Highland Promise (23 page)

Bethia became acutely aware of how uncomfortable she was. She wanted her night rail changed. She also needed to relieve herself. Casting an embarrassed look at Eric, she knew she could not let him take care of such personal needs, even if he had been doing so while she had been ill. Bethia also had a need to speak to Maldie. She was terrified of what four days of fever could have done to the child she carried.

“Is Maldie near at hand?” she asked.

Guessing what she wanted, Eric smiled. “Shy, Bethia? While ye have been so ill, I, your wondrous husband, have—”

“If ye are about to tell me how often ye infringed upon my privacy, I should think again,” she said, scowling at him. “I appreciate your care,” she added hastily, “but I really dinnae want to learn all ye did whilst I was insensible.”

He laughed and touched a kiss to her fever-dried lips. “I will fetch Maldie and Grizel.”

By the time Maldie and Grizel arrived, Bethia was nearly frantic. She did not think she had lost the child, but she could not feel it either. The moment the door shut behind the women and no Eric followed them in, she began to try to sit up.

“Maldie,” she said, grasping the woman’s hand tightly when she reached the side of the bed. “What about the bairn?”

“Ah, so that is why ye are so upset and afraid.” Maldie held on to Bethia and eased her into the chair by the bed so that Grizel could change the bed linen. “Ye still carry the child. The few times I could do so without Eric seeing me, I felt for the bairn and felt movement. Aye, and a good strong movement just this morning.”

“Thank God,” Bethia said as Maldie helped her move to the chamber pot to relieve
herself. “I was so afraid. He is obviously just being a quiet lad now.”

“Since ye can feel the bairn move and I could feel it, ye havenae much time left before Eric does too.”

Bethia was unable to reply as Maldie and Grizel took off her night rail, washed her down, and tugged on a clean one. By the time they got her settled back into her clean bed, she was almost too exhausted to swallow the broth Maldie forced into her. The wound and four days of fever had badly sapped her strength. Since their ministrations had caused her shoulder to throb, Bethia reluctantly agreed to drink Maldie’s rather sour potion. It would ease her pain and help her sleep. Bethia knew that was important now, but decided that this was the last time she would take it. She was not sure what it might do to her child.

“Rest, lass,” Maldie said as Grizel left with the dirty linen. “That is what will make ye stronger. Strong enough to tell Eric he is to be a father.”

Bethia smiled weakly. “Aye, I will have to do it verra soon. I was just hoping I would ken better how he felt about me ere I told him.”

“That mon has sat here day and night, barely eating and taking a rest only when his brothers forced him to. Now, I cannae say that he loves you, for I cannae see into his heart, and e’en though I am his sister, he hasnae confided in me. But I swear to you, it wasnae simply duty that held him in that chair. Aye, that I will swear to.”

“It will have to be enough.”

Maldie’s smile held a wealth of sympathy and understanding. “’Tis hard when ye love the fool so, but mayhap ’tis time to take a chance. Trust me in this, and Gisele will tell ye the same, sometimes men can be bigger cowards than we are when it comes to speaking of what is in their hearts.”

“Ah, Balfour and Nigel were slow to confess their feelings, were they?”

“Painfully slow. And men are sometimes verra slow to e’en see how they feel. Ah, I hear the thud of your husband’s big feet,” Maldie said even as the door opened and Eric walked in.

“Big feet?” he muttered, sending Maldie an injured look.

“Actually, I have always thought he had verra nice-looking feet,” Bethia said; then she blushed when she realized what she had just confessed.

Eric grinned and kissed her cheek. “Thank ye, my heart.”

“Weel, this is all too revolting for me to witness. I will return in one hour, Eric, and ye will then leave and go to bed. Ye need rest as much as Bethia does,” Maldie ordered even as she left the room.

“Once upon a time,” Eric said as he sat in the chair and took Bethia’s hand in his, “my brother Balfour was the laird here.” He smiled when Bethia giggled sleepily. “Maldie poured one of her potions down ye, did she?”

