Love's Call (36 page)

Cera inclined her head. “I’m glad you want to stay.”

“I want to stay wherever Roduch is,” Avril admitted, cheeks crimson again.

“Well, I’m glad to hear that, too,” Cera said.

Fallon started to squall, and the duchess scooped him up, rocking him and whispering until he quieted.

“Even crying, he’s beautiful,” Avril said.

“Thanks,” Cera said, smiling again as she settled her son against her.

“What do you want, Lady Aimil?” Avril asked. “A boy or a girl?”

Aimil smiled, resting a hand on her tummy. “It doesn’t matter to me, but I’m sure Tristan would like a son.”

“How about a daughter, to grow up and marry Fallon?” Cera asked, winking.

They all laughed.

“That would be fine, too.” Aimil grinned.

Leargan’s hurtful threat danced into her mind as she listened to her friends’ conversation. She watched Cera stare at the babe in her arms, a warm smile curving her friend’s lips.

A little lad with dark hair and big brown eyes running into her open arms popped into her head. Her heart skipped and she frowned.

No
.

That would only make things worse, even if she wanted Leargan’s child.

He’d left without saying goodbye.

Not that she really expected him to reach out to her, but it hurt.

Dalunas was far away, and the journey could be dangerous.

What if something happened?

Wait. Forget it
.

She didn’t care, anyway.

Liar.

“Are you all right, Ansley?” Avril’s voice pulled her from her thoughts.

Ansley forced a smile. “Aye, thanks.”

“They will come home to us,” Avril said, a soft smile on her full mouth.

Ansley flushed. It was like the girl had read her mind. “Aye,” she muttered.

What else could she say?

Chapter Thirty-five

Ansley counted on her fingertips, sucking in a breath when she came to an undesirable conclusion.

No.

Had Leargan cursed her when he’d spoken of a possible child?

Or had he just
known
?

Well, there was no
possible
about it. Not even a
probable.
She hadn’t bled since the sevenday before she’d been sent to Greenwald.

Dizziness, queasiness, the sporadic inability to hold food down…or even being able to stand looking at it from time to time.

It all made sense.

Ansley was carrying Leargan’s child.

Denial hit hard and made her head reel. Her knees buckled and she landed hard on the edge of her bed, chest tight.

Ali whined and nudged her as she scooted closer from her spot on the middle of Ansley’s bed. The caress of her bondmate’s head was automatic as tears welled.

Pregnant…carrying
Leargan’s
child.

The man of her dreams.

Was she happy or sad?

He’d only been gone four days. She missed him so badly she ached. But it wasn’t like she’d actually talked to him when he was there, anyway.

Her father was going to kill him if he found out.

When
he found out.

Like Leargan had said, Ansley couldn’t hide the rounding of her belly for the whole of the pregnancy.

If he didn’t kill Leargan, Sir Murdoch would drag them in front a priest immediately.

She didn’t want that…did she? Was she really contemplating raising Leargan’s child without him?

Ansley closed her eyes, teeth sinking into her bottom lip.

What the hell was she going to do?

The day after the feast, her father and the king had summoned her—cornered her really—to Jorrin’s ledger room. Without preamble, her father had told her he supported her marriage to Leargan, and expected them to proceed without delay.

Anger had boiled over, and Ansley had done something she’d never done in her life—yelled at her father. She let him have it—all of it. Explained her hurt and shock that her father would meddle in her life when he’d known clearly how she’d felt about Leargan. She hadn’t even held her tongue in the presence of the king.

Sir Murdoch had taken her words in stride, crossing his arms over his broad chest and appraising her. Ansley had half expected his mouth to be hanging open in shock, but he hadn’t said much—neither had King Nathal.

Unfortunately, true to her father’s nature, he’d calmly repeated his wish she wed Leargan. That statement was only to be compounded by the fact King Nathal echoed the sentiment. Her father had even had the nerve to tell her it was what
she
wanted.

Ansley had glared at them both, ignoring the king’s
apology
for sending her to Greenwald under the guise of an official message.

King Nathal hadn’t apologized for
ordering
Leargan to marry her.

