Chapter 26
Ceana eventually turned to watch as Muriel crossed the room and pulled Oscar’s cloak off her shoulders before the door had swung shut.
“Put her in the chair.”
Oscar lowered Ceana onto it.
Muriel threw the wet cloak onto the table and then faced him. “Outside, Oscar. I need to ask yer wife private questions.”
His jaw tightened, and one hand remained on Ceana’s shoulder. “Is she hurt?”
“I am steady enough for Muriel to work,” Ceana assured him, briefly covering his hand with hers.
His fingers flexed beneath her palm before he withdrew them. He stepped out, closing the door as gently as he could. His boots carried him two paces down the passage and then stopped.
Muriel wrapped her in a dry blanket and pressed a cup of warm, honeyed water into her hands. She examined her eyes, studied the pallor around her mouth, then took her pulse.
“What happened before ye lost yer balance?”
“I was standin’ in cold water. Then Oscar kissed me.” Ceana tightened her grip on the cup. “Me husband has never understood moderation.”
Muriel’s mouth twitched. “I also noticed ye had to sit twice as we worked last week, but I didnae want to say anythin’ about it. Now I’m concerned. Is this somethin’ that has been happenin’ recently?”
“Risin’ has become difficult, even when I sleep deeply.”
“And yer appetite?”
Ceana glanced at the closed door. “Sometimes breakfast turns me stomach. There have been mornings when I pushed the food away.”
Muriel lowered her voice. “Do yer breasts feel sore or heavy?”
Heat crept up Ceana’s face. “Aye. I think I’m goin’ to have me courses soon.”
“When did they last come?”
“Before the weddin’. Long absences are ordinary for me, since I cannae bear children.”
Muriel’s eyes narrowed.
“Who told ye that?”
Ceana opened her mouth, but no answer came at first.
“Ye can tell me,” Muriel said, her voice reassuringly calm.
“I am the second daughter of a second daughter. Daphne was born only minutes before me. The women in me maither’s family spoke of the pattern all me life. When me courses came irregularly, I believed they were right.”
“Did any healer examine ye?”
“Nay.”
“Did ye ever have reason to believe that conception had failed? Were ye with any other man before me brother?”
Ceana’s fingers twitched around the cup. “Oscar is the only man I’ve been with.”
Muriel sat opposite her. “Bein’ born second doesnae reduce yer chances of conception, Ceana. Monthly courses arenae always regular, and a family tale cannae decide what yer body may or may nae do.”
She considered Ceana for another moment. “Yer courses have stopped, and this fatigue began before today. Food turns yer stomach, yer breasts are tender, and ye are pale and dizzy.” She leaned forward, her voice quiet but firm. “All of that points to one thing, Ceana—ye are with child.”
Ceana stared at her. The cup warmed her fingers, yet she could no longer feel it. One hand dropped from the cup and settled on her belly before she knew it. “What did ye just say?”
Muriel’s face softened. “Ye are carryin’ a child.”
For a minute, Ceana was stunned. Then a laugh broke past her lips, small and startled. Tears followed before she could take another breath. She set down the cup and placed her other hand on her belly, pressing both palms to the flat plane beneath her gown.
For years, she had pictured herself tucking Daphne’s children in their beds and returning alone to a chamber without a cradle. She had expected to remain the useful aunt while Daphne became a wife and mother. Now, all she could think of was Oscar on their wedding night.
She remembered his weight over her and his hand holding hers against the bed. She remembered the warmth of his seed inside her, then the care with which he had cleaned and covered her afterward.
“Me bairn,” she whispered.
Muriel waited while Ceana laughed through her tears and stroked the place that held nothing she could yet feel.
“Do ye want me to be with ye when ye tell Oscar?” Muriel asked.
Ceana shook her head. “Say nothin’ yet. Give me time to tell him meself.”
“Then I shall.”
Muriel helped her into dry clothes and made her take several careful steps before permitting her to leave.
Ceana opened the door to find Oscar standing where his boots had stopped, his wet clothes clinging to his rigid body. Mairi waited nearby with the recovered cloak, the map, and the signet ring.
“Tommy placed the ring in me keepin’ before the hunt, me Laird,” Mairi said. “The 0 means there are nay more hidin’ places. The children wanted ye and Her Ladyship to finish together.” She returned the ring to Oscar and placed the folded map in Ceana’s hands.
Oscar ran his eyes over Ceana’s damp face. “What is wrong?”
Ceana tightened her fingers around the folded map. “Let’s go to yer study.”
His eyes moved over her face once more before he offered his arm, and she accepted it. His hand closed around hers, while the other settled beneath her elbow as though one uncertain step might send her to the floor. She imagined taking his hand once they were alone and laying it over her belly.
“Did Muriel find an injury?” he asked.
“I’ll tell ye once we are in the study.”
He looked at her damp lashes, then adjusted his hold and guided her through the passage.
Ceana pressed the map to her side. If she attempted another sentence, the happiness inside her might escape as laughter or more tears.
Oscar opened the study door and waited until she had entered before closing it behind them.
The deed chest remained open. Their marriage contract lay inside it, her signature visible beneath his.
It felt almost like yesterday when she had first entered this room to bargain for a temporary place in his household.
Now she was carrying a child conceived after the bargain had become a marriage in truth.
Oscar moved in front of her. “What did Muriel say?”
Ceana crossed the space between them and took his hand. His palm was rough and cool from the lake water. “I am with child.”
