.
Resting her hand over her womb, she felt both elated and troubled. She wanted to bear Ewan’s child, yet a part of her wished his seed had not taken root quite so quickly. Their marriage still needed work to be a good one and her feelings were still unreturned. What sort of life was that to bring a child into?
Fiona eased herself up into a sitting position again, pleased to find that her stomach held steady. She decided she would keep the child a secret for a while. Not only did she want to be sure the child was set firmly within her womb, but there was always the chance that something else ailed her. She also wanted more time with Ewan without the presence of the child confusing matters. Fiona did not want to be put into the untenable position of trying to decide whether whatever Ewan said or did was simply because she was carrying his child. Trying to understand the man was difficult enough already.
Although she was tempted to crawl back into bed and sleep for a few more hours, Fiona got dressed. Ewan had finally come up with a plan to send word to Connor about where she was, how she fared, and their marriage. It had been difficult to wait so long to let Connor know that she was safe, but she understood the reasons for the delay. Any MacFingal leaving Scarglas had to cross the lands of their enemies and such journeys required very precise planning. She certainly did not want someone to die just to deliver a message to her family. Before the men left, however, she had a message of her own she wanted to send to Connor.
By the time Fiona reached the great hall to break her fast, she was feeling much better. She knew she was eating a lot more than she usually did, but ignored Sir Fingal’s looks of surprise and curiosity. It was a little harder to ignore the sharp looks Mab kept giving her. Mab was a good enough healer to easily guess Fiona’s condition, and she decided she would have to have a quiet word with the woman. Although Mab was not quite as scatter-witted as many thought, Fiona knew it was possible the woman could blurt out the wrong word at the wrong time all too easily unless counseled beforehand.
“Wheesht, lass,” muttered Sir Fingal as Fiona helped herself to a fourth chunk of bread heavily covered with butter, “ye will be as big as Mab if ye keep stuffing food down your gullet like that.”
“I am nay big,” snapped Mab.
“Nay, ye arenae,” Fiona said, patting Mab’s plump arm as she frowned at Sir Fingal. “And why are ye complaining about how much I am eating, Sir Fingal? Ye are the one who is always complaining that I am naught but bones. Mayhap I but decided to heed your words and try to put some more meat on my bones.”
Sir Fingal snorted. “Ye wouldnae heed my advice e’en if I held a knife to your pretty throat. And concerning your bones, it appears my son likes them just fine. He may nay want ye putting any meat on them.”
He isnae going to have any say in the matter soon, Fiona mused, and nearly smiled. “When do the men leave to take word to my brother?” she asked him.
“Soon. An hour, mayhap a wee bit more. Why?”
“I just thought I would send a wee message of my own.”
“Why? Ewan said all that was needed, didnae he?”
“Aye, but my brother may have a doubt or two left after he reads Ewan’s message. He doesnae ken who any of ye are, does he? So, I thought just a word or two of assurance from me, something he would ken as a message only I could send, would ease those doubts and aid him in welcoming the men ye send.” She gave Sir Fingal her most innocent look and held it firmly even when he gave her a long, narrow-eyed stare.
“Clever, lass,” he murmured, revealing his doubts about the truth of her claim. “Weel, do as ye wish. Ye ken your brother better than any of us do. Do ye think he will come here?”
“Oh, aye, but nay for a wee while. Tis a busy time of the year. I suspect Gilly will insist upon coming, too, and that will require some verra careful planning. And Connor may feel a need to brood o’er the fact that ’twas Ewan who killed Menzies and nay him.”
When Sir Fingal nodded in solemn understanding of that last statement, Fiona had to stuff some bread into her mouth to keep from grinning. Connor was going to enjoy Scarglas, she thought as she watched Old Marta talking to her unseen friends while she cleaned the hearth. Peter sat in a far corner eating porridge, his stench keeping all others away. Although, she mused, he did look a little cleaner since the men had tied him to a post in the bailey and left him out in the rain two days ago. The more Fiona came to know the odd people Sir Fingal had allowed into Scarglas, the more she began to think that, despite his many faults, he was actually a very nice man. Underneath all that grumbling might actually be a very large heart. Someday she would find out why it did not beat quite so warmly for the women he bedded.
As soon as she felt pleasantly full, Fiona hurried out of the great hall, Mab close at her heels. Mab followed her to her bedchamber, where she collected the letter she had written to Connor, then back down the stairs. The moment Fiona stepped outside, she turned to frown at her silent guard.
“Why are ye following me?” she asked Mab.
“Because ye are hiding something, I think,” Mab replied.
“Are ye sure Ewan didnae tell ye to watch o’er me?”
“Nay, why should he do that?”
“Because he seems to have gotten it into his thick head that I need to be watched and coddled like some puling invalid. I told him naught happened whilst Menzies held me captive, but I begin to think he doesnae believe me. Ah, there is Brian.”
Mab followed Fiona as she hurried over to Ewan’s younger brother. “What do ye want with Brian?”
“He is one of the men going to see Connor,” replied Fiona, “and I want to give him this letter.”
“He will tell Ewan.”
“Nay, he willnae.”
