CHAPTER 12 #2
“Alex, on the other hand, was once so full of fun and fire, we used to wonder how the rascal would ever learn to behave himself when he was laird,” she said, her mouth curving in a soft smile.
“Whether with women or hunting or battle, he followed his own pleasures, giving no thought to the consequences. The clan was relieved when Flora finally captured his heart. She brought out the more responsible side of Alex, while still fanning the flames of his passion.” She sighed.
“Unfortunately, when she died, Flora took part of Alex with her. He fell into a madness from which we feared he would never emerge—and he never really did. When he finally was lucid again, the passionate young man we had known was gone, replaced by someone who seemed incapable of any emotion but anger.”
Gwendolyn closed her eyes, her heart aching as she recalled the magnificent passion that had raged between them last night.
“You don’t want to leave,” Morag observed.
Gwendolyn opened her eyes and regarded her steadily. Although she didn’t believe Morag could see the future, it was clear the woman was uniquely perceptive. “I must.”
Morag considered this a moment. “At least you feel you must, and that, I suppose, is all that matters.”
“Robert will not rest until he has me,” Gwendolyn explained. “And when he returns, he will be far more brutal. If I stay, I will fulfill Elspeth’s prophecy of bringing death and destruction to the MacDunns.”
“Nonsense!” Morag waved her hand dismissively.
“You have listened to the foul accusations of others for so long, you are starting to give them power over you.” Her expression grew contemplative.
“You must look at yourself, Gwendolyn, but do not use your eyes. Only then will you be able to see clearly.”
“I cannot stay, Morag,” Gwendolyn said, her voice laden with regret.
Morag regarded her a long moment. And then she nodded. “Very well. But there is one matter you must attend to before you go. A promise to a friend in need cannot be broken.”
“If you mean my promise to help Clarinda birth her child, I cannot possibly keep it,” Gwendolyn told her apologetically. “I must leave before the storm breaks, so that Robert cannot—”
“Gwendolyn, come quickly!” pleaded Isabella, bursting into the room. “Clarinda’s birthing pains have started, and that horrible Elspeth is at her bedside insisting that she will deliver the child!”
Gwendolyn grabbed her skirts and raced out the door.
“Go away!” screamed Clarinda as she writhed in pain. “I don’t want you near me!”
“If I leave, your child will die,” Elspeth said coldly, knotting a length of rope to one of the posts at the foot of the bed. “Is that what you want, foolish girl?”
“Cameron,” whimpered Clarinda, her voice barely more than a sob, “please make her go away. Please!”
“Cameron is in a far better state to be sensible than you are,” said Elspeth, casting him a warning look through the hot, dark room.
“He knows I have birthed more bairns in this clan than anyone else, and that he should not interfere in a female matter he cannot possibly understand. Not if he wants his child to live.”
Cameron raked his hand through his hair, torn by his beloved wife’s suffering and the undeniable weight of Elspeth’s experience.
“Don’t touch me!” screamed Clarinda, flailing wildly as Elspeth tried to grab her ankle. “Don’t you dare touch me!”
“For the love of God, Elspeth, must you tie her down?” asked Cameron.
“All this thrashing about is doing grave injury to the bairn,” Elspeth informed him curtly.
“We’ll be lucky if it isn’t dead already.
I can’t imagine a mother being so sinfully selfish.
Now hold her while I secure her to the bed.
” She grabbed Clarinda’s ankle and began to twist the rope tightly around it.
“Take your hands off her, Elspeth,” commanded Gwendolyn, barely able to contain her rage. “Now.”
“You have no business here, witch,” declared Elspeth, moving to secure Clarinda’s other leg. “This unborn child will not belong to you or the devil you serve. Begone!”
“Gwendolyn,” mewled Clarinda pitifully, “don’t leave me.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Clarinda,” Gwendolyn assured her, hurrying over to the bed. “We have a bairn to birth—remember?” She took hold of Clarinda’s sweating hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
“You cannot stay,” snapped Elspeth. “I won’t allow it.”
“You’re mistaken, Elspeth,” Gwendolyn responded, her voice as hard as steel. “It is you who isn’t staying.”
Elspeth continued to lash Clarinda’s other swollen ankle to the bed. “If I leave, this child will die, for God will not absolve the sins of the mother—”
“Get out!” Gwendolyn cried, still holding Clarinda’s hand. “Take your ropes and your vile threats and leave this chamber at once or I will cast a spell that will turn your evil tongue into a slithering snake!”
Elspeth raised her hand to her mouth and stared at her in shock, suddenly unsure. “I will speak to MacDunn of this,” she warned, speaking through her fingers.
