by Mia Pride
The pounding returned and she flinched. “What is that awful sound?” she asked her son.
“Tis Jeoffrey! He is making a bed!” her son jumped up and started dancing excitedly.
“Why ever for?” she asked in utter confusion. What a strange thing for Jeoffrey to do.
“Tis for me,” Wee Jeoff shrugged as if the answer were that simple.
Before she could ask him further, her son bounded across the room, swung the door open excitedly and ran outside. She heard the banging stop and Wee Jeoffrey shouted excitedly, “Mama is awake!”
Within less than a heartbeat’s time, Jeoffrey was striding through the door with a huge grin on his strikingly handsome face, snow caking his boots. His nose was red from the winter chill outside and he breathed heavily, probably from the exertion of building a bed, but he looked positively alive as his eyes glittered. Could her heart beat any faster? Was she still dreaming? She had always hoped to see Jeoffrey look that way at her again. Would he still when she finally told him the truth? She was not so certain and that doubt made her hold back her elation.
She remembered everything he had whispered into her ear during those nights she had been consumed by fever. He had said he loved her, aye, but he also spoke of another woman named Treasa. Envy for a faceless woman niggled at her, and she also remembered him saying that he still wanted answers for her past behavior. She prayed he would give her the chance to tell him and that he could still forgive.
“Clarice,” Jeoffrey smiled as he sat down on the edge of the bed and took her hand. “How do you feel?”
She ran a hand through her hair self-consciously and grimaced at all the snags she felt. She must look a fright. “I feel awful, and must look it as well, though I am alive and therefore will not complain.”
“You look lovely, Clarice,” he reassured as he gripped her hand harder.
She wanted to argue but her strength was little and she preferred to use it on more important matters. “Wee Jeoff says you are building him a bed?”
“Och, aye,” Jeoffrey said breathlessly and looked over at her son with affection. “The lad has been sleeping on a pile of cushions and while he sleeps soundly, I felt it only right he has a bed of his own.”
She wasn’t sure what to say to that. Jeoffrey had sworn to send them away after she was done healing. She was certain in a few days she would be ready to move on. “I’m not certain why you think he requires a bed when we will be leaving here anon.”
Jeoffrey’s smile faltered and he licked his lips nervously. She could see his increased breathing as his chest rose and fell faster when her words registered.
Turning to Wee Jeoff, Jeoffrey asked him and Alastar, who was just outside, to fetch Morna or Peigi. It would be wise to have the healers check in on her, but she also knew he was looking for a way to occupy her son while they had a talk. Eager as always, her son smiled and shot out the house like an arrow determined to meet its target.
“I was a fool.”
She frowned at his blunt words but stayed silent.
“I would never have sent you and Wee Jeoff out with nowhere to go.” He shook his head and looked at her imploringly, but she could not help the scoff that escaped her lips.
“Aye, you would have. You were determined to do so, and yet I never blamed you. I hurt you terribly.”
“You tried to tell me and I would not let you,” he insisted. “I am willing to listen this time.”
“And what if tis not enough? Mayhap you should not finish making his bed until you know the whole truth.” She chewed her lower lip nervously. In truth, she had nowhere else to go, but she would find her way. She would not live off the charity of a man simply because he felt obligated. She had done that for far too long.
He sighed and shook his head. “I really do need to hear the truth, but either way, I have decided to let you both stay. I cannot in good conscience allow you to leave with nowhere to go.”
“And I am through with men protecting me out of obligation,” she huffed in frustration.
“Out of obligation?” he questioned. “Who else protected you out of obligation?” A frown marred his beautiful face and at the same time her heart rate sped up.
“Answering that would require me to start from the beginning and I am not certain we have the time for that at the moment. Tis quite complicated.” She had imagined this conversation in her mind for years, never actually believing she would see him again or get the chance to tell all. Now she was sitting up in his bed wearing naught but a destroyed night dress with a sheet clutched in her hand while her wild brown hair wrapped around her head like a nest. She certainly never looked so ridiculous in her many imaginings.
