“Matilda didn’t let Joan examine her?”
A tightening of his mouth pushed away his smile. “Not really, and she told Ma some stories about false symptoms to make it sound like she was with child.” He gazed into her eyes. “But even if ye aren’t now, it’s only a matter of time.” He leaned in and kissed her on the lips, touching her face, before pulling back. “As long as ye don’t do anything else foolish like sitting on a fence when a herd of cattle are about to descend at full speed.”
“And you don’t kiss any other women,” Ava replied with one arched brow.
His grin curved higher. “Agreed.”
Ava studied his soft wavy hair. He was so roguishly handsome when he smiled. His happiness shone in his blue eyes. Would their baby have blue eyes? Joy bubbled within her for a moment before the weight of worry crushed down over it.
I should tell him. Now, while we’re alone. But he looked so happy at the thought of the baby. No, she had to do it. The lie of her identity was eating her from inside. She took a sip of the tea. When she set it down, she drew Tor’s hand into her lap. “Tor, we haven’t ever really talked about our pasts before.”
“Ye’ve avoided the topic, which was why I never brought up Bridget.”
She sighed. “Maybe we need to talk about it. Your past. My past in York. You need to know who the mother of your child is.”
“Aye.” He kissed her forehead. “But over these months together, I’ve learned a lot about ye.”
“You have?” She swallowed against a new constriction in her throat. Had he written to Somerset? Learned something about her? How easy it would be to ask about her confusing name.
“Ye’re helpful and kind when attending the sick with my mother. Ye’re respectful and caring to your cousin. Mairi likes ye, and she doesn’t like many.” He squeezed her hand. “And ye’re warm and soft,” he said, running his hand down her arm. “Brave and adventurous, in and out of my bed. I’m a fortunate man to have ye as wife.”
Thank the Lord he hadn’t said honest or she’d have started crying. As it was, tears pressed hard on the backs of her eyes, and she sniffed. “I must be pregnant.” She wiped under one eye. “I keep weeping.”
He kissed her forehead and stood. “Ye rest, and I’ll send Grace up to help ye get ready for the feast in an hour.”
Exhaustion weighed on Ava’s limbs, and Tor’s sweet words on her heart. She nodded and gave him a small smile. “Thank you. For saving me.”
He nodded and turned to go out the door. Ava watched him walk away and felt a pain in her head and chest. For when he found out that she’d lied, and had carried the lie for months, would he walk away from her forever? As the door fell closed, a hollow sense of loneliness filled her. Ava lay back and gave into the tears, letting them pour from her eyes to wet the sheet with regret.
Chapter Fourteen
“So…” Grace said as she nudged Ava awake from her perch on the bed. “Want to tell me why Joan is so concerned about calming your womb?”
Ava rolled away from her, trying to snuggle back into the warmth, but the tight stays of her bodice pinched, and she remembered it was the middle of the day. Ava groaned. “I’m so tired.”
Grace touched her forehead. “No fever. Maybe something else is plaguing you.” Her perfectly plucked eyebrows reached upward toward her hairline, a mischievous smile lighting her face.
Ava rubbed her eye where a tear had dried. “I really don’t know yet, but Joan thinks I’m pregnant.”
“I knew it,” Grace said and laughed. “The woman wouldn’t say a word when we left, but I knew it.” She grabbed Ava’s hands. “That’s wonderful.”
Ava pushed up higher onto the mountain of pillows and noticed that shadows lay across the room. Evening had already come. “I hope that is what’s plaguing me. Or it’s the burden of the lie I’ve been carrying around making me ill, dizzy, and tearful.”
“So, you haven’t had your monthly?”
“No, but it could be worry stopping it. That used to happen when Vincent would come home from London.” Ava pushed out of the bed, testing her balance. Her limbs and back ached, but everything seemed fairly normal.
Grace scooted behind her and unlaced the stays so she could change her dusty gown for dinner. “Did you tell him about us?”
“Not yet. He was too happy about a possible baby.” Ava turned to her best friend and caught her hands. “He said the nicest things to me about being kind and brave.” Ava felt the foolish tears return and blinked them back, determined to keep hold of her emotions. She cleared her throat. “Tomorrow. I will tell him tomorrow. I have to know if he can forgive me.” She swallowed. “Before it’s too late.”