“Do so,” Gwendolyn said. “And I will tell him how you take pleasure in terrorizing helpless women as they suffer during birth!”
Elspeth cast her a long look of undiluted loathing.
And then, her hand still shielding her mouth, she turned and fled the room.
“That was wonderful!” exclaimed Isabella, who had entered the chamber with Gwendolyn. “Although I must confess, I would have enjoyed seeing her tongue change into a snake. Do you suppose it might have slithered out and bitten her on the nose?”
“Isabella, would you kindly fetch Marjorie and Lettie?” asked Gwendolyn, her voice deliberately bright as she gently untied the cords binding Clarinda’s ankles.
“Tell them we are going to need their assistance, as they have some experience in this business of childbearing—and ask them to bring whatever they feel we will need.”
“Why don’t you just use your powers to take the bairn out?” Isabella asked.
“I think it is better to let this wee life appear naturally,” Gwendolyn explained. “But I have never assisted at a birth before, and I would like Marjorie and Lettie to help.”
“I will help as well,” Isabella volunteered as she headed toward the door. “I won’t be long.”
Clarinda regarded her friend with tear-filled eyes. “Thank you, Gwendolyn. For a moment I was so afraid—”
“Hush, now, Clarinda.” Gwendolyn brushed a silky lock of hair off Clarinda’s forehead. “Everything is going to be just fine. My word, it’s hot in here—Cameron, would you kindly open the windows?”
“It’s still storming outside,” Cameron pointed out, “and Elspeth said the room must be kept very warm—”
“I hardly think it can be good for either Clarinda or your bairn to inhale this awful smoke,” Gwendolyn said. “Does it bother you, Clarinda?”
Clarinda nodded. “It’s making me feel sick.”
“There, you see? Come, now, Cameron, a little fresh, rain-washed air will do us all a world of good. And see if you can’t take that fire down a bit,” she added, glancing at the blazing hearth. “One would think we were preparing to roast a stag in here!”
Cameron obediently opened the windows, releasing a sweet gust of moist, grass-scented air into the chamber. The wind had eased slightly, so that no rain came into the chamber, but instead thrummed soothingly against the stone exterior of the castle.
“That’s much better,” Gwendolyn declared. “Now, then, Clarinda, how do you feel?”
“I feel better. I would like to get up.”
Gwendolyn frowned in confusion. Just a moment earlier Clarinda had been thrashing about in complete agony. “Really?”
“The pain is gone, and it won’t be back for a little while,” Clarinda told her with relative certainty. “I would like to walk a little before the next pain comes.” She began to sit up.
“No, Clarinda,” Cameron objected. “Elspeth said you mustn’t move. You must lie still and wait for the bairn to come.”
“I don’t want to lie still. I want to get up. I think I will feel better if I walk a bit.” She eased her legs over the side of the bed.
“Gwendolyn, tell her to get back into bed,” said Cameron, searching for an ally.
Gwendolyn considered a moment. “You’re not planning to run up and down the corridor or go leaping about, are you, Clarinda?”
“Of course not. I just want to walk.”
“Well, there, you see, Cameron? I can hardly see how a gentle stroll could do either Clarinda or the bairn any harm.”
“She needs to rest,” Cameron told her firmly.
“I’m not tired,” Clarinda protested impatiently.
“But you will be,” Cameron assured her. “You must rest now for the long and painful suffering ahead—”
“Thank you, Cameron, for sharing your opinion with us,” Gwendolyn interrupted.
“But since it is Clarinda who is going to birth this bairn, I think that if she feels better sitting up, or walking, or standing on her head, then that is what she should do.” She helped Clarinda to her feet, then wrapped her arm around her friend’s back and began to walk across the chamber with her.
“You shouldn’t be doing this, Clarinda,” Cameron said sternly.
“And when you’re the one giving birth, I’ll be certain to tell you all about how you should do it,” Clarinda retorted. “Now, why don’t you go and train with the other men in the great hall while Gwendolyn and I take care of things here?”
Cameron’s red brows rose in disbelief. “You want me to leave?”
“Gwendolyn will call you when we need your assistance. Won’t you, Gwendolyn?”
“Aye,” promised Gwendolyn, having no idea what, exactly, Cameron would be needed to do. “I will.”
Cameron looked unconvinced. “You’re certain?”
“I’m certain,” Clarinda assured him. “Now that Gwendolyn is here, everything is going to be fine.”
“Very well.” He stood in front of his wife and tipped her chin up. “But you are to have Gwendolyn call me the moment you need me—is that understood?” Without waiting for an answer, he bent low and gave her a long, gentle kiss.
“Everything is going to be fine this time, my love,” whispered Clarinda softly. “I can feel it.”