“Aye. My shoulder did ache some after they had moved me about and changed my night rail. I dinnae like the way it makes me sleep whether I wish to or nay,” Bethia complained.

“This time it will do ye good to rest. I ken what ye mean though. I have had to swallow that poison a time or two, and just as ye start to go to sleep, ye feel quite helpless, for ye ken that ye cannae stop yourself.” Eric brushed a kiss over Bethia’s knuckles. “I feared we would lose you.”

“Has James been troubled by this?”

“Some. He is too young to ken the danger ye were in, but he sensed that something was wrong. I only brought him in to see ye once, just to show him that I spoke the truth when I said ye were ill and had to stay abed. Later, when ye have rested for a while, I will bring him in to see that ye are getting better.”

Even though Bethia knew she would lose the battle in a few minutes, she fought to keep her eyes open. “Ye can ne’er tell what a child that young sees and understands. They cannae tell ye, can they?”

“Grizel has stayed close to him. In truth, he rather clings to her.”

“Ah, the poor lad. He has been frightened then. Mayhap, in some small way, he kenned his parents’ illness and how that led to them going away. Or e’en how it led to him being taken from his nursemaid.”

“Sleep, lass. As I told ye, I will bring the lad to see ye so that ye can soothe his fears as soon as ye have rested. Ye will need your strength to do that.”

“I ken it. One good sleep should be enough. I just want to be able to smile at him so that he kens I am getting better. ’Twill do, I think.”

Eric reached out to trace the delicate lines of Bethia’s face, which were made even finer due to her illness. He smiled faintly when he realized that she had fallen asleep. “Aye, ’twill do. It was enough for me.”

“When are ye going to tell her?”

Eric started, hastily made sure that his abrupt movement had not disturbed Bethia, then glared across the bed at his brother Balfour. “Ye didnae knock.”

“I didnae feel there was much chance that I would be interrupting anything.” He crossed his arms over his broad chest. “I was right. Ye were talking about the lad. So I ask again: When do ye plan to tell her?”

“Tell her what?” Eric could see by Balfour’s mildly disgusted look that he was not fooling the man at all.

“Mayhap that ye are sick with love for her?”

“I am nay sure sick is the word I would have chosen. Blind, for a while, aye.”

“And now just a wee bit terrified,” Balfour drawled.

“Recognize the symptoms, do ye?”

“Ye ken that I do, and Nigel is no stranger to them either. Now, ye were always the smartest. Dinnae prove us wrong for thinking so. Tell her.”

“Mayhap I but wait for some hint that she would welcome such feelings.”

Balfour shook his head. “She let ye seduce her. There is your hint.” He held up his hand when Eric started to speak. “Aye, I ken that ye have been able to seduce a lass with little more than a smile since ye were nay more than a lust-hungry lad, but this lass isnae one of those foolish girls. For her to bed down with ye, she had to see more than your bonny face. I think ye ken that.”

“I do, but then I fear I am wrong. Nay, no more advice. I will tell her. William is dead and Dubhlinn is mine. Our troubles have been cleared away. Howbeit, please allow me to pick my time and place.”

“And some time to work your courage up.”

“That too.” Eric met Balfour’s grin with one of his own. “’Tis strange how such a wee lass can make a grown knight tremble in his boots.”

“Ah, weel, take comfort in the knowledge that ye arenae the first and ye certainly willnae be the last.”

Bethia waited until the door had shut behind Eric, then she cautiously got out of bed. Nothing happened. She felt no dizziness, her stomach did no more than loudly announce its emptiness, and she did not suddenly break out into a chilling sweat. In the week since they had settled in at Dubhlinn, she had not been sick once. For a moment, she fought the urge to dance around their huge bedchamber in a foolish expression of delight. Instead, she greeted Grizel’s entry with such a beaming smile, the woman eyed her with suspicion.

“Ye are in verra fine spirits,” Grizel said as she set down the large bowl of heated water she had brought up. “What are ye up to?”

“Four months,” Bethia replied, grinning when Grizel looked confused for a moment, then rolled her eyes as Bethia moved to wash up and clean her teeth.

