“Tamhas doesn’t have to be a priest.” Granny shook her head, leaned both elbows against the edge of the barrel, and folded her hands. “According to the laws of the land and this time, as long as you and Gray state you are man and wife to each other, you have a marriage—whether you have witnesses or not. If you make your oath in front of Gray’s clan, the marriage will be cemented even further.”
Trulie slid down until her chin rested just above the fragrant surface of the water. She pulled in a deep breath, savoring the calming scent of lavender infusing the steam. She studied her bright-red toes peeping at her from the other end of the tub. Her black mood shifted at least three shades lighter as a plan unfolded in her mind.
“Trulie Elizabeth.” Granny’s voice took on a stern what the devil are you up to now tone.
“What?” Trulie raised a leg above the surface of the water and watched the steam rise from her skin.
“Don’t what me, gal. I don’t like that look in your eye. What are you plotting?”
Trulie took the soap and lathered a foaming path of creamy bubbles down her leg. Drawing a finger through the suds, Trulie smiled at the faint layer of hair coating her shin. That was one good thing about the past; she no longer had to shave her legs.
“Trulie!” Granny thumped the side of the tub. “Out with it. What are you plotting?”
“I want to marry Gray in private.” There. She had said it aloud. Trulie rose from the water and held out a hand for the folded linen piled on another stool. Suddenly, the overly warm water was making her stomach roll. “You know how I hate crowds. I can’t stand the idea of standing up in front of half of Scotland like a sheep about to be slaughtered.”
Granny’s mouth pulled down into a disapproving frown. She shook out the cloth and scrubbed it over Trulie’s shoulders as she stepped from the tub. “You can’t do that. Gray is the MacKenna chief. He has responsibilities to his people.”
Trulie gathered the linen under her arms and clutched it to her chest. Her mood shifted back to darkness as she padded barefoot across the stones, then plopped down on the cushioned bench beside the hearth. “What about Gray’s responsibilities to me?”
“Ye will always be first in m’heart and mind, mo chridhe. Why would ye doubt that?”
“Get out of here, Gray!” Granny moved in front of Gray and tried in vain to push him back out the door. “It’s bad luck for you to see Trulie before the wedding. Get out of here. Go find someplace else to be.”
Gray shifted his feet wider apart and smiled down at Granny as though she were a yapping puppy. “I’ll no’ be going anywhere until I find out what is troubling m’love.”
Trulie’s stomach shifted with a sickening flop. She swallowed hard against the urge to gag. The dried crust of bread she had forced down earlier was getting dangerously close to coming back out. She closed her eyes, pressed both hands against her temples, and eased in a deep breath through pursed lips. If she got through this day without heaving, it would be a miracle. And wouldn’t that be a fine way to impress Gray’s clan? Trulie clamped her mouth shut tighter at the mental image of blowing chunks all over Gray as they stood saying their vows. Lordy, she just couldn’t do this.
Gray moved quickly across the room and knelt down in front of her. “What is wrong? Are ye unwell?” He gathered her hands into his own while his worried gaze searched her face.
Trulie shot Granny a warning glare over the top of Gray’s head. She wet her lips as she took in another shaking breath. “I think it’s just a combination of hormones and phobias.” Trulie swallowed hard and forced a smile to her face. “I’ll be fine.”
“Hormones and pho-bee-uz?” Gray sounded out the strange word as though it felt odd on his tongue. An enlightened look brightened his face as he nodded. “The child? I have heard tell how women are often ill when they get with child.”
Trulie couldn’t help but smile at Gray’s concerned tone. In an instant, he had forgotten about the celebration he had been excited about for days. All that mattered was her. Guilt butted in and stirred up her conscience. She couldn’t be selfish and dodge the crowd. This ceremony meant a lot to Gray. Hormones and phobias be damned. She would get through this day one way or another—for him.
—
Gray rubbed his thumbs across his damp palms, refusing to give in to the urge to wipe them across the backside of his plaid. He stood taller and sucked in a deep breath. A contented sense of completeness buoyed him. Life was good. He forced himself to clasp his hands in front of his belted pouch. A chief ne’er exhibits anything but strength and surety. His father’s words echoed through his mind, causing Gray to lift his chin and stop fidgeting.
