“He’ll be back.” Moira tried to convince her, but even she was not so sure. “Maybe ye should have told him about the baby.”
Aislinn shook her head. “I would not have him stay because of the heir I can give him.” She was well aware that she was being stubborn, but she was deeply hurt that he hadn’t given her a chance to explain. “You can’t have a marriage if only one wishes to try at it.”
Chapter 59
As time passed, Aislinn pretended to continue on as though nothing had changed when, in truth, everything had. She sat down at her desk and produced her journal. She had relied on her writing more and more for pouring out her fears. “Again I was not well. It seems that the more I try to eat, the worse I feel. Just the sight of food makes my stomach churn. I know that it is only the pregnancy. I am nearing my fourth month and I pray that I will begin to feel better. Cahir, the physician, has given me some suggestions that might help, but so far not a one has done the trick. I am trying to be civil to Cahir in hopes that he will not see me as a threat to his position. This is not an easy task. I would rather have Neala at my side, but she has no wish to come to the castle. Anyway Cahir would surely not make her welcomed. I have not been to see her this week for I spent a lot of my day in bed.
“I feel so drained and so…so alone. Dougray has not returned and I find that I miss him so very much.”
“Milady?” Moira had been calling Aislinn for some time now and she still had not acknowledged her. “Are ye all right?” She walked over to where Aislinn was resting her head on her writing table, the quill still poised in her hand. “Milady? A.J.?”
Her head popped up and she looked at Moira with a baffled expression on her face. For a moment, she didn’t know where she was. She glanced at the journal she had been writing in. Had she fallen asleep? She looked up at Moira again.
“It’s nearly time for the evening meal.” Moira answered the unasked question.
“But I came in here after breakfast.”
Moira nodded. “I know, milady, that is why I became so worried. Ye didn’t answer when I knocked. Teige knew that ye didn’t leave the keep and made me come in to check on ye. I hope ye are not angry. We were just worried.”
Aislinn put down the quill. “No, I am not angry. I am a little amazed that I slept so soundly and for so long. It’s strange.” She rubbed her face trying to wake up. “I’ve slept the day away and yet I still feel exhausted.”
“Ye should eat something. Maybe it will help.”
“I can’t. I don’t feel very well. I think I will go to bed, and hopefully I will feel better in the morning.” She stood. Seeing how worried Moira looked, she added, “I promise I will eat a big breakfast.”
“As ye wish, milady. I will turn down the bed for ye. Ye do look tired. This wee one ye carry is draining ye.”
Once Aislinn had undressed, she climbed beneath the warm blankets. “Will ye send Declan to me? I feel that I have been neglecting him.”
“For a small lad, he seems to understand but I will bring him to ye straight away. Then ye must rest.”
Teige was waiting for Moira and stopped her before she could go down the stairs. “And?”
“She is not well, Teige. It is like the babe she carries is poisoning her. She cannot keep what she eats down and she is weakening. This cannot be the way it should be, can it?” She looked to Teige with her wide blue eyes and hoped that he would give her an answer that would put her at ease.
“I have heard that some women have the sickness during their full confinement.”
“She is so thin. She cannot possibly endure such a duration.” She placed her small hand on Teige’s arm, again looking up at him with her trusting eyes. “Will ye not go to Neala and ask her for some herbs? She may know of something that will help.”
Moira’s touch had distracted him and he could only trust himself to nod his head in response.
“Thank ye, Teige.”
Dermot and Cormac stared at Teige like he was daft. “Ye are going to see the old woman…by yerself?” Dermot was not at all sure if Teige was being serious. “She’s liable to turn ye into something dreadful.”
“A.J. goes to see her all the time. Neala seems harmless enough and she has taken a liking to milady. She’s just an old woman that knows the Druid ways.”
Cormac shook his head. “Harmless ye may call it now, but if ye anger her, she may act first and ask questions later. I will go with ye, my friend. Dermot can stand by to watch over milady.”
“Aye. I will stay here.” Dermot was all too glad to stay behind.
Neala looked to where the two men were cautiously making their way.
She fought the urge not to laugh out loud, only because she feared her mirth might end up costing her dearly. The two men were skittish enough to draw their broadswords at the slightest noise.
“Old woman…Neala.” Teige cleared his throat. “We come to….”
She gave them a knowing eye. “I have no problem discerning the reason. The spirals have been interrupted and now all is nah well. Something has altered the way it should have been. It may be too late for some, but not for others.” She handed Teige the small pouch. “These herbs will settle her stomach, but I do not think it will last.” She looked away but not before Cormac and Teige saw the deep sadness that was evident there.
“Do ye fear that milady will perish?” Teige would not leave without knowing what the old woman thought.
“That I do not know. It is unclear to where her destiny lies. Be gone now. Pray to yer God and hope he has pity on her.” She waved her hand at them in dismissal. “Be watchful of milady.”
Cormac pulled at his friend’s sleeve, making him come with him. “Ye heard her. She is finished talking to us. Do ye wish to anger her?”
“Nay, but what did she mean that someone has altered the way it should be? Is milady in danger?”