Her demand to know if she’d be forced was left unanswered by both oversized men. Ansley’s father had spoken his peace. Experience told when he did so, he rarely
ever
changed his mind. Sir Murdoch’s feelings on the matter wouldn’t differ, no matter how Ansley tried to sway him.

Now…it was different now.

There was a child on the way.

Laying her hand over her womb, she sucked in a breath, burying her other hand in Ali’s thick fur.

The child in her belly had been made in love, even if it was only one-sided. She would love Leargan for the rest of her life…

Tears scalded her cheeks, but Ansley ignored them, hugging her wolf to her side. Ali whined and leaned up, licking her face from ear to chin.

“Alllllli,” Ansley groaned but was able to give a small smile as she wiped her cheek dry.

She stood and took another deep breath, squaring her shoulders. Cera was expecting her in the Duchess Solar. She needed to pull herself together and pray her stomach remained settled.

Not only was one friend a new mother, the other was carrying a child. Cera and Aimil were intimately familiar with symptoms of pregnancy. If she lost her breakfast when either was in the room, Ansley was doomed.

She wasn’t ready to tell them.

Definitely didn’t want to hear one of Cera’s lectures. The duchess had long calmed in her ire about the scroll and Leargan’s dishonesty. She wanted Ansley to forgive Leargan.

Ali stayed close as they headed down the corridor to the Duchess Solar. Ansley’s emotions took turns shooting up and plummeting.

Her bond didn’t send any concrete thoughts, but through their magic, Ansley felt her love. Her wolf wrapped her in it like a warm blanket.

She appreciated her Ali’s silent support, and buried her hand in the she-wolf’s thick black fur as they walked.

A wave of nausea hit as soon as she stepped foot in the bright warm room. Ansley ran forward, clutching her stomach and covering her mouth with her free hand. Looked for something to throw up in.

“Here,” Cera said, tossing a small wooden bucket.

She caught it, righted it, and vomited twice. Ansley panted and slid into a seat as the duchess took the bucket away.

Thank the Blessed Spirit Cera was the only one in the room.

Ali whined, circling Ansley’s chair, but Trikser made a wuffing noise from the hearth, and the she-wolf headed over to Cera’s bondmate, lying down beside the white wolf.

Ansley thought-sent, admonishing Ali stay there. She asserted she was fine and wiped the moisture from her eyes, glancing up at Cera.

Her friend said nothing, but her gaze was keen. Cera handed her a linen handkerchief and a goblet of water.

“Thanks,” Ansley said, sipping water slowly. Her stomach didn’t roil or reject it.

Good, a start.

“How long are you going to let this continue?” Cera cocked her head to the side as she took a seat across from Ansley.

“What?”

Her friend gave her a long look, one brow raised. “The king and your father have been here for over a fortnight, Ansley. That would make you what…about a month—a month and a half at most—pregnant? You’re already sick almost daily. As soon as they get back, tell Leargan and be done with it. Marry the man you love, the father of your child.”

Ansley scowled. “No.” It was no use denying anything. Cera was much too observant.

“You can’t avoid things forever, Ans,” she said gently. “I know you’re hurt because he kept the scroll from you. And you have
every
right to be upset at the meddling king—I know I was—but it’s only a matter of time. Leargan has had
many
talks with your father, and Jorrin told me he’s made his intentions to
both
Sir Murdoch and the king very clear. He wants you.”

“He doesn’t want me; he’s following orders. And besides, he’s not even here now.
He
left.
He
volunteered to lead the men.”

“Ansley.” Cera crossed her arms over her chest.

Ansley winced. The duchess had seen right through her lame attempt at deflection. She wasn’t really upset that Leargan had led Tynan Mont’s way to prison. It was his job.

“You well know what duty is and you’d never fault him for it, so nice try. You can’t blame him for wanting to see that bastard punished, either. But remember, Leargan does
not
lie. If he said he wants you, he wants you. Let this go. Marry him. Be happy. We can even plan the wedding for the day of their return.”

Ansley shook her head vigorously.