The largest room of the keep hummed with the excited conversations of his people and guests from even as far away as Ireland. Servants scurried in and out among the clusters of chatting folk, passing out small folded linens soaked in cool, fragrant water.
A trickle of sweat started between Gray’s shoulder blades and rolled down the center of his back. The gathered waist of his belted léine felt as though someone had doused him with a bucket of water. Lore a’mighty. Perhaps they shouldha had the ceremony outside.
The crowd went silent and heads turned as the droning sound of bagpipes rang out from the arch of entwined ivy festooned across the entrance of the hall. Two barrel-chested pipers, faces red and cheeks rounded as they puffed into their chanters, flanked Trulie as she stood smiling in the doorway.
Pride and love burned through Gray with every hammer of his heart. There she was. His woman. The mother of his unborn child. Gray drew in a deep breath. Thank the gods she took that jump back in time.
Trulie wore a simple dress of the whitest linen. The tempting mounds of her full bosoms rounded pink above a scooped neckline embroidered with a design of trailing ivy. The high waistline flowed out into graceful folds that barely stirred as Trulie moved slowly toward him. The long bell-shaped sleeves hemmed with more carefully stitched leaves of green gently swayed with every step.
Lore a’mighty. Gray couldna help it. He shifted his weight from side to side. Surely even father would have fidgeted if mother had ever come to him in such a way. Gray swallowed hard against the sudden dryness of his mouth. He was blessed beyond measure and was about to wed an angel.
The throng parted, smiling and nodding as the pipers filled the hall with the soulful wail of their song and led Trulie to the front of the room.
As Trulie reached the dais, Gray stepped forward and held out his hand. “I have ne’er seen such loveliness.” Unspeakable emotion hitched his words into a broken whisper.
Trulie slid her damp palm into his. The lass is as nervous as I am. Her cheeks flushed pale pink as her gaze fell shyly to the unusual bough of herbs and flowers in her hands. The cluster of yarrow and dill trembled between them. Yarrow for everlasting love, myrtle for the emblem of marriage, and dill for protection against evil. Dullas had thrust the bundle into Gray’s hands just before he had entered the hall. The silent woman had pointed to the alcove where Trulie waited, then turned and shuffled away. A young serving girl who had befriended Dullas had whispered the meanings of the bundle before scurrying back to the kitchen.
Gray gently eased Trulie up beside him, crooked his finger under her chin, and brushed a chaste kiss across her mouth. “Tha gaol agam ort,” he whispered against her lips.
Trulie smiled against his mouth. “I love you too,” she whispered back.
A clearing throat directly beside them broke into the moment. Gray straightened and turned to a very smug-looking Tamhas.
“Shall we begin?” Tamhas’s eyes sparkled with happiness as he lightly bounced in place.
Gray couldn’t remember the last time he had seen the old demon so happy. And that was just fine. Happiness was in abundance this day. Finally. MacKenna keep had found peace. Gray nodded once. “Aye. Proceed.”
Tamhas took Trulie’s bouquet and nodded toward their hands. “Join yer hands,” he instructed as he turned and handed the flowe
rs to Granny.
Gray smiled his reassurance as Trulie’s hands trembled in his. He stroked a thumb across her cool, damp skin. Trulie swayed a bit off balance, then jerked back into place. She blinked hard and ran her tongue across her lower lip.
“Are ye unwell?” Concern piqued his senses as Gray freed her hands and steadied Trulie by her shoulders. The flushed color across her cheeks had heightened to an alarming hue. “Is it the heat, lass? We shall stop right now and finish this in the gardens.” Gray could kick himself. What the hell had he been thinking? A formal wedding, inside the keep, in the heat of late summer?
Trulie shook with a deep intake of breath. A sheen of perspiration shimmered across her pale forehead and the area around her mouth took on a sickly-yellow shade. “I’ll be fine,” she promised in a weak whisper. “We just need to hurry.”
Uneasiness stirred through Gray. From the increasing pallor of Trulie’s face, he verra much doubted if they could hurry fast enough. “Nay.” He crooked an arm about her waist. “Ye will ne’er last. We must find ye some relief.”