“Too late?” Grace asked, her own eyes sad.
“Before I fall completely in love with him,” she said, her voice quite small.
Grace pinched her lips tight and nodded. “Yes, it would be best to find that out first, if that’s still an option, because you look very much like someone whose heart is already breaking.” Grace wiped a finger under her own eye. “And if your heart breaks, so does mine.”
Holding hands, they both squeezed like they used to as young girls. Before the action could make them start blubbering, Ava turned away to fix her loose hair before the polished glass.
“Did he say anything about the woman? Bridget, I think?” Grace asked.
“They were intimate before,” Ava said, ignoring the twist of her stomach the words provoked. “He says he didn’t have a chance to explain he was married.” She turned and inhaled deeply. “And that he hadn’t planned to marry her, but it may have happened eventually.”
Grace took her arm as they left the room. “So, we put her in the enemy category,” she said as she helped Ava secure her hood.
“And stay far away from her?” Ava asked.
“Pish,” Grace said, smiling at Ava over her shoulder in the reflected mirror. “That means we stay as close to her as possible.”
Ava laughed softly, finding her first true smile in hours.
As it turned out, many of the festival merrymakers had returned home after a signal fire was lit on the coast indicating there was English activity on the mainland. Tor and Hamish rode with a small band of Macleans to the shore, returning with little information.
“They could be curious about all the smoke from the bonfires,” Hamish said as he sat at the long table in the great hall. Joan had ordered their meal to be inside when the shadows grew long, for added protection. Roast pork, Grace’s apple pie, and apple tarts sat along the table. Luckily, Ava’s hunger overrode the nausea at the strong smells.
“Or they’re planning to slit our throats in the night,” Duky spat out with a curse about bloody English doing sexually foul things to livestock.
“No one is sneaking up on Aros,” Gavin said. The young solider stood with his arms crossed, legs braced, just like Tor. Even his face looked older in his determination.
“If they do come over, we’ve done nothing wrong,” Joan pointed out. “They have no squabble with us. We don’t harbor French patriots, and ye’ve just wed one of their nearly royal subjects.” Joan’s hand went out toward Ava.
Good Lord! Ava hoped it didn’t come to that, but she’d attempt to play the part of an earl’s sister to keep the peace.
Tor lowered his bulk down next to Ava and began to knife a slice of pork onto her plate, along with a very pretty tart sprinkled with sugar. “Ye need to eat,” he said, bending toward her ear. “Leave the worry to me.”
He watched her until she put a piece of pork between her lips. She chewed slowly on the salty meat, the smoky flavor suddenly tasting very good to her. She cut more, poking her knife through it to raise it to her lips. Tor nodded in approval and ran his warm hand down her back as he stood to talk to several Maclean scouts who’d walked in.
Ava picked up the best part, the apple tart, and nibbled around the edges to leave her usual tasty center for last. She set it on her plate to take a drink when the door banged open i
n the entryway, causing the men around the table to jump up.
“They are paddling a small boat over from Oban,” the Maclean warrior said as he strode in directly to Tor.
“How many?” Tor asked.
“Three,” the man said.
“Three regiments?” Hamish asked.
Ava stood, as did all the others at the table. Grace took her hand.
“Nay, three men.”
“Meet them at landing, and bring them here,” Tor said. “But send one scout ahead with information on who they are and what their business is.”
Joan nodded approvingly. “Ye are the Maclean and should be here within Aros. Gus would have done the same.”
Grace leaned into Ava. “It could be the captains from Oban coming to inspect the fires. They’re obviously not attacking with only three men rowing over out in the open.”
Ava turned to Joan, determined to help her new family. “Should I be beside Tor to show my allegiance and support, that we are indeed wed?”
“Aye,” she said. “As lady of the castle.”
A panicky feeling filled Ava’s chest. “I think we should send Grace above. I don’t want them knowing she is here.” No one heard her, and Ava shooed Grace toward the dark alcove.
“Duky went to alert the men. Thomas has arrows and swords in reserve,” Hamish said.
