“I will be fine, Fiona,” he said. “Get on your horse and let us be on our way. And pull up your gown. I can see your nipples.”
He nearly laughed when she blushed, yanked up her gown, and then glared at him before hurrying to her horse. It would have been better to have stayed locked in that emotional moment, used it to pull a few sweet words from her, but Ewan knew it was not the right time for that. He comforted himself with the knowledge that she did feel deeply for him. It had been there to see, clearly, in her tear-filled eyes. Later, when he was healed, he would try to find a way to pull those words from her. That look had given him hope, but he needed the words. It was his last clear thought, for Sigimor started to ride and Ewan lasted barely a minute before his pain sent him tumbling down into blackness.
Chapter 20
“Hello, Father.”
Ewan cautiously opened his eyes and looked at the small boy standing by his bed. The next thing he became aware of was that he lay on his stomach and his back was no longer the mass of fiery agony it had been. His memory of how he had gotten into his bed and who had done what to tend his back was very dim. Instinct told him it had been more than a few hours since he had swooned during the ride back to Scarglas.
“Hello, lad,” he said, his throat so dry it felt as if he had eaten sand.
“I am nay called just laddie now. I have a name.”
There was so much pride and joy in that statement, Ewan had to smile. “And what is your name?”
“Ciaran MacFingal or Ciaran Cameron. Sigimor and Grandsire keep arguing about that.”
“A fine name either way. Who gave it to ye?”
“My new mother. She e’en got the priest to christen me all proper. We wanted ye to be there but ye were still sick.”
“I have been sick, have I?”
Ciaran nodded. “For days and days. Mama and Mab made ye drink medicines and put muck all over your back.”
“Verra kind of them. Um, Ciaran, do ye think ye can get me something to drink?”
“I will do it.”
Ewan stared at his wife as she approached the bed with a tankard and sat down on the edge. She looked calm, but perhaps a little too calm. There was a lack of feeling in her touch as she slipped her arm beneath his head to help him hold it up as he drank the cool cider she offered him. There was no doubt about it; she was angry.
“How long was I ill?” he asked after he finished his drink and she rose from the bed.
“Three days,” she replied as she stood next to Ciaran. “I thought about waiting for ye to help name our son, and see him properly christened, but I couldnae abide the fact that he had no name for more than a day. And e’en that was a trial. Your father has told him that, when ye are weel, we shall have a proper ceremony and feast where he will be introduced, officially, to all his uncles and cousins and his name will be entered into The Book.”
“Ah, The Book.” He smiled at Ciaran. “A very important occasion. A very big book,” he murmured, thinking of the ledger where his father recorded all of his sons and their sons, their births, christenings, mothers’ names, and all other information he could gather. He had recorded his daughters, too, but they were only three amongst the multitude of boys. “I am pleased that ye have settled in, Ciaran. Ye arenae waiting for the ceremony to meet everyone, though, I hope.”
“Nay. I need to meet them one at a time, though,” the boy said in a very serious voice. “There are a lot of them and I dinnae want to forget their names. Tis verra important to ken a person’s name.”
“It certainly is.” Ewan became aware of a suddenly pressing need to relieve himself. “Ah, do any of my brothers happen to be close at hand? I could use their assistance.”
“Aye. I will get one,” said Ciaran even as he raced to the door and flung it open. “I need a brother here,” he bellowed. “My father has to piss!”
“Oh, my God,” muttered Ewan, torn between embarrassment and the urge to laugh as hard as Fiona was, although she was trying to hide it. “I guess he has settled in weel.”
“Och, aye,” she said in a choked voice. “O’er the last three days he has come to think that is what needing assistance means. Ah, I hear one of your brothers coming. I will go and get ye some food.”
“Nay gruel,” he called after her as she grabbed Ciaran by the hand and hurried away, passing a laughing Gregor on her way.
Ewan just glared at him as Gregor helped him tend to his personal needs. He was pleased that he did not feel as weak as he had feared he would. Soon, he would not need such assistance. As he sat on the edge of his bed, he found he was intensely curious about what had happened to make him lose three days.