“Ah,” Grizel muttered as she changed the linen on the bed. “Ye are keeping a close count, are ye?”

“Of course, although I think I may be a wee bit off, for I havenae really begun to show much yet.”

“When it starts, it will happen verra fast.”

“I ken it. Also four months is when I thought it would be safe.”

“Safe?”

“Aye. I wanted to be verra sure and, I think, verra certain that I could carry the child, nay lose it. Weel, for nearly a fortnight now, I havenae been troubled with that sickness, and I can feel the movement within me so strongly now, I canne doubt the life there.” She giggled when Grizel hurried over and put her hands on her stomach. “Soon James will have someone he can play with.” Thinking of all the children residing within the walls of Dubhlinn, Bethia added, “Weel, someone of his own blood.”

Grizel laughed. “This keep fair to squirms with bairns, doesnae it? So now ye will tell the laird?”

“Tonight.” Bethia’s smile wavered as she suddenly felt nervous. “I think he will be pleased.” Bethia’s eyes widened when Grizel muttered some very colorful curses and glared at her. “Do ye really think ye ought to speak to the laird’s wife that way?”

“Nay, but ye were ne’er good at reminding me of my place. Dinnae think either of us truly kens what that is.” She exchanged a brief grin with Bethia, then quickly became stern again. “Ye do that bonny mon an unkindness with your thoughts, lass. Aye, ye do. After what happened at court, how can ye keep doubting the mon?”

“Ye mean the way all those women, many of them his past lovers, fairly flung themselves at his feet should make me feel safe and sure?”

“Nay, but the fact that your bonny, wee mon ne’er once looked their way should.”

“He isnae wee,” was all Bethia could think to say.

“Lass, only the bairns look wee to one as tiny as ye are.” She ignored Bethia’s scowl. “Your mon had more temptation set afore him in those few weeks than most men see in a lifetime, yet he ne’er turned from your side.”

“I ken it. I should be pleased. Eric is a verra honorable mon who holds true to his vows,” she said as she sat down on the bed; then she saw the look on Grizel’s face. It was not a friendly one. “I have said something wrong again?”

“Whye’er would ye think that?”

The sharp sarcasm in Grizel’s voice made Bethia wince. “Because ye have a certain look upon your face.”

“What look?”

“Like ye want to bang your head against something hard.”

“Talking to ye makes me feel that way sometimes. And ’twould be your head I would be banging against something hard.”

“Grizel, have ye taken a good look at my husband?” It annoyed Bethia that no one seemed to understand or sympathize with the uncertainties that plagued her.

“Aye, he is one of the bonniest men I have e’er seen. Just looking at him can make a lass’s heart flutter.”

“Exactly. Now look at me.”

Grizel pulled Bethia to her feet and started to help her get dressed. “Ye are bonny.”

“Ye are my friend. Ye may not see me as others do. My eyes dinnae match, my hair is neither red nor brown, and I am so short and thin, it looks as if I forgot to finish my growing.”

“’Tis obviously enough to stir the laird’s blood or ye wouldnae be with child now, would ye?” Grizel grinned briefly at Bethia’s deep blush. “Lass, I ken ye willnae like to hear this, but I think ye have had your eyes opened a wee bit in these last few months. Ye have let your parents and sister convince ye that ye arenae worth much. I am nay saying they did it a-purpose, but ’tis what they accomplished. ’Tis past time ye ceased to see yourself through their eyes, for ye ken now that they werenae seeing clearly. Your mon isnae seeing ye as they did. Nay, that bonny mon looks at you and sees a lass he is sore eager to roll about in the heather with.”

“He does seem to want to do that a lot.” She smiled, then sighed, when Grizel started giggling so hard that she had to sit down on the bed. “I do ken that, weel, something wasnae right in the way my family treated me. They were wrong to cast me aside, to treat me as little more than Sorcha’s shadow and a poor one at that. But that doesnae mean I am a beautiful woman. It just means that I am nay as bad as they let me think I was.”

