by D. K. Combs
“Good, now get some food in you,” her mother said, gesturing to the mutton before she turned to pay attention to Alan. Alan, with his bright blue eyes, and bouncing blonde hair… He was the spitting image of their mother.
Vaguely, she realized her hands had crept to her own stomach.
No, no she couldn’t be doing that in here, not with all of the watchful eyes.
Blay had the play the part of a well-behaved daughter, and if that meant suffering through a bite or two of slush, then that’s what she’d have to do. Plus, she thought with a small smile, she would need her strength to make it to the stream, anyway!
She dipped her spoon into the slush, then pulled it up to eye level, glaring it down. This had been the first sign that something was off—the aversion to smells and textures. The overwhelming nausea that came over her when faced with certain foods…it had been the very first sign, and the reminder that she hadn’t had her menses in weeks.
Then the swelling of her breasts had started, her nipples so sore it seemed as if they were constantly chaffing against her clothes to the point of feeling raw. It was all she could do to keep herself from wincing every time she walked and her swollen breasts swayed.
Slowly, looking around her to see if anyone was watching, she brought the spoon to her lips and—
Gagged.
Right there, with the spoon halfway into her mouth, the mere heat of the mutton brushing against the roof of her mouth was enough to have the bile rise with full force.
“Pardon me, mother,” she choked out.
Before she made a scene right on the table, she set the spoon down and pushed her chair back. She had to escape the smell, the very presence, of the mutton.
Almost running through the hall to find a place to vomit in peace, she wasn't prepared for a hand shooting out and latching onto her arm, spinning her around to face the man who’d grabbed her.
“Are you alright?”
Connor.
She nearly sagged with relief, even if she was about to vomit on him.
“A chamber pot would be nice,” she muttered, gently extracting herself from his arm to continue rushing down the hall. All she needed was a moment to collect herself, to calm herself. So much was happening, was going to happen. With the combination of morning sickness, it was all she could do to get a full breath in.
“Blayne,” Connor said from behind her, that tone of voice slowing her down. She put a hand on the wall to steady herself, closing her eyes. It seemed a moment to herself was a little too much to expect. “What’s going on? You’re pale as a ghost.”
She put on the best smile she could manage, then turned around to face him.
“Nothing is going on—I just feel a bit…under the weather.” That was an understatement. Her stomach roiled and she reached down to touch the small bump before she could stop herself.
Connor’s eyes traveled to her stomach. With the shawl and how large it was, the small bump was barely noticeable. She had stopped wearing the corsets her mother had encouraged her to wear, worried that it would cause something to go wrong. She wasn’t foolish enough to trust a midwife not to tell her parents if she reached out to one with concerns.
But, it seemed, she was foolish enough to reveal her secret to the most attentive man in the keep.
“You’re…with child?” he asked, the tone more astonished than furious. Her eyes closed on a sigh. It wasn’t embarrassment that had her head shaking in denial, but rather, fear of what her father would do.
The McGregors are as good as dead to us…
If he felt that way for Alec failing to protect her, how would he feel if he knew Alec had also failed to resist her…and her, him?
“Nay,” she said weakly, knowing arguing would be useless. “Tis just a stomach bug, I fear—“
“Do not lie to me, my lady. You are, aren’t you?” he said, reaching forward to slowly pull the shawl flap aside. There, dainty and barely noticeable to those not looking for such, was the soft swell of her and Alec’s child. “You’re pale, keeping to yourself, and now you’re running away from breaking fast before you’ve taken a bite—as you’ve done the past fortnight.”
She was silent, bowing her head.
There were no words to defend herself, but yet, he hadn’t asked for an explanation. He’d simply asked for a confirmation, and even that was hard to give. Connor was loyal, above all, to her parents. In some instances, he would take her side, but this…this was more than simply running away. This was changing the course of her life.
Although, running away had been the catalyst that set this all in motion.
“I don’t know what to do,” she finally whispered, looking at him through watery lashes. For weeks—nay, several moons—this secret had been her own. Amidst all the worrying of Alec, she had also worried about how to handle bearing his child without letting her parents know, and what she would do when the time came to bring the bairn into the world.
Finally having someone beside her that knew?
It felt as if the weight of a hundred stones had been taken from her shoulders.
“Well,” he said with a chuckle tinged with concern, “who is the father?”
At that, tears really began to well in her eyes—tears of frustration, tears of fear. Tears of pain borne of keeping this secret from not only her family, but from Alec herself… She thought of how Alec and her had left things. How he could possibly go his whole life without knowing he had a son, or a daughter, and a woman who desperately loved him.
If she were a stronger woman in the face of her father, she would man up. She would throw back her shoulders, go to her father’s study, throw open the door, and then demand that he listen to her and not kill Alec McGregor when he found out what the two of them had done.
Really, that was her only reason for not coming forward, the fear that her father’s rage would reach an unquenchable height so forceful that he went straight to the McGregors keep and slew them all.
For that reason alone, she kept her head down and her secret to herself…until now.
Now, Connor would bring the death of the only man she had ever truly craved and…loved.