Fiona stopped before Ewan’s twenty-three-year-old brother and smiled at him. It never ceased to amaze her how much the brothers resembled each other. They were all big and dark like their father. Some had softer, more handsome features, some had different colored eyes, but there was no mistaking their heritage. Brian had eyes of a slightly darker shade of blue than Nathan’s, and although his features were very similar to Ewan’s, they were not as harshly drawn.
“Why are ye smiling at me like that?” Brian asked, looking both amused and suspicious.
“I have a letter from me that I wish ye to deliver to my brother Connor.” Fiona handed him the letter.
“But Ewan has already written one,” Brian said even as he tucked her letter into the small leather pouch hanging from his belt. “Do ye want Ewan’s back?”
“Nay. Give both to Connor.”
“Ah, and I suspicion Ewan doesnae ken ye wrote one yourself, does he?”
“I will tell him about it after ye are gone.” She rolled her eyes at the look of suspicion that darkened his face. “Tis no plot, nothing to anger my brother. S’truth, it will make him much calmer.”
“I dinnae think I ought to be helping ye keep secrets from my brother. My brother who is also my laird.”
“There are no dark secrets in that letter, only a few things I havenae told Ewan yet. Personal things.” She held his gaze for several minutes, then breathed an inner sigh of relief when he nodded. “Oh, and ask Gillyanne for her receipt for a morning tonic. She will understand.” By the sharp look Brian suddenly gave her, she had the feeling he did as well. Mab’s soft aha undoubtedly confirmed his suspicion.
They all watched as Old Marta walked by them carrying on a vigorous, one-sided argument, and then Fiona looked to Mab for an explanation. Before Mab could reply, however, Ewan strode up to them and frowned at Fiona. She inwardly sighed, preparing herself for the lecture he had grown fond of giving her for the last week. The man seemed to have convinced himself that Menzies’s attack had turned her into some frail creature who needed to stay in bed and drink a lot of vile potions to strengthen her blood.
“Ye should be resting,” Ewan began.
“I was just giving Brian a few greetings to pass along to my family,” Fiona said as she hooked her arm through Mab’s. “Now I must go and help Mab make some soap. God’s speed, Brian,” she said as she pulled Mab toward the herb hut.
“Why should she be resting?” Brian asked Ewan.
“She needs to rest after the travail she went through whilst in Menzies’s hold,” Ewan answered, frowning after his wife, who appeared to have fled his presence.
“She looked hale to me. Menzies didnae cut her again or rape her or e’en beat her badly. I dinnae think she suffered so direly that she needs to still be resting. It has been a full week.”
The way Brian was looking at him made Ewan nervous. There was an uncomfortable mixture of amusement and understanding in his brother’s expression. Ewan knew he was, perhaps, being too cautious about Fiona’s health, but just when he would begin to think that, he would vividly recall seeing her dangling from that tree limb, blood on her shift and a bruise upon her jaw. He would also recall that icy fear which had gripped him at the thought of losing her.
“She isnae a verra big woman,” he muttered. “She is just a wee, delicate lass.”
Brian laughed. “A delicate wee lass who can wield a sword like a mon, wrestle Clare into shutting her bitter mouth, kill a mon, swing herself up into a tree whilst her hands are still bound, and climb down it almost as swiftly and silently as Simon, run like a hart—”
“Enough,” snapped Ewan, but then he cursed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I rather like having a wife. Tis my duty to see that she takes care of herself.”
“Of course it is. Then again, one must be careful that one’s duty doesnae start to smother a person.” Brian glanced toward the herb shed. “Or make them flee one’s presence.”
Ewan winced. “Noticed that, did ye?”
“Twas hard not to. Ewan, I think the verra worst thing ye could do to a woman like Fiona is to try to wrap her up in soft blankets and make her sit quietly in a corner. E’en if, by some miracle, she allowed it, I think she would soon wither and die like a cut flower.” He shrugged. “I have heard some of the tales of how she spent the first thirteen years of her life. I am certain ye have heard the same, and more. Ye may try to remember some of them from time to time. And remember that your wee, delicate wife survived.” Brian slapped Ewan on the back and started toward the horses that had been readied for his journey. “Time to leave. Pray to God that we get to the MacEnroys without meeting any trouble on the way. I begin to think I will need all my wits and strength to deal with Fiona’s family.”
When Brian and his six companions were gone, Ewan turned to stare at the herb shed. It was not comfortable to have one’s younger brother guess at one’s fears, he mused, but that moment of embarrassment had given him some very good advice to heed. He was letting his fears turn his wits to warm gruel. Fiona might look delicate, a fair and frail flower, but she was pure steel beneath that soft skin. He had felt the strength in her often enough to wonder how he could have forgotten it.
What Brian had not guessed (and Ewan thanked God for that small mercy) was that, in his effort to coddle Fiona, he had been denying himself the joy of her passion. Fiona had made it very apparent, especially this morning, that she was willing and able to make love, yet he had stoutly ignored her invitations. That was a self-imposed punishment he did not intend to suffer any longer. For a moment, he was sorely tempted to go and get her, carry her to their bedchamber, and thoroughly feed the hunger that had been knotting his innards for a week. He shook away that tempting plan as he started toward the training fields. Tonight would be soon enough, if she was not still angry or offended over his hasty rejection of her this morning. Ewan wondered if there was any way a man could grovel without actually appearing to do so.