“Lass, ye are more beautiful than Sorcha e’er was or e’er could be. Nay”—Grizel held up her hand to stop Bethia’s protest—“I dinnae mean in face or form, though there is naught wrong with the ones ye have. I mean in your heart. No one followed the beautiful Sorcha when she left Dunnbea, did they? But near to two dozen couldnae pack fast enough to follow you. Bowen and my Peter were settled comfortably at Dunnbea yet they have dragged their families here to be with you. If Wallace wasnae going to be laird of Dunnbea, he would have come here too, although, in truth, he is here more often than not. For all of her beauty, Sorcha ne’er stirred that kind of loyalty.”

“But people loved her.”

“They loved what they saw, but aside from Robert, who was much akin to her and your fool parents, name me one person who kenned her weel who expressed any love or loyalty for her. Ye cannae, can ye? And dinnae name yourself.”

Bethia tried, but could not, and that saddened her. “I dinnae think that it was all her fault,” was all she could say.

“Nay, she was raised to be nay more than a beautiful woman. Your parents cherished her outside, but nay nurtured her inside. No one e’er taught her how to love or care for anyone but herself.”

“I think she loved Robert. Aye, and James.”

“As much as she was able, aye. And think on this: Who did Sorcha call out to when she finally realized that her son was in danger? Nay her parents, as one would think she would, nor any of those fine, strong men so captivated by her beauty. Nay, she sent for you. Sorcha kenned that you—the one she and your parents tossed aside—were the one who could protect and care for her son. In the end she acknowledged your worth. Can ye nay see that your mon does too?”

“Ye are making me want to cry.”

“Lass, ye are with child. Near anything could make ye want to cry.” They exchanged a brief grin.

“So ye think my husband may care for me.”

“I dinnae think anything I can say will truly make ye believe it, for ye have believed yourself near worthless for too long. But I believe he does. The mon cannae keep his hands off of you. Aye, and dinnae forget how he was when ye were wounded and like to die. That tells ye something. He cares for ye a lot, lass. So when ye tell him about the bairn, I think ye should tell him how ye feel about him. Tell him how much ye love him.” Grizel stood up and, grabbing Bethia’s hairbrush, started to fix her lady’s hair. “The way he replies could end all of your uncertainties.”

“’Tisnae easy to hand a mon your heart when ye are nay sure he wants it or is of a mind to make ye an equal trade.” Bethia sighed. “I fear how I will feel if I tell him how much I love him and he says little more than thank ye.”

“I think he will say a great deal more than that and all the words it would do ye good to hear, but ’tis your choice.”

Bethia was still considering all Grizel had said when, after breaking her fast alone in the great hall, she went in search of her husband. Fear and indecision knotted her insides, but that began to annoy her. She did not like to be such a coward.

She saw Bowen near the stables mending a harness, and she walked toward him. “Have ye seen Eric?” she asked.

“He is in the village again. There is a lot that needs repairing,” Bowen answered with a shake of his head. “Those fools did verra little to care for the lands they were so eager to cling to.”

“Aye. After a little wariness, the people seem pleased to have a new laird.”

“They ken he is a good mon.” Bowen glanced at Bethia’s middle. “When are ye going to tell him about the bairn?”

“Ye ken?” Bethia gaped at her friend in utter surprise.

“Lass, I come from a verra large family and I have five bairns of my own. Ye have the look.”

“Eric hasnae seen it.”

“Weel, I think ye are verra good at hiding a lot from the lad.”

She sighed. “He is such a bonny mon.”

Bowen laughed and nodded. “And that sore troubles ye, doesnae it?”

“A wee bit. Do ye think he cares for me, Bowen?” she asked abruptly and blushed beneath his look of disgust.

“Ye can be such a foolish wee lass. He wed ye.”

“Ye had a sword at his throat.”

“I took it away ere he said the vows.” He nodded at her look of surprise. “I didnae
want ye bound to a mon who would hurt ye. I asked him if he really wished ye for his wife and he said aye. I gave him the chance to run. He stayed.”