“I will make the time, Clarice.” He hopped off the bed to go over to the cauldron, where he carefully ladled something that smelled delicious into a clay bowl and walked back over to her. “Here. Eat some stew. You must be famished.”
Somehow, food had not even crossed her mind since she awoke but now that food was in front of her face, piping hot and sending tantalizing aromas up to her face, she had never been so hungry in her life.
“My thanks,” she murmured as she held the stew up to her lips and sipped carefully. She moaned at the incredible flavors of thyme and garlic mixed with carrots, celery, and the meat of a boar. “Tis wonderful,” she said through a mouthful of meat.
“I grew the vegetables here on the farm and killed the boar. Tis a fine life I have made here. I do not miss being under the cruel thumb of my father.” She saw hurt and anger flash in his eyes at the mention of his father. She suddenly remembered all the stories she had heard of Jeoffrey killing his father, but she did not wish to bring it up and upset him further.
“I understand,” she whispered before taking another sip of the gravy in her bowl.
“Do you?” he questioned with a quirked brow. “How so? My father never so much as spoke to you.”
She scoffed and almost spit out her stew. “That is where you are misinformed, Jeoffrey,” she said carefully, gauging his reaction to what she would say next. “He spoke to me often, usually in the form of threats. The last threat he ever spoke to me was after he learned of our agreement to wed. Apparently, the lowly daughter of a serf was not a good enough match for the heir to the High Throne of Ériu. He came to me one evening and said if I was not on the next boat out of Ériu, he would slit your throat before my eyes as your punishment for loving a serving lass, then slit mine as a punishment for disobeying.”
Looking up for the first time from her stew to Jeoffrey, she was shocked to see his face had gone white and his hands were balled into fists on his lap. “I am sorry, Jeoffrey. He made certain I was gone before I could even speak to you. I had to leave…to save your life.”
He opened his mouth, then shut it again. What was he thinking? Did he think her a fool and a liar? “What about Harrold?” he forced through clenched teeth. “That does not explain why he went with you. It appeared to all that you two had taken off into the night together.” She could hear years’ worth of resentment in his restrained voice, could see the clench of his jaw, and feel the tension in his body. He did not believe her.
“Harrold was my friend, Jeoffrey. Nothing more. He saw me run off into the woods crying, alone. He followed me to find out why I was so distraught. I told him of your father’s threats and commands. He refused to allow me to travel alone. He only meant to see me safely to the other coast, which was a three-day journey. We had to walk toward the sea for a few days. Once we found a boat traveling to Alba, he would accompany me across sea, help me get safely settled, and travel back to you. I knew your father would tell you lies about me, feeding you with his own hatred and I could not allow that. I made Harrold promise to tell you the truth. I hoped you could one day find me.” Clarice let her voice trail off as a tear trickled down her cheek at the memory of those painful days. Every step away from him had felt like her heart being torn into pieces so small, it could never be put back together again.
&nbs
p; “Harrold never came back,” he growled. She could tell he was still skeptical of her story. She did not blame him.
“Nay, he did not.”
“Are you going to tell me why? Why did my cousin decide to stay with my intended bride across the sea and never return if not for love?” He sounded calm, but she could detect the anger simmering just below the surface.
She took a deep breath, and then another. Her heart was beating wildly against her chest and panic began to take over. Her hands shook and she was forced to shove the bowl she still gripped back into Jeoffrey’s hands before its contents spilled all over her and the bedsheets. “He did not return to you because, just before we arrived in Alba, I discovered I was with child.”
“What?” Jeoffrey jumped off the bed and dropped the bowl. It shattered upon impact and the remaining stew splattered all over Jeoffrey’s boots, but he did not seem to care or notice as he hovered over her. “I knew you would do this! You lie! You and Harrold ran off together and he fathered your son! Did you tire of him? Did you hear the rumors that I had killed my father and fled to Alba? You did, did you not? You saw your chance to find me again and push your child on me!”