He froze. The color drained from his face as his gaze dropped to her belly. He released her hand and stepped back until the edge of the desk caught him. One hand closed around the wood.
Ceana waited for him to look at her again. Her lips trembled around the smile she had carried from the surgery. She wanted him to understand, to come closer and touch the place where their child had taken root and would soon grow.
“Ceana, did ye lie to me?”
Her smile vanished.
What?
Ceana stepped away and covered her belly with one hand. Oscar released the desk and reached for her, though his arm stopped before his fingers crossed the space between them. His face tightened.
“Ceana, I…” His gaze returned to her belly. “How can Muriel be certain? Ye told me this couldnae happen.”
“I told ye what I believed. Ye heard the truth as I kent it.” She kept her voice level, though her fingernails pressed into the wool of her gown. “Nay healer has ever truly proved me barren, but I never had reason to ask them to. Muriel challenged what all of us had accepted.”
“Muriel may be mistaken.” Oscar gripped the desk again. “It is early. Time may prove otherwise.”
“She is a healer, is she nae? She believes I’m carryin’ yer child.” Ceana raised her chin. “I believe her.”
His eyes lowered once more as the hand at his side curled into a fist.
“What?” Paisley’s wrecked voice came from the door.
Ceana spun around. The curtain shifted aside, revealing Paisley pressed against the stone behind the slightly open door. Her face was pale, and her eyes were fixed on Oscar.
“Paisley, what are ye doin’ here?” Oscar asked, the shock plain on his face.
“Tommy came because he wanted to ken whether Ceana was well,” Paisley choked out. “I meant to take him away, but… we heard ye.”
Tommy appeared behind her, holding tightly to her sleeve.
Her mouth quivered. “Ye promised there would be nay other bairns. Ye promised we wouldnae lose Ceana.”
Tommy leaned around her. “Is the bairn goin’ to take her away?”
Ceana crossed toward them at once, extending both hands. “Come here. The bairn has done nothin’ wrong.”
“Paisley,” Oscar said, pushing off the desk.
Paisley bolted out the door before either of them could reach her. Tommy followed immediately, one hand reaching for her dress as they disappeared into the passage.
Ceana started after them, then stopped at the threshold. Oscar had halted several feet behind her. Why did the children think she was going to die?
“They think I am goin’ to die because I am with child? What in God’s name did ye tell them?”
“I was tryin’ to make Paisley feel safe.”
Ceana pointed down the empty passage. “Does she look safe now?”
Oscar’s mouth tightened again. “I never meant for either of them to hear this.”
“They heard enough.” She faced him fully, keeping her hand on her belly. “I want this bairn, Oscar. I willnae apologize for wantin’ me own child.”
“Ceana.”
“I daenae want to ruin the life ye built for Paisley and Tommy. If me pregnancy threatens that life, I will go back to Morrag. Me parents will care for me there.”
“Ye arenae leavin’.” His voice rang across the study. Before she could respond, he took one step closer and stopped. “Ye lost yer balance today. The roads are wet, and ye have Muriel here. I willnae allow ye to endanger yerself.”
“Ye cannae accuse me of deceit and then decide where I must carry me child.”
“Our child,” he corrected her.
“Then tell me ye want it, Oscar. Tell me ye want me to give birth to this child. Tell me right now, and I willnae leave.”
His mouth opened, but no answer came. He looked toward the doorway where Paisley and Tommy had vanished, then back at her. His fingers flexed beside his thigh.
“I want ye alive.”
She could see the care beneath his roughness, but it wasn’t enough.
It wasn’t enough that he had carried her through the castle in wet clothes because dizziness had frightened him.
It wasn’t enough that all he wanted was her.
It wasn’t enough that, if she stayed, she would be seen only as a risk to herself and her child.
It wasn’t enough that she would receive such sentiments from her husband for the next seven months.
The culmination of those thoughts suddenly made the study—no, the entire castle—too small for her to breathe.
“Wantin’ me alive doesnae mean ye want our child.”
“I need time,” Oscar said. “Let me see to Paisley and Tommy. We will speak again when they are settled.”
The walls closed in on her as she moved again. “Take whatever time ye need. I will spend it at Morrag.”
His eyebrows drew low. “Ceana, ye cannae decide this while ye are upset.”
“I will leave at first light.”
She brushed past him. He reached for her arm, but she drew it away before his hand made contact. His fingers closed on empty air. It didn’t stop him from following her down the passage.
“The road to Morrag is too dangerous, considerin’ yer condition,” he reasoned. “Muriel has only just examined ye. Ye shouldnae travel before she has seen ye again.”
Ceana made for her chamber. She entered and closed the door before he could follow, then slid the bolt into place.
“Ceana.”
She pulled the traveling chest from the foot of the bed and lifted its lid. The gowns she had brought from Morrag went inside. She left the MacKane finery hanging in the wardrobe, untouched.
“Open the door,” Oscar called through the door. “We have to talk.”
Ceana gathered Daphne’s letters from the chest at the foot of the bed. The blue ribbon with its scorched edge remained folded among them. She then placed the bundle in the chest.
“Ceana,” Oscar called again. “I shouldnae have asked ye that.”
The door shifted beneath the weight of his palm. She could remember vividly how he had slammed her against it.
No, she wouldn’t lose focus now. She wouldn’t be the reason another wave of sadness descended over MacKane. If her absence would restore that, then she would leave.
“Ceana, please.”
She did not answer.