“I do not know, Teige, but we will be extra careful with this warning she gives us.”
Chapter 60
Fiona paced her room that was situated in the north tower. She was heavily guarded with no chance of freedom. She had no contact with the outside world except for when someone would bring her a meal. She longed to feel the breeze blowing through her hair, feel the sun warm on her face, or just to be able to walk through the glen among the flowers. It was mid-October now and soon the weather would be turning cooler. She feared that she wouldn’t have the chance to see another season change.
With only time on her hands, she was able to reflect on what she had done. She had made a terrible mistake by letting herself be governed by her jealousy. She had not realized until now what she could have had with Cormac, but it was all gone with no chance to make amends.
Dougray had not been to see her, and now that she had time to go over every detail that had led her to this end, she realized she could not blame him. She had been so very foolish to think that she could hold on to something that wasn’t hers, and even a bigger fool for not seeing what she had already possessed.
“Cormac.” She closed her eyes trying to block out the tormented expression she had seen on his face, when he knew for certain she had betrayed him. If only she could take it back, take it all back….
She heard the door open and she turned with hope in her eyes, only to have it extinguished. “What do ye want?”
“Now, dear lass, is this anyway to greet me?” Abbot Kirwan waved for the guard to leave them. “I have come here to see if ye want to repent yer ways.” She chuckled, but her cold stare was enough to let him know she was not amused. “I am not and will never be of yer faith, old man, so stop wasting yer breath.”
“Ye would think that ye would be humbling yerself now that ye know yer fate has been sealed.”
“I bow to no one, especially not to a man who believes the clothes he wears makes him more divine than the god he believes in.”
Kirwan’s features hardened and his eyes bore into hers. “Yer soul will be cast to the fiery depths of hell for yer blasph
emous ways.”
“Ye should be rejoicing for ye will not be alone in yer confinement then.”
The abbot raised his hand as if to strike her, but with great resolve he managed to back away. “Ye are a fool of a woman, Fiona. Ye strove too high and now look where ye landed: alone in a lonely room to live out yer days.” He smiled when she saw her flinch. Perhaps she had been too dense to realize how dire her situation had become. “Ye would be wise to accept the one God into yer heart, and milord may be lenient in his sentencing.”
“Be it the old ways or yers, milord had never cared one way or the other what religion I practiced. So Kirwan, ye may take yer preaching elsewhere.
I would sooner die in this room than to convert to yer way of thinking.” Again he smiled, a slow smile that seemed to say so much more. “Be very careful what ye wish for, Fiona. Ye may be granted the privilege ye seek.”
Since Fiona did not have information on who was ultimately responsible for Aislinn’s kidnapping and for the other deceptions, Dougray was forced to look elsewhere for the knowledge. It was like the culprits were invisible, causing havoc wherever they wished. There had to be backing from someone higher up.
A visit to his grandfather, who was presently at his estate in the Pale, seemed the best place to start. Though it irritated him to no end to have to ask the man for help, he had seen no other choice. His grandfather had ears in places that he did not.
After six weeks with no further clues, Dougray headed home. All the time away, his thoughts kept returning to the dark-eyed woman he had left behind. Despite the fact that he had felt betrayed, he couldn’t put her from his mind. He missed her laughter, their conversation and, as ridiculous as it might seem, he even missed their arguing.
He wanted to forgive her for the deceit, but his pride was there to choke the response from his lips. He knew that he had no right to expect her to live a life of a woman used to this time and place, for he did not enter this marriage without the knowledge of where she had come from. He could have easily refused the union, but he hadn’t. No, he had taken the steps to ensure it. He had only himself to blame for his disappointments.
He had arrived home and she was not there to greet him. Of course he had not sent word ahead that he would be arriving home. He looked toward the keep wondering where he would find Aislinn. The library? Their room?
He let the lad Regan take his mount for he was too anxious to speak with her.
“Where is she?” he asked Dermot when he entered the keep.
“Milord, we did not expect ye….” “Where is she?” he asked again.
“In the library,” Dermot answered a little too nervously.
Everyone he passed greeted him. They were pleasant enough, but there was whispering when they thought that he was not listening. It was like they were hiding something and they feared he would now discover the deception. He took the stairs two at a time and entered the library, but instead of going directly over to her, he stopped in the entryway.
She was playing chess with Teige. He heard her gregarious laugh and he felt the warmth of it flood through him. He wanted to remain a shadow among the walls, but Teige happened to look up.
“Milord,” Teige murmured and Aislinn had now turned around to see him standing there. Her mouth dropped open in surprise, but she quickly recovered her composure and stood. He noticed that there was something different about her, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. There were dark smudges beneath her eyes making her skin look pale.
“Leave us,” Dougray said to Teige but he did not take his eyes off Aislinn. Teige glanced at her to make sure that this was what she wished. She nodded her head and he turned toward Dougray once more. “As ye wish,
milord.”
He duly noted the loyalty that Teige bestowed toward Aislinn, but he did not say a word on the matter.