“Ye were slightly fevered,” Gregor told him as he sat in a chair by the bed. “To keep ye from thrashing about and making your back bleed, we tied ye to the bed for two days. Fiona made ye some verra soft binding ropes.”
Despite his efforts not to, Ewan felt himself blush slightly, but stoutly ignored the glint of curiosity in Gregor’s eyes. “That was kind of her. And the third day?”
“Ye were sleeping off the rest of the potions she and Mab kept pouring down ye in an effort to make ye sleep soundly. And keep still. Ye did wake up once last night, but ye werenae verra coherent. Ye werenae seriously ill. Twas mostly the need to keep ye on your stomach until the wounds upon your back could begin to close.” Gregor peered at Ewan’s back. “They are looking verra good. I suspect ye willnae have to lie upon your stomach for more than a few days longer. They werenae deep enough for stitching, ye ken, although Fiona was upset that the woman had undoubtedly given ye a few more scars.”
“And I have seen that my son has settled in comfortably,” he said, then laughed as he thought of how the boy had bellowed out the door, embarrassment no longer dimming his amusement.
“Aye. Fiona and our father couldnae wait for ye to help name the lad. For once they werenae arguing, but in full agreement that it was a crime that had to be set right immediately.”
“He seems pleased with their choice.”
“He introduces himself to everyone he meets. And if ye call him lad or laddie, he quickly corrects ye. I think it will be a while before he allows such an informality. For that crime alone, that bitch deserved to die.”
“Aye, but I wish Fiona hadnae been the one to kill her. She has gotten a fair bit of blood on her hands since coming here.”
“Both times it was a matter of kill or be killed. I have seen no sign that she is troubled by having had to kill Helena. In truth, she didnae e’en have to rush off to empty her belly.”
“Nay, she didnae, did she.”
“She wanted that woman dead from the moment she saw ye hanging there at the cottage. I think she has wished she could kill her again a few times since then, especially as concerns her treatment of your son.”
“Our son,” Ewan whispered, suddenly aware of the meaning of the words Fiona had said. Acceptance. “He calls her his mother.”
Gregor nodded. “Aye, ye didnae need to worry about whether or not she would accept him. E’en when she first met him, she quickly hid her shock and was most kind and welcoming. Da is good with the lad, too. Tis odd, but watching him with Ciaran, I started to remember things and, weel, for all his faults, he has been a verra good father.”
“Ye didnae think he had been?”
“Ne’er gave it much thought once my mind was taken up with how odd he was. Still is, although much calmer, as if he is, weel, happy.”
Ewan nodded and glanced toward the door, his stomach grumbling. “Do ye think she will bring me gruel?”
“Only if she thinks it will soothe her anger at ye in some way. Ye better have some good explanation for nay telling her about the boy. She cannae decide if it was just a stupid monly thing, as she calls it, or if ye have insulted her by thinking she would be angry and take that out on the boy.”
“A stupid monly thing?” Ewan muttered.
“Aye.” Gregor grinned. “Seems Sigimor’s sister is fond of saying that an
d he has decided Fiona has picked up Ilsa’s bad habits. Fiona told him her Gilly often mutters about the same thing, that ’tis nay just Ilsa who is an intelligent woman.”
“She argues with Sigimor?” Ewan had to grin at the image of the small, delicate Fiona squaring off against the large Sigimor.
“Aye, and our father finds it verra amusing. He and Sigimor nip and bite as weel. The alliance ye wanted is firm, Ewan. Da has accepted these Camerons he cursed for so long.”
“That is good, but why are the Camerons still here?”
“Sigimor says that, after so many years of having the gates slammed shut as he approached, he is determined to come to ken all of us. Says we are nay the only ones pleased with gaining an alliance. He isnae at war with all of his neighbors, but they arenae exactly his allies, either. He and Da may argue, but ’tis because they like to. If all of the tales Sigimor tells are true, that clan is nearly as odd as this one.” Gregor looked toward the door as it opened and Fiona walked in carrying a tray of food. “Ah, there is hope, brother,” he whispered. “Tisnae gruel.”
