“She looks verra pale,” he said, glancing at Maldie who stood on the other side of the bed.
“’Tis but the pain and the loss of blood.”
“Will she die?” he whispered.
“Nay, Eric, for if she dies that means that bastard has won and ye really dinnae think I would allow that, do ye?”
Eric found a small thread of strength in Maldie’s words. He sent her off to get some food and rest. Slowly, as he sat there and watched Bethia sleep, he began to get some control over the fear he felt.
He loved her. Eric was astonished that it had taken something like this to make him see it. The knowledge made everything so clear. It explained the sense of rightness and possession he had felt from the start. It explained why he had found her parents’ treatment of her a source of such anger. It also explained his need to know that she approved of his taking of Dubhlinn and the hunger he felt to know what was in her heart. He had always been searching for some sign that she felt more than passion for him and now he knew why. His heart had demanded it.
Now all he needed was the chance to tell her. He smiled at his own cowardliness, for he knew that, if she recovered, he would hesitate. Even though he knew his own heart now, he wanted to know how she felt before he bared his soul.
By dawn, Bethia was caught firmly in the throes of a high fever. Eric helped Maldie bathe Bethia with cool water, force potions down her throat, and hold her still when her thrashing threatened to open her wound. The battle to try to keep her alive demanded all his strength and attention. He calmed her fears, kissed away her tears as she relived some pain in her fevered mind, and talked to her when she slipped into too deep a sleep. After one grueling hour of listening to the hurt child Bethia had been, Eric looked up to find Maldie crying.
“Her parents are cruel bastards, arenae they?” Maldie said as she rubbed the tears from her cheeks with the sleeve of her gown.
“Aye,” Eric agreed. “They made Bethia Sorcha’s shadow.”
“I think it was e’en worse than that. She was set in Sorcha’s shadow, then constantly told she wasnae even worthy enough to be there. And Sorcha—her womb sister, the one person in this world who should have been close to her—should have stood by her, but did naught to change it.”
“Nay.” Eric sighed. “I think Bethia begins to see that for herself now. She is stronger, more sure of herself, but I think the scars will be a verra long time in healing.”
“Aye, but having a bonny laddie like you ever eager to share her bed should help.” Maldie smiled faintly. “Ye Murray men do have a softness for poor wounded sparrows, dinnae ye?”
“Mayhap we just have an eye keen enough to see what will be there when the bandages are removed.”
Maldie stepped over to him and kissed him on the cheek. “I am going to curl up with my big brown mon for a wee rest. Be sure to fetch me if there is any change. And”—she pointed at the tray of food Grizel had brought in earlier—“eat something before I am forced to be nursing ye as weel.”
It was on the afternoon of the fourth day that Eric heard Bethia curse. He bent forward, prepared to deal with another fevered dream, but the eyes looking up at him were clear. His hand unsteady, he rested his palm on her forehead and found it cool. He took several deep breaths to calm the emotion swelling up inside of him, afraid that he was close to bursting into tears. Not only would that embarrass him, but he had the feeling it would seriously alarm Bethia.
“Why am I so wet?” Bethia asked, wincing as she realized her throat was so dry it hurt to speak.
Eric poured her some of the sweet mead Maldie had left by the bed and helped her drink it. “Ye have been fevered for four days, lass.”
“Oh.” She slumped against the pillows he hastily plumped up behind her, the simple act of drinking making her feel weak. “At least that explains why, when I first woke up, I didnae understand why my shoulder hurt. Ah, weel, William is dead and that ordeal is o’er.”
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.”
Chapter Twenty-three
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.”
Highland Promise Page 28