Once they were alone, he moved toward her only to have her move around the table, as if to avoid him. He was tired and anxious making his voice sound harsher than he had wished. “Stop moving.” When she jumped, he regretted his outburst.
“You have been gone for six weeks. I haven’t heard a word from you. Now you think you can waltz in here and just order me around? Would you like me to sit too? Roll over?”
“Still the sharp tongue ye have.” He ran his hand through his hair. “And you’re still the arrogant bastard.”
They were silent again as they glared at each other. It wasn’t exactly how either one of them had envisioned this reunion.
Dougray tried to start over. “Aislinn….” The words were lost to him and he sighed as he looked away.
“Where were you?”
“The Pale.” He glanced at her again. Something was definitely different, and it was troubling him that he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.
His appreciative eye traveled the length of her, his eyes lingering on the soft skin that was visible to his eyes, due to her gown fitting snugly against her chest.
Anger, disappointment, love were the feelings that fluttered back and forth when he thought about her, but right now he desired her. He wanted her.
He again made an attempt to approach her. This time, she didn’t run. He was there then, kissing her, pulling her closer against him his hands falling to her waist. She seemed fuller to the touch and yet her cheeks looked thinner. He pulled away to look at her and in that instant he knew. “Ye are with child?” She slowly nodded her head. He didn’t say another word, but just stared at her. There was a chill black silence that surrounded them, like an overpowering swell. She wanted to know what he was thinking. Wasn’t this what he had wanted, or had he now changed his mind? “Say something,” she demanded of him.
“Whose is it?” The thin chill hung on the edge of his accusing words.
So hurt, so insulted by his response, she lashed out at him, hitting him full force drawing blood from his lip. He knew he deserved it. He had just accused her of being unfaithful and yet he could not bring himself to apologize. She had lied when she had come to his bed, taking a liquid that would kill his seed and now she stood there saying… “That child ye carry could not be mine.” His voice held a finality that could not be broken and his eyes condemned her. “Is it Fingham’s? Ye were at his mercy and ye did not have yer precious poison.” He didn’t even give her the decency to answer him. He turned and strode to the door, obviously deciding that the discussion was over.
“Oh sure. Go. Just pretend, if you must. It would make it so easy to hate me then, if the child I carried was your enemy’s. But you’ll have to find another reason to despise me for this child that grows inside of me is yours!” He didn’t stop and she ran after him. He was at the stairs by the time she caught up. “You coward! You dirty filthy coward!” He whirled around, and for a brief moment, she thought that he would strike her.
“Don’t ever say that to me again.” His voice was low, meaningful and with a thread of warning.
Her pulse began to beat erratically and she knew that she should remain silent. She knew she should let him go so he would have a chance to calm down, so they both could calm down and think logically again. But instead of listening to her own warning, she once again goaded him, poking her finger into his chest. He grabbed her wrist, instantly stilling her jabs. “We have nothing further to discuss.” He pushed her away with such decisiveness that this time she let him go, but not without adding her own parting words.
“If you leave now, don’t ever come back.” For a second, she thought that he was going to return up the steps, for he had paused in his descent. But after a mere beat of a heart, he resumed his pace never looking back. Miserably crestfallen, she ran all the way to her room throwing herself on the bed. She couldn’t stop the flow of tears from coming. She had longed for Dougray to return so that she could tell him about the baby. Well now he knew, but he didn’t even believe it was his.
“Milady, are ye all right?” Moira went to her. “No. Please, Moira, I need to be alone.”
“I could
….”
“No, please,” she sobbed against her pillow. Moira didn’t know what else she could do. She left the room, closing the door behind her.
Teige was there and he looked questionably at her. “She wishes to be alone,” she told him.
“And I just heard milord yelling for a fresh mount.”
“Teige?” Dermot had come up the stairs. “I am looking for Cormac. Do ye know where he might be?”
“Is there something wrong?”
“Aye, he needs to go straight away to see Fiona.” “Fiona? If the wench….”
“It isn’t like that,” Dermot interrupted. “He must know. Come with me and I will explain.”
Chapter 61
Murrough was glad to be home, and hoped that Dougray would make amends with his wife so that life with him would be once more bearable. He walked past Padrig, who was busy hammering against the metal piece that would eventually be molded to a tool of some sort. The older man looked up with a nod toward the tall warrior.
“Good day, Padrig.”
Even though Murrough appeared to be gruff with his fiery red hair and stern brow, there was no mistaking the gentleness he possessed when he took Rhiannon in his arms. Padrig approved of the man’s strong affections toward his daughter and would like to see them handfast. He would have to work on it.
Murrough stooped so he could enter the house without bumping his head on the doorframe. His eyes adjusted quickly spotting Rhiannon sitting with her fabric, mending a gown. He really didn’t care. He was too intent in reaching her and gathering her into his arms. “I have missed ye sorely.”
“As I have ye, Murrough. So much so that at first I thought I was dreaming ye were here.”
He kissed her thoroughly, lovingly, not missing a portion of her beautiful face. “Do ye still think me an illusion?”
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