Bethia was still wondering over that when Eric returned from the village. He told her all about his plans as they went to the nursery to visit James. She realized that he did not hesitate to ask her opinion and truly listened when she gave it. Bethia realized that he had always truly listened to her, even argued with her as if he considered her an equal. Accustomed to such treatment from Bowen, Peter and Wallace, she had not really noticed, but Eric was no mere man-at-arms or childhood friend and cousin. Eric was born and bred to be a laird. For him to treat her so was a surprise.

It took only a moment of watching Eric play with James for her to lose the last of her concerns about how he would feel about the baby. Eric loved children; he treated James as if the child was his own. She had seen that from the beginning, but had let her own doubts about herself make her forget. The news about their child would undoubtedly please Eric, and she was sure that he would care little if she bore him a son or a daughter. Or even, she thought with a warmth that spread throughout her body, if the child was bonny.

Her eyes now opened, Bethia watched Eric for the rest of the day. She noticed how often he touched her, as if he could not be within reach of her without doing so. He sought her out several times to talk over some plan he had. She watched how the children followed him, how every man and woman with a problem felt free to come to him. No matter how hard she looked, she saw no hint of discontent in her husband.

By the end of the day, Bethia felt both stupid and ashamed. She cursed herself for a fool and worse as she prepared for bed. Just as her parents and so many others had done, she had seen only Eric’s beauty, had let that taint her every thought and feeling, had let it feed her doubts and fears. The men who talked to him about the defense of the keep were not doing so because he was bonny. The villagers who sought him out to discuss repairs and trade were not doing so because he was bonny. The children who skipped after him, or came to him with their hurts, probably would do so if he was covered in warts and had three eyes. They saw what her heart had always seen, but unlike her, they did not let their minds become clouded with his fair looks.

Sir Eric Murray was a very good man. His beauty went to the bone. That was why she loved him. That was why the diverse group now living at Dubhlinn all loved and respected him. Eric might not love her as she did him, but he liked and trusted her. It was far more than her parents had ever given her. Caught up in her own doubts, she had not completely returned the gift. She suspected he might even truly care for her. Bethia had wondered about it when she had been wounded and he had cared for her so well, but again, she had let her own lack of confidence smother that hope. If any man deserved to be loved, Eric did, and Bethia decided it was past time for him to know how his own wife felt.

When Eric entered their bedchamber, Bethia watched him prepare for bed. She smiled faintly as he washed, stripped off his clothes, and sprawled on his back on the bed, his hands crossed behind his head. If Eric had a fault, it was his complete lack of modesty. Still dressed in her thin linen shift, she sat beside him on the bed, watching him as she brushed her hair. As always, the sight of his lean body made her blood warm, but she struggled to subdue her heedless desires. They needed to talk.

“Ye are staring at me,” Eric said, clenching his hands against the urge to tangle
them in her soft, beautiful hair.

“Weel, mayhap I am nay used to having so much naked mon in my bed,” she drawled.

He grinned briefly, then grew serious again. “Ye have been in an odd mood all day.”

“I have?”

“Aye, ye have. Ye have been staring at me all day, watching me as if ye thought I might disappear on the wind.”

Although Bethia had hoped Eric would not notice, she saw no reason to deny it. “Aye. In truth, I would say that I have been looking at you, truly looking. I havenae really done that, have I? For some reason, I couldnae get much past your bonny face and fine body.”

Eric turned on his side and gave in to his need to touch her, idly trailing his fingers up and down her thigh. The way she sat cross-legged with her thin shift riding high up on her beautiful legs told him that the intensity of her modesty had waned a little, and he was pleased. It also appeared that she was about to be honest concerning at least some of her feelings, and he felt himself tense. For the first time in his life, he was unsure about a woman. Although he liked the fact that Bethia could puzzle him, he ached to have at least some knowledge of what she felt for him beside passion. She held his heart in her small hands and he felt vulnerable. It was a new feeling for him and one he did not really like.

“And what were ye looking for?” he asked.