Gregor helped Fiona set the food out on a small table by the bed, then left. She sat down in the chair by the bed, waiting to see if Ewan was going to need any help with his food. It pleased her to see that he was not very weak at all. Despite all of Mab’s assurances that neither the fever nor the wounds were very serious, she had been worried. Now she could just be angry.
As soon as he was done, she helped him lie back down on his stomach. When she started to move away, however, he caught her by the wrist and tugged her close. She sat down on the bed and looked at him, her anger soothed a little by the faintly contrite look he gave her.
“I wasnae worried that ye wouldnae accept the boy,” he said. “I was worried about how ye would feel about me having made him.”
She stared at him, thinking that he had gotten very good with words if he could so easily banish most of her anger with one sentence. “That was eight years ago, Ewan. I was but eleven or twelve. Wheesht, our Gilly hadnae come to Deilcladach yet and I was still being raised as just another brother.”
“I ken that now that I am thinking clearly. I wasnae thinking clearly back then. I havenae seen or heard from the woman since the day she betrayed me to Hugh Gray, and suddenly, I get a message that she gave me a son and he is at Old Robbie’s cottage. I am sure Gregor has told ye all about how we thought it was a trap, but I had to go to be sure. One look was all it took to ken that he was my son.”
“Tis all I needed.”
“Weel, that was a shock. Then, ah, Jesu, Fiona, to hear that she hadnae e’en named him or had him christened. People called him bastard.” He tightened his grip on her hand slightly when she lifted their joined hands to her mouth and kissed his knuckles. “He asked if, when he came to Scarglas, he could sleep inside.” He nodded when she cursed. “If she had just told me about him, I could have spared him all of that.”
“What is done is done. Ciaran is a verra resilient boy. There are wounds to his heart that may ne’er completely heal, but he grew as bold and saucy as any lad of seven should be, and so quickly once he was accepted, that I think he will be fine. But now I ken why he was so thrilled with the wee bed in the nursery. Helena treated her own child as if he were nay more than some stray dog. How can any mother do that?”
“I havenae got an answer to that, sweetling. I dinnae really have an answer to the question of why I didnae tell ye about him immediately. So many thoughts churned about in my head. I even recalled all the bitter arguments my father and his wives had over his bastards.”
“If ye bred a child with another woman whilst wed to me, ’twouldnae be an argument ye would need to fret o’er, but a battle, mayhap e’en a painfully slow gelding.”
He grinned and tugged her close so that he could lightly kiss her scowling mouth. Even the thought of him being unfaithful had obviously stirred her anger and that delighted him. Jealousy might not be the best of emotions, but it was usually a sign that a woman’s heart was engaged. When he was healed enough to make love to her again, they were going to have a very serious talk about how they felt about each other. It was time to stop guessing and fearing the answers. While he healed, he would have time to build up his courage, and some of her actions and reactions over the last few days had given him the hope he needed to do so.
“I was confused, Fiona. Nay more, nay less. I was bringing him home the day I was caught by Hugh and Helena.” He frowned slightly. “Does Ciaran ken what happened to his mother?”
“Aye, I told him.” She sighed. “I thought about telling him only some, or e’en lying, but in the end, I told him everything. This is a tale that will be told too often for him not to hear it, and I wished it to come from me first. He kens she tried to kill ye, and what else she did to ye. I but mentioned the whip and he kenned exactly what she had done. He also recognized what had put those marks upon your back.”
“Och, nay, she didnae—” He cursed when she nodded.
“He isnae badly scarred, so either he was good at hiding or running or there were some people at that keep who stopped her. He also had Mary, whom he loves, and by the sound of it, she loved him as weel. So, I told him that I killed Helena because she was trying to kill me. He didnae doubt that for a minute. He then seemed to simply put it all aside. He doesnae mention her at all.”
“Twas hard for ye, I ken it, but the truth was for the best. And mayhap he doesnae particularly care what happened to her.”