She swiped at her cheeks, hating that she couldn’t stop the tears.
“It’s no one,” she said, retreating. She turned her back on him, head bowed. “It’s no one, Connor.”
“Your name isn’t Mary and I know damn well you’re not a virgin, Blayne. Tell me who it is,” Connor demanded, a gentleness to his voice that nearly had her resolve swaying. “If they hurt you… You’re protected, lass. Your father will kill anyone who did this to you, no matter if they are friend or foe.”
Those weren’t the right words to say.
Covering her mouth to hold back a sob, she raced away from him, simultaneously hating him and terrified of him. If he found out who it was, regardless of whether she pleaded with him to keep it a secret or not, he wouldn’t.
“Blayne,” Connor called after her. She heard the curse, but didn’t stop. She just kept running, until she was in the warm glow of her stairwell, halfway to her room. The door fell away under hands when she pushed, and then she was inside.
She headed straight for her bed. The only source of silence and peace from the world, the stress, the people. As she slid between the sheets, the shawl still tucked securely around her body, she pressed her face into the pillow.
Blayne wished she could say the emotion spilled from her then. All of the tears she had tried to choke back, the tremors from the overwhelming anxiety… She wished it would all come out, but there was nothing.
Only silence.
Only mulling, damning silence.
And the silence lasted, right up until her mother came to let her know that Leith had arrived.
“What makes ye’ think this will do ye’ any good, man? There are better ways to—“
“I tried all of the ‘better’ ways,” Alec snarled, crouching low. He was just on the outskirts of the fence, hiding behind the forestry. Th
e trees provided a suitable cover as he crept closer, gauging the distance to the keep he had been eying for the last several hours.
He was not going to run headlong into a battle, though he was prepared for it. He was prepared for everything that might happen this day—even to walk away empty handed. Lord, but that was probably what was going to happen, regardless.
For three moons, he had sent missives. Not only to Blayne, but to Kane as well. Begging his forgiveness for failing… It had brought himself to a low he had never gone to before, but for Blayne? He would do anything.
Had done anything.
Except this.
This could end in one of several ways.
He could either be butchered before he reached her, denied her forgiveness and butchered, or what he really wanted to happen—receive her forgiveness and have her return for him.
Alec knew he had failed her before, in one of the most catastrophic of ways, but it would not happen again. Not now that he knew how strongly he truly felt for her, not now that he knew how strongly he needed her to breathe.
He only prayed she shared that same sentiment.
“What do you plan on doing?” Thomas hissed, shoving at his shoulder. “Prancing in there with the target on your head?”
“Men do not prance,” he replied calmly, rolling his eyes. “They stride. Or swagger. Or something manly of the like. Only a fool would prance.”
“Well you might as well prance in there, because this is the most foolish thing you’ve done of late! And all for a woman? Alec, what has gotten into your head?”
Alec gave his squire a bemused look, as if the answer were so obvious it didn’t need explaining. “Love, my friend. That is what has gotten into my head—nay, not just my head. My heart. Aye, my heart.”
Thomas’ eye twitched.
“You can’t be serious right now. You’re risking your life…because of love?” The grumpy bastard practically spit the words, but all Alec could do was shrug. There was no use explaining such complex manners to a person who had never experienced this kind of overwhelming need, this craving, to hold one woman, and only her.
“Not only that, but you left all your men behind! This is a suicide mission—Alec. Alec, no. Alec, stop climbing over the fence. Alec, god damn it, get back here,” Thomas snapped. Soon enough though, he heard the squire curse and hop over the fence to join him.
“No one asked you to come with me,” Alec reminded him. “You did this all on your own accord.”
“Well, who else is supposed to return to the keep? Who else would inform your clan that you served yourself to The Lion on a silver platter? No one, if I hadn’t come along,” he said, chest puffing. He thought himself quite the important man for braving a dangerous journey into Shaw lands, and Alec had to agree.
The two of them were, quite literally, serving themselves to The Lion—but that was only if they got caught.
“We are in broad daylight,” Thomas reminded him, huffing as they trekked up the stream. Alec stuck low to the shrubbery, using the unkempt plants to mask him. Though he was sure it did nothing to mask his presence, as the keep was a towering monstrosity that mirrored his own.
Still, if he could just find a way to enter unnoticed, he could find Blayne.
Could see her, even if there was nothing but hate and disappointment in her eyes. Even if there was nothing but disgust in her eyes. He had failed to protect her. Twice, he should have been there to take slay her demons, and he had failed in such a way that there might never be redemption.
But that didn’t mean he couldn’t try.
“Mayhap ye’ should take a jump into the stream and float back to our keep, aye? Report to the clan that way. Yer bickering is more likely to get us killed than what I’m doing. At least I’m quiet.”
“Mayhap I should,” Thomas said, an obvious bluff.
“Then do it.” Alec paused to look at Thomas, then the steady rush of water. “Hop on in, man.”
Thomas gave him a disgruntled look—and then his eyes slid past him.
“Duck, my lord!”
“There aren’t any ducks—“ He grunted when Thomas grabbed his plaid and pulled him down. His confusion was quickly solved when he heard the voices of the figures Thomas had noticed come up behind them.
