Chapter 27
Summer filled the glen with meadowsweet and bluebells.
Still Sister Eve didn’t return.
Twice, against Carenza’s wishes, Hew had risked a visit to the village alehouse late at night, heavily cloaked and stooped to hide his size.
Yet he’d learned nothing about the king’s disposition or the status of the laird of Dunlop or what anyone imagined had become of that Rivenloch warrior with the axe.
Carenza wasn’t surprised. The men who exchanged gossip at a village alehouse were more likely to discuss the cost of bread and which neighbor was cheating on his wife than Scottish politics and nobles’ marriages.
But she didn’t mind. They’d transformed the byre into a home.
Meanwhile, summer ripened slowly into autumn.
The thistles in the glen flourished and faded.
Bilberries and blackberries swelled and sweetened.
Squirrels and hedgepigs and foxes had litters of young.
Woodland birds retired their songs and muted their colors.
And the trees changed out of their green gowns into shades of gold and scarlet that fluttered off like butterflies in the blustery wind.
Carenza’s body ripened as well.
At first, it was no great inconvenience.
While Hew worked from dawn to dusk, cutting peat for their cook fires, gathering berries, fishing, and fetching foodstuffs and linens, she could still care for the hens and prepare the daily pottage and oatcakes.
But now she was simply unwieldy. She could no longer see her feet.
Where in summer she might have skipped across the glen to gather bunches of wild garlic, the mere thought of trudging across the wet grass to admire the last persistent purple thistle was exhausting.
And she was always hot, despite the cool autumn weather.
This morn, however, when she waddled out the door, there was a strange stillness in the air and a chill that made her wrap her plaid tighter around her round belly.
Hew was already outside, scowling at the sky.
“It feels like snow,” she said.
He grunted.
“’Tis early yet,” she remarked.
Nonetheless, the clouds were thick and bluish-gray, and it did feel like they might begin sifting snowflakes onto the earth at any moment.
He turned then to look at her. And she saw his unspoken fear.
It was the same fear that had lurked in the back of her mind for weeks. The one she’d kept cloaked in denial. The one they hadn’t spoken about.
She could see now it was too late. The weather had turned. They’d never make it through the snow.
By her estimation, she would birth the bairn in a few fortnights. And if the snow started falling now, it could indicate a harsh winter where it might not melt until spring.
She’d foolishly hoped Sister Eve would return within the next fortnight with the approved document, to relieve them of their fugitive status and allow them to return home.
It had been her quiet wish to have their child at Dunlop—in the castle, on her feather bed, surrounded by the ladies of the clan—while Hew and her father drank ale and paced the great hall.
She’d imagined presenting the bairn to her father.
Dreamed of showing off the laird’s heir to the people of Dunlop.
Now that wouldn’t happen.
Her child would be born in a byre.
She wouldn’t have a midwife.
And they’d probably be on their own for the first several months of the bairn’s life.
Still, it wasn’t a completely abhorrent thought.
The Christ child had been born in a byre, after all.
Her husband could serve as a midwife. That undoubtedly frightened him more than it did her. But Carenza had delivered coos and lambs and piglets all her life. She knew what to do.
And as far as being on their own, it might be pleasant to be alone with her wee family, out from under the influence of grandparents with strong opinions.
It wasn’t ideal, but she could make do with this situation.
Even as she took a breath to assure Hew she would be fine staying in the byre, white flakes began to drift down between them.
Hew clenched his fists, as if priming to do battle with the elements.
“We need to go,” he decided abruptly.
No question. No discussion. No hesitation.
She blinked.
Hew had made up his mind when he’d first risen and stepped outside.
He knew by the stillness in the air. By the cold. By the color of the clouds.
Snow was coming.
For several moments before Carenza arose, he’d stared at the heavy heavens, torturing himself with self-blame and self-loathing.
He should have taken her home weeks ago.
How could he have been so selfish? So irresponsible? So determined to watch out for his own safety that he’d trapped his innocent wife with him? So intent on keeping her for himself that he would sacrifice her happiness for his own desires?
What kind of savage was he to keep his pregnant wife in a hovel like this?
And what kind of father was he to endanger the life of his child?
He’d been a fool to delay so long. Before, coming out of hiding had meant risking his arrest. Now it meant risking the lives of Carenza and their bairn.
But he could afford to delay no longer. They had to go, no matter the cost.
“Go?” Carenza asked. “Go where?”