Trulie looked up at him and opened her mouth. But before any words came out, her eyes rolled back and she crumpled.
Gray caught her up in his arms as concerned gasps and exclamations rippled through the crowd. Trulie’s head fell to one side, her arms dangling limp and lifeless in the air.
“Oh Lord, no! Not the baby.” Granny rushed up on the dais. “Blood, Gray.” Granny’s horrified expression fixed on a dark-crimson stain slowly soaking through the folds of Trulie’s white gown.
Gray hefted Trulie higher against his chest. Dinna take her from me, he prayed over and over as he strode from the dais to the winding staircase leading to their private rooms. “Get the midwife. Now.” A nauseating mixture of fear and rage tensed through him as warm wetness dripped down his arm. “Granny, come! Yer healin’ touch, Granny—now!” Dinna take her or the child hammered through his mind as he vaulted up the steps.
The sickening plop of blood against stone spurred Gray to move faster. He kicked through the final door to their private chamber and eased Trulie down on the bed. Gray choked back a groan and a bitter curse. All color had drained from Trulie. She already looked as though her soul had departed.
Gray traced a trembling finger along Trulie’s clammy cheek. “Dinna leave me,” Gray rasped out past the knot in his throat. “I beg ye, m’love. Please dinna leave me.”
Trulie’s eyelids fluttered open as she slowly turned her head toward him. Her eyes filled with tears as she raised her hand and rested a finger against Gray’s lips. “Forgive me,” she whispered with a weak sigh as her hand dropped back to the bed.
—
Thirteen. That’s how many slabs of stones made up the floor of the room. Why the hell had the stone masons settled on thirteen? Gray stared down at the muted grays and blacks striated with lighter veins of white. The stones were cold. Unfeeling. Who knew how many tragedies the solid blocks had witnessed?
Gray raked both hands through his hair, tempted to yank it out by the roots. The day had plummeted from joyous brightness to the suffocating darkness of sorrow. Gray lifted his head and stared at the closed door. He could nay lose her. He didna give a damn about Trulie’s rules of time runners and not dabbling with the past. If the Fates took his beloved from him, he would send one of the other Sinclair women back in time and have them do whatever it took to warn Trulie of this day. Gray shifted his glare upward. Defiance clenched his jaw. The laws of time could be damned. He would ne’er let her go.
Hesitant footsteps sounded behind him. Gray didna look around—just returned to the mindless chore of pacing. It had to be Colum. Like the brother he had never had, Colum would be the only one brave enough to sit with him during this time.
“The midwife—” Colum cleared his throat with an uncomfortable cough. “Has she come out and said how Lady Trulie fares?”
“Nay.” Gray shook his head without taking his gaze from the floor.
The iron latch of the door clicked. Gray halted, sucked in a deep breath, and tensed for the worst. Colum moved to his side and rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
The door slowly opened. A red-faced woman emerged. Her left arm clutched a wooden bowl piled high with blood-soaked rags. Ringlets of damp hair clung about her face as she wiped a forearm across her forehead. She glanced at Gray and then quickly looked away.
“Tell me,” Gray hissed. “Tell me. I must know.”
“The babe, a son, is no more, m’chieftain.” The midwife’s mouth tightened into a frown as she avoided looking Gray in the face and stared back at the door. “Thanks be t’the Fates’ permission and the Lady Nia’s healing touch. Yer wife lives. She rests easier.” The midwife’s voice softened as she added, “For now.”
A son. Gray closed his eyes and bowed his head, holding his breath against the pain. His firstborn son was dead. The midwife’s assessment of Trulie’s condition echoed through the blanket of sorrow settling over him. For now. The midwife had added For now. Gray stiffened, then jerked toward the woman. “What the hell do ye mean ‘For now’?”
Colum latched onto Gray’s arm with an iron grip. “ ’Tis no’ her doing, Gray. Control yerself, man.” Colum yanked him back. He pulled hard against Gray’s shoulder until Gray finally straightened and stood rooted to the spot.
A cruel mix of painful emotions threatened to double him over. Gray clenched his shaking hands and forced himself not to roar at the terrified midwife. “My wife. She must live. Ye must tell me it will be so.”