“She wasnae really a mother to him, was she?”
“Nay, she wasnae. But ye will be, aye? He already calls ye that.”
“His choice. I told him he could call me Fiona if he wished, or Mother, but that he was now our son.”
“Thank ye.”
“For what? He is just a little boy, a wounded little boy, and ye and I were naught to each other when ye made him. And oh, Ewan, he sees e’en the smallest thing ye do for him as such a gift, it fair to breaks my heart. I was so pleased to hear him yell out that door like a proper little boy, that I didnae even scold him for the words he used. The hardest thing to do will be to keep from spoiling him. That, and hugging him each time he gets that look in his eye, that uncertainty and fear. I think it will be a long time before he can fully accept that he is welcome here.” She yawned. “Pardon.”
Ewan slid across the bed a little, carefully turned onto his side, and tugged her down beside him. “Rest here.” He tucked her up in his arms, pressing her back against his chest.
“Your back,” she began to protest.
“I am nay lying on it. We have slept this way before and I havenae turned onto my back until the morning. Without those potions ye and Mab gave me, I suspect I would also feel it the minute I did turn onto my back and move ere I did any damage.”
That was true, she thought, even as she closed her eyes. She knew why she was tired and soon she would have to explain it to him. Too many people had begun to notice her very hearty appetite and the way she tended to rest in the afternoons. Talk would begin soon and she did not want him to learn through gossip that he was about to become a father—again.
“Helena was a verra beautiful woman,” she murmured.
“Her outside only. Seeing her again, I suffered a brief moment of utter embarrassment that I had ever touched her.”
“Ah, but if ye hadnae, Ciaran wouldnae be here.”
“True, and that would be a sorrow.” He kissed the top of her head. “There was one moment when her ugliness was revealed upon her face. I had wondered why God would wrap such vileness in such fair skin. I think lust had blinded me to that rot, but I excuse myself by telling myself I was a young mon.”
“Hmmm. Nay such a heedless one, though. She had to come to you.”
“Ah, true. Mayhap there was a small bit of wit left in my stupid monly head.”
She giggled sleepily. “Aye, mayhap.”
“I still havenae scolded ye for taking such risks,” he said, slipping his hand up her side to cup her br
east and smiling when she made a soft sound of contentment.
“Weel, ye can scold me in a few minutes.”
“Why wait a few minutes?”
“Because I will be asleep by then and nay have to listen to it.”
“Such an impertinent lass. Ye put yourself in danger, Fiona.”
“As ye would have done for me. And it wasnae a verra great danger. E’en ye ken that they would hesitate to just kill me. E’en if they had guessed who I really was, and the chances of that were verra slim, they wouldnae have killed me right away. All we needed was but a few minutes where all eyes were fixed upon something so that your men and Sigimor’s could get across that open space unseen. Ye may nay like it, but e’en ye have to admit that I was the perfect choice.”
He grimaced, reluctantly recognizing the truth of that. “Aye, ye were, and aye, I dinnae like it.”
“I fooled them, though, didnae I?”
“Aye, ye did, but if ye ere do anything that dangerous again, I will beat ye.”
“Ye may try.”
And he just might, she mused as she let the need for sleep wash over her. Once she told him about the child she carried, it would not take long for him to realize she had been with child during his rescue. So would Gregor and Sigimor. She was going to be lectured until her ears rang. As she placed her hand over his where it rested upon her breast, she decided it was a small price to pay to have him back at Scarglas, alive and complaining, his worst enemies dead and gone.
Ewan smiled as he felt her body grow lax with sleep. She cared for him. He had no doubt of that. It might take a little while to turn that into the love he needed, but he could see it happening now.
It might be time to have a talk with Gregor, he mused. It galled him to go to his younger brother for advice, but it was no secret that Gregor had a winning way with women while he did not. The time had come to woo his wife, to turn that caring she felt into love. He wanted her bound to him in body, heart, and mind, as he was bound to her. Gregor might be able to help him with his inability to speak the pretty, amorous words women seemed to like.
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