“This could be about the fires,” Ava said.
Tor leaned into her, brushing his lips over hers. “Aye, but I don’t take chances with my people, nor my love,” he whispered.
Ava’s breath caught as he backed up, turning to ask Hamish about other supplies and boats. Had he just said…? Ava replayed his words in her mind. He’d said love, as in her. It was a title, not a declaration, but it was the first time he’d said anything close to loving her. Ava’s heart leapt in her chest, a flutter of joy breaking through the icy surface of her worry.
Ava noticed Grace hovering in the alcove, too curious to go upstairs. They listened for long minutes, the men talking in low murmurs, all of them waiting. Finally, footsteps clapped against the stone in the entryway as a scout ran in out of breath.
“Three Englishmen,” he started right in. “Captain Thompson and one soldier.”
“And the third?” Hamish asked. “The other captain in Oban?”
“Nay, a gentleman from the south come to visit Aros.”
“A gentleman?” Joan asked. “What does a gentleman want of Aros?”
“He’s come to visit his sister and her companion.”
Ava’s stomach dropped so hard she felt the floor shudder beneath her. “His name?” she asked, surprised she could even speak.
“Third Earl of Somerset in York. I believe his Christian name was Vincent Ellington.”
The name sunk into Ava like poison from a bite, hitting her bloodstream with a fast-moving current of panic. She pivoted toward the stairs and ran into the shadows where Grace stood.
“Lord in Heaven, hallowed be thy name…” Grace whispered her prayers in Latin as Ava stopped abruptly before her.
“You will have to be me,” Ava said. Grace continued her litany, so Ava caught her by the arm, shaking her. “You have to be me.”
Grace’s round eyes took Ava in. “You mean, be myself?” she breathed. “And you be dead, right?”
“Right,” Ava said.
“But Joan, Tor, everyone. They’ll give us away. Vincent will know I’m not married.” She grabbed at Ava’s arm, clutching, almost clawing her in her panic. “He’ll take me back, back to Somerset, back without you.”
Ava shook her head. “I won’t let him.” She slapped Grace’s fingers away and anchored her with heavy hands on her shoulders, forcing Grace to focus on her face. “I promised you, Grace. Vincent will not have you.”
Ava realized she was breathing way too fast when sparks started to populate the ring of her vision. She purposely drew in a long, steadying breath and let it out.
“Ava?” Tor called as he walked into the alcove. “Good. It would be best for you two to go above anyway.”
“Yes,” Grace squeaked and tried to pull away.
“Wait,” Ava called, her gaze flying about the small alcove, searching for a way out, a way that didn’t involve her revealing everything to Tor moments before Vincent walked in. But nothing appeared, and the floor didn’t drop out to swallow her into oblivion. She inhaled, wishing suddenly that air could kill her. “Tor, I need to tell you something. Not something, things. Things I meant to tell you earlier, but you were so happy, and I…”
“Ava, I need to go sit in the great hall. Ye can explain later,” he said evenly, a peacekeeper talking her down from a precipice, which is exactly where Ava felt she stood. If only it would be so simple as to jump and be done with it.
“No, Tor.” Ava grabbed his shoulders, her fingers curling into his shirt. “You have to listen. Vincent Ellington…he thinks you are married to Grace, not me, and if you don’t act like you’re married to her, he will take Grace back to York and possibly kill her.”
“What? This doesn’t make sense,” he said low, his brows drawn. But he wasn’t trying to turn toward the great hall anymore.
“It’s true,” Grace whispered from the corner where she clasped her hands. “He thinks Ava is dead, and we need to convince him that’s true, or he’ll take her back to York and kill her.”
“Over my dead body,” he said.
“Absolutely not,” Ava said and tried to shake Tor, but only his shirt moved because he was a mountain of strength that couldn’t be moved.
“Why does he think I’m married to Grace?” Tor asked, studying Ava. Was he putting together the facts, her evasion of his questions, the strangeness of her name?
Ava’s face was tight, her jaw aching as it seemed to pull in on itself with her desperation for him to understand and somehow at the same time not be hurt. She wet her lips. “Because Grace is his half sister, Lady Grace Ellington of Somerset, the one who was sent to be your bride.”