Stunned at his sudden rise of fury, she shook with fear and began to sob. Aye, she had heard that Jeoffrey was in Alba. She had heard he killed his father. It seemed the whole of Alba spoke of it. He was deemed a war hero and, aye, she and Harrold had discussed journeying to all the local tuatha in search of him, to reunite and tell him the truth of their disappearance and to introduce him to his son. However, their talk of that journey had been short-lived, as Harrold died soon after and any chance of traveling died along with him. She could not tell Jeoffrey this. He would call her a liar again. He would accuse her of scheming against him and her heart could not take it. “Nay! Tis not true, Jeoffrey!” she wailed desperately. “You must believe me!”
“Must I?” he shouted. “Tell me…Harrold stayed with you once you found out you were carrying my child. That’s what you wish me to believe?”
“Aye. Tis the truth.”
“Why? Why would he stay? What responsibility did he have to his cousin’s future wife and child? He could have come back and fetched me!”
“Nay he could not! He would have had to travel three days back to you, and then three days back to me again! It would have been almost a sennight before you reached me…and what would have become of me, alone with no shelter or food for so long? What about the babe? Were we to be left alone on the shore and pray we were not eaten by wild animals or should I have wandered into a strange village and hoped not to be forcibly taken by a man? Or, mayhap I should have boarded a ship alone and hoped nay man decided to take me forcibly there? And then what, once we landed in Alba? Was I to wander alone in a foreign land and pray to find a village to take me in? Think, Jeoffrey! Think! Nay! He came with me to protect your child! You are correct...only love would have made him stay. Love for you!”
“Nay. I cannot believe a man would give up his own opportunities at love, marriage, and a family simply to care for my own. Did he marry you when you arrived in Alba? Where did you settle?”
“We did not marry. We told the people of a small tuath called Caledonii that he was my husband and when Jeoffrey was born, he accepted him as his own. We lived in a small home with his brother Gregory and his wife. Tis why he stayed also. He knew he could help me settle safely with his brother. Do you not recall how Gregory had fled your father’s wrath years prior? Why else would I name my son after you, if you were not his father?”
She could see that Jeoffrey was faltering in his anger. The more she told, the less he could argue. She had an answer for any question he wished to throw at her. Still, she could also see he was extremely volatile at the moment and any wrong word would send his anger into a frenzy again.
“I know not why you would name the child after me. Mayhap you were not certain which of us was the father, so you chose my name.”
“Tis not possible,” Clarice shook her head and closed her eyes. They were getting to the part of the story she dreaded most, because she would be forced to tell the one dark secret of Harrold’s she had hoped to take with her to the grave. But for Jeoffrey to understand, it must be told.
“How is it not possible, Clarice?” His voice grew dangerous again and she flinched, but refused to give in.
Squaring her shoulders, she said, “I told you the truth. I have never been with another man. Jeoffrey is your child.”
“You lived with Harrold for four years as his wife and expect me to believe that the man never bed you? Do you take me for a fool, Clarice?” He was shouting in earnest now and she could not help the tremors running through her body. His anger frightened her, not because she was worried he would strike her or send her away, but because she may lose her last chance at ever reconciling with him.
“There is one reason a man would give up everything to protect a woman, pretend to marry her, yet never love her or try to bed her. But I wish you would simply believe me and not force me to say the words! Can you not just trust me, Jeoffrey? I assure you my story is genuine.” Clarice was not above begging. She would tell Harrold’s secret if forced to, but she would never forgive Jeoffrey for not being able to trust her word or the undying loyalty of his own cousin.
“I need to hear it, Clarice,” he softened as he sat down and grabbed her hand with a sigh. “May the gods help me, but when I look at you, I see the most desirable woman I have ever known. I can think of nay reason a man would not want to take you for his own. I cannot imagine living in a home with you for four years and never once taking you to my bed. By the gods, woman, I did not last a night in your bed before I was ready to take you. I had to harden my heart and say cruel things to prevent myself from losing control. So, aye. If there is a believable reason why my cousin never took you to bed, I need to hear it, for I cannot fathom it.”