Cera rolled her eyes. “Your fate is sealed now, anyway. Don’t you realize it? Neither the king, nor your father, is stupid. They’re both fathers as well. They
both
know what’s going on when a woman can’t hold any food and is apparently otherwise healthy. I think you risk Leargan’s wellbeing by not being honest. Everyone knows your father’s penchant for decorum equals his temper.”

Her temples throbbed, and she rubbed them.

Blessed Spirit, Cera’s right.

Leargan wasn’t a liar. But when he found out about their baby, he
would
insist on marrying her. It was even worse than before.

Duty. Obligation.

Ansley didn’t want him like that. She wanted him to want
her.
Needed him to
love
her. Her eyes smarted and she sighed.
No more tears
. “He told me he would take my child from me.”

“He would never do that to you,” Cera said evenly, not even phased by the serious threat. The duchess took a breath, leaning forward to take Ansley’s hand. “What do you know of Leargan’s childhood?”

“He was raised by King Nathal, at Castle Rowan, in Terraquist.”

“Right. But, what do you know of his parents?”

“Nothing,” Ansley said.

“King Nathal brought Leargan and several other orphaned boys back to Terraquist after the battle of North and South Ascova. The skirmish was quashed quickly, and the control of the Province was put back into Aimil’s family’s hands, as it should’ve always been. There were many deaths, including Leargan’s parents. His father was a farmer, not a warrior, and only wanted to see his family to safety. Unfortunately, he was struck down. Leargan’s mother ran with him in her arms, but didn’t get far. She shielded Leargan with her body, saved his life. When King Nathal found him, he was covered in her blood. He was barely four turns old, Ans.”

“How do you even know this?” Ansley whispered.

“Jorrin told me.”

“Why are you telling me?”

“I want you to know how important family is to Leargan. He lost his at such a young age. King Nathal raised him, but he’s never had a family—blood—of his own. He’ll want his child—
your
child—to have both parents.”

Ansley averted her gaze. She
hated
how much sense Cera was making. Ignored how her heart hurt for Leargan. Why hadn’t
he
ever told her about his parents?

“Leargan is hurting as much as you are,” Cera whispered.

“No, he isn’t. He doesn’t love me.”

“Has he told you he doesn’t love you?” Her friend’s gentle tone brought tears to Ansley’s eyes all over again.

“No.”

“I think he does love you. I also think the way he feels has everything to do with his
volunteering
to be away from you for a sevenday or two. He’s hurting, Ansley. I don’t have to be an empath to know it.”

“Then he could have told me instead of lying about the scroll.”

“When you confronted him, did he lie to you?” Cera asked.

She growled, meeting her friend’s gray eyes. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

Cera quirked a half-smile. “I love you both. You’re
both
miserable. It’s unnecessary. The moment they get back, tell him you love him, Ans. Please.” She squeezed Ansley’s hand. “Stress is something you don’t need. You risk the new life inside you. Do you want this baby?”

Ansley couldn’t find her voice, so she just nodded.

She wanted her baby—and his father—more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life.

“Good. But your baby will need his father.” Cera smiled softly.

She looked down as guilt rushed her. Even before learning about Leargan’s past, how could she even have contemplated keeping the man’s child from him?

It was
wrong.

Hurt over words he’d flung in anger would never justify it. Besides, Leargan had already tried to apologize for what he’d said, the day her father and the king had arrived in Greenwald.

Cera was right, about everything, and Ansley
hated
that.

“Is your stubbornness worth life-long unhappiness?” Cera’s voice was just above a whisper. “I know you too well. Even if you left tomorrow and never came back, you’ll always love him.”

Ansley sighed.

What can I say?

“Think about your child,” Cera urged. “Would it be fair to keep him from Leargan? He is a wonderful man and will be a fantastic father.”

She winced, feeling another rush of guilt. “When did you get so wise?”

Cera laughed and rubbed her shoulder. “I don’t know about being wise. But I love Jorrin and Fallon more than I ever thought possible. I can’t imagine my life without either of them. I think about my parents and sister all the time, but Jorrin and Fallon are my
life
.”

“What am I supposed to do? Walk up to him and shout
I love you
? I haven’t
really
spoken to him since
before
my father arrived.”