“This is it,” Thomas said, covering his face. “This is where we die. This is…the end.”
“…and yer well now?”
He squinted, as if that would make the distant voices have more clarity. It didn’t, but it seemed they were moving at a rather leisure pace. When the other person replied, he heard the soft, lilting tone. The gentle, almost unnoticeable brogue that only made itself truly known when the speaker was furious—which was often.
“I should put myself into the stream before they throw my lifeless corpse into it,” Thomas moaned. Alec grunted, grabbed the whiny bastard by the collar, and then tossed him in. His attention returned to the couple walking aimlessly along the stream, thinking he had outed himself.
He hadn’t.
The male barely lifted his head, but he saw the raven-haired head of his beautiful Blayne glance toward the commotion. Of course she was—his woman was smart. Attentive. Luckily, though he shot him a hard, furious glare, Thomas kept his head down as he floated peacefully down the stream. The words that he mouthed were plain as day, even if Alec couldn’t hear them.
He was definitely going to hear of this once he returned to the keep, but alas…he didn’t care. His attention was snared by the beauty of Blaine. The way a few errant strands had escaped the large braid down her back to flow in the wind. The way she kept her head down, gaze drawn to the grass she was gently sifting with her slipper…. The way she bit her lip before answering the man she was with.
She chose her words carefully, he thought, frowning. That was odd. His Blayne rarely thought twice about what she was going to say. She was a strong, capable woman who defended the things she believed in with the force of her being.
To see that she was being cautious?
It was disgruntling.
And alerted him that something was off in more ways than her speech. Maybe it was the way she carried herself. Or the way she was dressed. Or the way she kept glancing back at the keep and then the front of her body, the lines of worry etched in her pale features wherever she looked…
She was more in tune with her surroundings than even Alec was at this point, he suspected.
“I’m better, aye. Thank you for asking.” So short, he thought sadly. Her words came out so…short. Lifeless.
Unable to help his reaction to her apparent pain, he took a step forward. A twig snapped, and he froze. He wanted to run to her, to cradle her in his arms and tell her all was well—but he had no clue who the man standing next to her was, and he didn’t know who he’d piss off by killing him.
Blayne’s gaze snapped to his direction again, this time her eyes squinting. Still, the man she was with didn’t pay any mind. Nay, his attention was held by Alec’s woman.
If he had been an enemy, her life would have been in danger.
Red creeped into his vision. She could keep the company of a dolt, but ignored his missives?
He inhaled, praying for patience. He deserved the indifference, Alec told himself. He deserved this punishment.
…But to let her be with another man? Another man who didn’t bother to inspect a splash in the river? She deserved better!
The man beside her, unbeknownst to Alec’s presence and rising jealousy, reached for her shoulder.
“Something tells me that yer not telling the truth, but I won’t press ye’.” His hand, after the brief touch, dropped. Alec could have ripped his arm from his body and smacked the bastard’s head with it. The man chuckled. “How vexing is it that yer mother still presses a marriage between us?”
At that, a small, strained smile curled her plump lips—lips that he had kissed.
The red was no longer on the peripheral of his vision. Nay, it was creeping right into the cent
er, close to pushing him into action. That groping, sniveling boy was going to know what his own tongue tasted like when he was forced to swallow it.
Between the fury, a word the man had said jumped out at him.
A marriage?
Alec froze. Not just his body, but his heart.
She refused to marry him, but entertained the idea of marrying another?
Blayne must be truly over him. She must truly be so disappointed and disgusted with him that she was forgetting about him completely—so much so that she was entertaining a marriage with another man.
Alec backed away, keeping low. Outwardly, he retreated. Inwardly…his heart had already settled like a hard, cold rock at the bottom of his stomach.
Coming here had been a terrible idea. A terrible, horrible idea—and not just because he was faced with the fact that the woman he loved no longer wanted him, but because he had so foolishly thought that she would wait for him.
Once he was a good distance away and behind the fence, he rose.
The idea of looking at her one last time was painful, gut-wrenching. He had come here, expecting to at least be rejected to his face—hell, he had expected to go home without an arm or wrapped in his plaid. Neither had sounded like a good idea, but now…now, he wished it had ended that way.
The reality was much more harsh.
Swallowing down the pain that wanted to rise, he swept his hands down his front to wipe off the shrubbery, to wipe off all proof and thought that this had even happened.
He’d leave. In silence. He would let her find her happiness, even though she looked to be finding anything but. He would do this for her—and because he had failed them both.
Alec retreated into the forest. His horse had been left only a few paces away in the event that he’d have to make a quick escape. With his head down, a feeling he’d only ever felt one other time burned inside of him.
He had known disappointment.
He had known fear.
He had known pain, anger, and everything in between.
Because of Blayne, he had felt true happiness.
But this emotion that swept through him like the waves that crashed against the highland cliffs was overwhelming in a way he couldn’t describe. It was the same feeling he’d felt when he had watched the charred demon press the blade to her neck. It was that same feeling of thinking, there’s nothing I can do.