“I ought to make him grovel,” Fiona muttered as she viciously ground some poppy seeds in a stone mortar. “I ought to make him get down on his knees and plead most prettily. Then I could kick him.”
“Fiona!” Mab snatched the pestle out of Fiona’s hand and glanced warily at the fine powder in the mortar. “If ye were imagining this was your husband, I must assume that he has angered ye.” She looked at Fiona. “Is that why ye havenae told him that ye carry his bairn?”
“Tis too early to be certain of that,” Fiona protested.
“Oh, I think ye ken it as weel as I do. Ye are with child. Kenning such a thing is something I have always been able to do, e’er since I was a wee lass. I can see it almost from the moment the mon’s seed has taken root.” Mab frowned. “I ceased telling women when I kenned they were with child for they began to whisper that I was a witch. I was seeing it too early, ye ken, ere they had e’en wondered on the possibility.”
After dealing with Gillyanne and all her kinsmen, Fiona was accustomed to people with odd gifts, and she just nodded. “If ye kenned I was with child, why havenae ye said anything?”
“Twas the oddest thing, but I couldnae be certain, not until this morning. The feeling I get when a woman is with child was there, but ’twas e’er so slightly different. Then, this morning, when ye walked into the great hall, that feeling was as true and clear as it has e’er been.”
“And then I began to eat a meal that would have done Ewan proud.” Fiona grinned when Mab giggled. “Aye, I feel sure I am with child. I havenae bled since I married Ewan and the last two mornings I have been unweel. I havenae told Ewan because I want to be sure the bairn is here to stay and I want some more time alone with Ewan.”
“The bairn willnae be here for eight months or so, Fiona.”
“I ken it, but the moment I tell Ewan, I shall change in his eyes. I will no longer be just Fiona or just his wife, I will be the woman who carries his child. Weel, if Ewan is going to change in how he behaves toward me, I want to be able to ken for certain that the change is because of me alone and not because of this bairn.”
“Ah, I understand. I willnae tell a soul. Is the bairn why ye wish to make Ewan grovel then kick him?”
“Nay, I am just angry o’er how he treats me as if I will shatter at the slightest touch. Not that he has tested that conclusion, for he hasnae touched me in a week.” She nodded vigorously when Mab gasped. “Weel, enough is enough. He will cease this nonsense tonight e’en if I have to tie him to our bed.” Fiona suddenly had an image of Ewan tied to the bed, completely naked, completely at her mercy. “Oh, my, that is a rather intriguing thought.”
“Fiona!” Mab gasped in shock, but then she began to laugh. “Shameless lass. Ah, but ye are so good for our Ewan.”
“Do ye truly think so?” Fiona asked quietly, suddenly very serious.
“Och, aye. Ewan has e’er been a serious lad, but tragedy and heavy responsibilities have made him e’en more so. He is a mon who could all too
easily wake up one morn to find that he had protected his heart and hid his feelings so weel, he was now utterly alone. Ye willnae allow that to happen. Ye will keep him from slowly dying inside from wanting so much, but fearing to reach out for it. Just be patient. If ye could have seen how he acted when I told him Menzies had ye, ye would ken that he isnae so verra far out of your reach as ye might think. Now, I want to feel this bairn.”
Fiona stood still as Mab placed her hands over her stomach. The woman closed her eyes, but Fiona could tell by the expressions upon her face that Mab truly felt something. A brief frown crossed Mab’s face, and Fiona grew a little uneasy. When Mab finally opened her eyes and stepped back, Fiona watched her and fought back a twinge of anxiety.
“That wee devil doesnae want to give up his secrets,” Mab said.
“Oh. Tis a lad then.”
“I am nay sure. That is what I meant by his secrets. I can usually just feel if it is a lad or a lass, almost from the start, but your bairn obviously doesnae think ’tis any of my business. But he couldnae hide all the truth. Tis a healthy bairn. I dinnae think I have e’er felt such a strong sense of life.” Mab grimaced. “Listen to me babble. Now ye ken why so many call me Mad Mab or a witch.”
“Then they are fools. What I see is a true gift, a gift far more precious than a potion to clear up a lad’s spots or to grow hair upon some vain mon’s head.” Fiona could see the glint of hope and interest in Mab’s eyes.
“It frightens people, Fiona. My mother said ’twas naught but the devil’s work.”
“Nay, ’tis God’s gift. Ye have tried to ignore it, I suspect, when ye should have been learning how to use it. That is what we shall do. We will learn just how great this gift is and how it can be used. We will also learn how ye can use it to its fullest yet in a way that willnae stir dangerous fears and superstitions. Our Gilly’s clan, the Murrays, has many people born with such gifts and I spent enough time with them to learn how ye can protect yourself from those dangerous fears yet use this wondrous gift for the purpose God intended.” She laughed softly when Mab hugged her.
Highland Warrior Page 18