“And ye are?” he asked slowly.
“Ava Sutton,” she paused against the boulder in her throat and forced herself to swallow. “An orphan and Grace’s maid.”
Tor stared at her, unmoving. He was a statue chiseled from the hardest of marble.
“She lied to save me,” Grace said from beside Ava, but Tor didn’t even blink away from Ava’s face. “And I was afraid to marry you,” Grace continued. “I didn’t know you, and you were called the Beast of Aros, and you growled.”
From out in the hall, Ava could hear men talking and the sound of boots. “Please, Tor. I promised I would protect Grace.”
“And I would protect Ava by swearing she is dead,” Grace said. “Otherwise he will make her return to Somerset. You have to make everyone out there say she’s dead and I’m wed to you.” Now Grace was tugging on his sleeve.
“Tor?” Joan called “Where are ye? Ye have visitors.” Joan walked in. “What’s going on?” she whispered.
When Tor didn’t say anything, Ava spoke. “I’m not an earl’s half sister. Grace is. I am just her maid.”
“And best friend,” Grace added. “She took my place to wed Tor, and now we have to pretend I’m married to Tor and she’s dead so Vincent will go back to England and leave us alone.”
“By all that’s holy,” Joan whispered.
“Please whisper this to everyone out there,” Ava said to her. “Please.”
Grace gasped. “What about Captain Thompson? He knows you as me. What are we to do?”
“Say that I was pretending to be you at the docks to protect you, as a maid should,” Ava said. “We changed places on the journey and changed back once we reached Aros.”
“Yes, yes,” Grace said breathless.
Joan just looked back and forth between them, her mouth agape. “Ye aren’t an English lady wed to Tor to save Aros?” Her words were soft, but they cut straight into Ava’s heart.
“Joan,” she started, shaking her head. “I never meant to harm anyone. I only sought
to save Grace and me. That was, until I realized how it could affect Aros. I planned to continue the charade with the English captains to keep Aros free of them if possible, but Vincent coming has ruined everything.”
“So ye never intended to tell me,” Tor said, his face a blank mask.
Ava pivoted to face him, her face etched with pain. She held her cool fingers around her neck. “I did. I tried to tell you today, but you were so happy about the baby. I thought to tell you tomorrow.”
“Is there even a baby?” he asked. “Or is that another lie?”
“I…” What could she say? She didn’t know for certain that she was pregnant, had told them all that. “I would never lie about a baby, especially knowing what you’ve suffered before.” She let her watery eyes shut for a moment, shut out the horrifying look of betrayal in Tor’s gaze.
More footsteps sounded in the hall. Ava opened up to see Hamish standing there with a bewildered expression. “What the bloody hell is keeping ye all in here? Captain Thompson asked if ye’re back here hiding the bloody King of France himself.”
Ava jumped when Tor grabbed her hand. With a twisting tug, he yanked the wedding ring he’d given her off her finger. “Here.” He handed it to Grace and turned to Hamish. “As far as ye or anyone else at Aros knows, Grace is my wife and Ava, her maid, died shortly after journeying here.”
“God’s balls,” Hamish swore. “What the bloody hell are ye talking about?”
“I’ll explain later, but right now make sure everyone knows that,” Tor said, turning his back on Ava and holding out his arm to Grace.
Grace began a hushed litany of the Lord’s Prayer again as she took it.
“Where should I go?” Ava asked.
Tor’s voice reached her as he nearly dragged Grace along to broach the archway into the great hall. “Ye are dead.” He glanced back over his shoulder. “Go wherever the bloody hell ye wish.”
Chapter Fifteen
He’d been tricked. Again.
Tor escorted Grace Ellington into the hall, a careful mask in place, barely containing his fury. There’d been signs of her foul game. The convoluted name. The wrong eye color. The snappy retorts so different from the mild lady she’d been reported to be. But he’d been lured by her beauty and fascinated by her mind and surprising declarations that he’d ignored the warning signs, and her past. How could he have let it go so long without pressing her on it? He’d let the Englishwoman trick him, and in so doing, had jeopardized the safety of Aros.
The Beast of Aros Castle (Highland Isles) Page 15