The wide-eyed woman bit her lower lip and barely shook her head. “I canna say. Yer wife must find the will t’live. ’Tis up to a greater power than I.”
“That greater power best realize that Gray MacKenna will no’ allow his love to be taken. They already robbed me of me son. I’ll be damned straight to the fiery pits afore I allow them to take me wife as well.” Gray collapsed to the bench beside the closed door and dropped his head into his hands.
“Gray!” Colum waved the midwife toward the outer hall as he rushed over to settle on the bench beside Gray. “Ye must not speak so. ’Tis blasphemy…and mayhap a foolhardy challenge to the gods.”
Gray raised his head and looked Colum dead in the eye. “Then let the challenge begin, for I will ne’er allow them to take her from me.”
Chapter 26
A cool, wet nose snuffled into her palm as a soft whine vibrated into her hand. Trulie slid her fingers along the velvet of Karma’s muzzle without opening her eyes. I love you too, old friend. The mattress sank with the weight of the dog as he returned to his place against Trulie’s side. Karma’s warmth sank into Trulie like a soothing tonic. Bless him. He doesn’t know what to do to make me feel better.
A calloused hand pressed against her forehead. Trulie didn’t open her eyes. It took too much effort. The rough hand moved to her cheek, then nudged firmly against the side of her throat. Go away. Trulie forced in a shallow breath. Even breathing made her body hurt. The hand shoved beneath her shoulders, lifted her up, then gently lowered her back down to a cool dry pillow.
A frail groan escaped her as she settled back into place. Crime-a-nitly, that hurt. But the dry pillow beneath her head did feel much better. The other one had gotten all wet and lumpy. Trulie held her breath against the sob threatening to shake free. She needed to go back to the darkness. At least when she was unconscious her heart didn’t hurt so badly.
“Trulie.” Granny’s voice called softly just to the right of her head.
Trulie didn’t answer. She didn’t feel like talking. If she kept her eyes shut and remained still, maybe Granny would just go away. A drowning sense of loss and sadness pushed her deeper into the safe darkness of her mind.
“Don’t you dare give up, Trulie Elizabeth.” The silky back of Granny’s hand pressed gently against Trulie’s cheek.
Granny always did have the softest skin—kind of like crinkly satin. Trulie drew a deeper breath as a burning teardrop squeezed out from under one
eyelid and rolled a hot trail of wetness down the side of her face.
“It will get better, gal,” Granny whispered as she pressed a kiss to Trulie’s forehead and dabbed the tear away. “The hurt will ease in time. I promise it will. I have been where you are.”
Trulie turned her head away from the impossible-to-believe advice. Maybe Granny had known pain and loss, but that didn’t lessen the empty ache that made it nearly impossible to breathe. Trulie swallowed the throbbing pain of unshed tears and nestled deeper into the softness of the fresh pillow. Go away, Granny. Just go away.
A door creaked, then closed with a soft thud.
Even in her weakened state, Trulie sensed Gray had entered the room. “I would see m’wife.” Hesitant footsteps scraped against stone.
Trulie almost sobbed aloud. No. Make him go away. I can’t see him right now.
The heavy footsteps shuffled closer. Holding her breath against the pain, Trulie forced her body to roll away from the man she had so terribly failed. The coolness of the stone wall radiated against her face. She couldn’t cope with Gray. Not this soon.
“Trulie.” Gray’s deep whisper rolled across her as his fingers barely brushed against the back of her hair.
Trulie closed her eyes tighter and pressed a clenched fist against her mouth. Gray needed to leave. She needed time to figure out what the devil had gone wrong and where she had messed up. What had she done to cause the loss of their baby?
Tears burned against her eyelids and gut-wrenching sobs threatened to explode free of Trulie’s control every time Gray’s hand stroked across her hair. Their son. He had been so perfect, clear down to his tiny toes. What the hell had she done wrong?
Trulie squeezed her eyes shut tighter and burrowed her face deeper into the pillow. She couldn’t allow it. She could not allow Gray to see her collapse. Hadn’t she failed the man enough? The last thing he needed right now was a hysterical woman. In fact, maybe he didn’t need her at all. Maybe Gray would be better off without her.
My Highland Lover (Highland Hearts) Page 28