“Dunlop,” he said, pushing past her to begin packing what they’d need.
“And risk the king’s wrath? And our arrest? Nay.”
“You needn’t worry. None of this was your fault,” he said, hauling out his largest satchel and stuffing it with wool plaids. “No one will blame you. Not your father. Not Gellir. Not the king. ’Twas all my doing.”
“This?” she exclaimed, cradling her belly. “’Twas most certainly not all your doing. I seem to recall givin’ ye little choice in the matter.”
Hew seemed to recall that as well. But no one else would believe that. And that was as it should be. Carenza was too pure of heart to be branded a fallen woman or a wanton. He was much better suited to take on the burden. Many already considered him a boorish lecher anyway.
Nay, he didn’t want to debate her.
“The hens will be safe enough inside,” he said, adding oatcakes and a jack of ale to the pack.
“Hew,” she said.
“We’ll have to leave most of the linens.”
“Hew.”
“And I don’t think we’ll have room for Sister Eve’s gown.”
“Hew! Stop!”
He paused, but he couldn’t meet her gaze. Couldn’t stomach the guilt he felt when he looked at her.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“What’s wrong?” he echoed ruefully.
He’d woken up. He’d realized it didn’t matter if the king condemned him. What was important was that Carenza was safe. Their bairn was safe. Dunlop’s heir was safe.
Maybe by some miracle, Sister Eve had been right. Maybe all had been forgiven. But even if that seemed unlikely, even if it meant risking his life, Hew still had to take the wager.
If the worst happened—if he was immediately seized and put into shackles, carted away to a royal prison, and executed as a traitor—his dishonor would be only a wee blemish on Rivenloch and a worthwhile sacrifice for Carenza and their bairn.
Carenza might grieve for a bit. But she’d have their child to warm her heart and the love of her clan to surround her.
She’d be free to marry again. Indeed, if Sister Eve never showed up, it would be as if she’d never been wed.
And a woman as perfect as Carenza—beautiful, sweet, kind, gentle, thoughtful, charming—would have men clamoring for her hand before Hew was cold in the ground, no matter whose child she named as heir.
As for Hew, he knew he would die a better man, just for the privilege of having spent this magical year with an angel.
He wasn’t about to tell her all that. She’d only argue with him. And they didn’t have time. The snow was falling fast now.
So he told her the most important part of the truth. The heart of it.
“The truth is I can’t bear the thought of losing you, Carenza.”
“Losin’ me? Ye’re not goin’ to—”
“If anything happened…” he choked out, shaking his head. “If something went awry… If I lost you… If we lost the bairn…”
“We won’t lose the bairn.”
“I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. I’d rather risk imprisonment than endanger the lives of my loved ones.” He clenched his jaw as a knot rose in his throat. “You can’t talk me out of it. So don’t try. I’ve made up my mind. And I won’t change it. I love you too much.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “Och, Hew. I don’t want to make ye suffer. I could ne’er cause ye distress. And God help me, I love ye more than—” She halted abruptly with a gasp and pressed a hand to her belly.
Hew’s heart plunged. The blood drained from his face.
Dear God, was she…?
This couldn’t be happening. Not here. Not now.
He held his breath and stared at her in horror for several agonizing heartbeats.
Finally, her face relaxed into a smile. “Just a kick.”
The tension shivered loose like chain mail off his back, leaving him suddenly weak and vulnerable. And he knew at that instant he was doing the right thing by taking her home to Dunlop.
Carenza had meant to change Hew’s mind. She’d intended to convince him they’d be fine staying in the byre. After all, this was her clan’s land. She knew it well. The snow had come unseasonably early. But it wasn’t the first time it had done so.
His fears weren’t completely unfounded, of course. Births didn’t always go according to plan. But she wasn’t near her time yet, and so far she’d been healthy.
She would have argued that the risk of arrest was no less now than it had been months ago. So it seemed unwise to turn up at Dunlop when they couldn’t be assured of a friendly welcome.
She’d intended to say all that.
But the moment she saw the sheer terror in his eyes and the pale cast to his face, she knew she couldn’t. Putting him through that kind of fear over the next days and weeks would have been cruel.
She had a sense he was right about the blame. If Carenza waddled up to the castle gates with the heir of Dunlop in her belly, no one would put her in shackles. And that gave her a certain leverage.
She rubbed her palm over her belly, calming the bairn.