She took a deep breath at his words. He was calm and sincere now. She could see the desire in his eyes and knew he was telling the truth. He wanted her, but did not yet trust her. She had to tell him the truth or else he would never accept Jeoffrey as his own son. She gripped his hand in hers and sighed. “Harrold never took me to wife or to bed because he was a man who did not prefer women.” She cocked her brow at him, hoping he would understand what she so subtly tried to convey.
His brows rose and his eyes grew wide. “Truly?” His voice rose in pitch and he cleared his throat. “I did not see that coming.”
She nodded and relaxed slightly. He seemed to believe her. “Aye. Have you ever seen him with a woman?”
He scrunched his face together as he thought and scratched his head. “Nay. I suppose not. I never thought about it, really. I always thought him a shy lad.”
She laughed. “Och, he was shy. But he also had nay further interest in me other than seeing me and your child safe. I swear it upon all the gods.” She wanted to confess that they had known of Jeoffrey’s arrival to Alba and their intentions of seeking him out before Harrold died, but his next question threw her off kilter and made her choke back a sob.
“So, Harrold is truly…gone?” Jeoffrey whispered gently.
“Aye,” she swallowed and turned away from Jeoffrey. “He was my greatest friend in this bleak world. I came home one day and he was…gone. I found him on the floor of our home. I still do not know what took him. Mayhap a bad heart?” She shrugged sadly. “Things got bad after that. His brother had been making advances on me for a while, and once his own ailing wife passed away, he tried to force himself on me. He said he would have me tried for murdering Harrold if I did not marry him.” All the tears she had been holding back finally broke through in an uncontrollable deluge. “He knew I could not pay the honor-price any Brehon would expect me to pay. He knew I would be given over as a slave. My only options were to marry him, become his slave…or run.”
“Och, Clarice,” Jeoffrey leaned forward to scoop her up in his arms and rocked her back and forth in a soothing motion. “Is he the man
who injured you?”
“Aye. I could not succumb to a fate as his wife, but I could not fight him. He knew my marriage with Harrold was different and he tried to break us apart for so long. I fear he had something to do with Harrold’s death.”
“I will not let him near you or Wee Jeoffrey ever again…our son,” he whispered and choked back a tear as his voice cracked.
“Aye, he is our son, Jeoffrey. I swear it.”
Gathering her to him even tighter, he whispered in her ear, “I know he is. I believe you. And I will protect you both. You will stay with me.”
“Jeoffrey,” she looked up at him with shining eyes and wanted to feel happiness, but the thought of another man only being with her out of duty was unbearable. “If you only wish us to stay so you can protect us, mayhap I can find somewhere else in the village to live. That way we are close, yet you do not need to—”
“Nay. I want you with me, Clarice. I want to start over. Do you want that, as well?”
She pursed her lips together and closed her eyes. Was this truly happening? She could not know what she had ever done to deserve this second chance at happiness with Jeoffrey, but she would not pass it up. “More than anything,” she murmured just before his lips came down on hers. She moaned into his mouth and melted into his arms. He felt like home.
A throat cleared in the room and they pulled away from each other breathlessly. “Tis good to see you well again,” Peigi came forward as if they were not still wrapped in each other’s embrace and put a hand on Clarice’s forehead. A large smile broke out across Peigi’s plump cheeks. “Perfect. We were very afraid we would lose you, my dear.”
“I see you two have come to terms,” Alastar drawled lazily as he leaned against the wall. “I am very glad to see you well again, Clarice. You had us all worried.”
Morna stood shyly in the corner with her arms folded, clearly uncomfortable with the scene that Clarice and Jeoffrey made sitting so close together in a bed. Her cheeks blushed as she tried to avert her gaze and Clarice couldn’t help but grow even fonder of sweet Morna. She was an innocent lass.
