The Draig's Woman (27 page)

A scream startled his thoughts. Ian was on his feet with the dagger in hand before he could blink. Quickly, he realized the sound came from Claire and sheathed the weapon as he faced her. For a moment, the eye contact between them was the only thing that mattered, or it would have been if she could truly see. The effects of the herbs and dream were strong upon her bruised, swollen features and made Ian doubt she was truly awake.

“Claire, all is well, sweeting.”

Her lack of reply was to be expected, yet he could see her breathing slow as the dream loosened its hold. She strained to see who had spoken in the dim light.

“Ian?”

That she even questioned his presence and doubted that he sat by her side through all was one more shred of proof of all that stood wrong. “Aye, sweeting.” He gave her a moment to adjust as he left her side to fetch a drink. “Here now, drink. Neala left this for you in case you woke.” He smiled as she drank from the cup, secure in Neala’s belief that sleep, even if forced, would allow her body to heal.

The empty cup hit the floor as Claire cringed and fell back against the bedding, curled like a child. Unable to hide his panic, Ian demanded, “Where does it hurt, sweeting? I will fetch Neala.”

The strength in her voice, stopped him. “Don’t bother. She can’t do anything. She knows, Ian. Neala can’t help me.”

Grief was evident in her voice, and he crouched by the bedside as his hands stroked her bound hair. “Mayhap she can. If there is still pain, Neala should ken it.” Claire’s curled body spoke of the hurt as her hands held her stomach. “Mayhap the herbs have merely upset you. ‘Tis not an unheard of thing.” Ian questioned if he should have given her more.

“She knows . . . she knows.” Claire’s words trailed off, the strong drink blurred her voice. “She can’t do anything. I can’t do anything . . . can’t save him . . . the child . . . I dreamt of him. He has such beautiful green eyes . . .”

“All are safe here.” He was stunned that even with her wounds she fretted for Cerwyn. “The child is safe, sweeting, asleep in his bed. You are safe. I swear this to you. You are safe.”

“He’s all . . . that . . . I had left.”

The words in her herb-induced daze tore at Ian’s heart. Doing what he wished to do from the start, Ian climbed gently into bed with her. “Let me loosen you hair, sweeting. You will be more comfortable.” Grateful that she allowed this intimacy, he undid the simple braid. His fingers combed her hair loose as her body relaxed. He noted that Claire wore a shift in bed. “Would you prefer the shift removed?” Her whimper was mixed with anxiety when she answered, “No,” and Ian only lightly rubbed her arm. “Then I will leave it on you if the garment brings you comfort.” Once again Ian silently cursed Nolen for whatever he had done to leave Claire afraid to sleep as she preferred.

Mindful of her injuries, remembering where each hurt lay, he wrapped his body against her back and his arms around hers as Claire held her stomach. He ignored her body as it tensed against contact and waited for her to relax in his hold. Ian whispered in her ear. “I will make this right, sweeting. On the morrow, I ride to take back the mines as I should have from the beginning. When I return, we will begin again. One day without you by my side was more than I could bear. Together, Claire, you and I together are all that matter.” He offered his hand to the pain in her stomach and hoped the warmth would soothe her ache. “You are all to me. To say I love you is not enough. Every day I will strive to be the man you deserve. You are mine, sweet Claire, now and always.” Ian continued to give voice to the love in his heart and dreams for their future.

“Ian,” she murmured.

He felt peace as she finally found hers in quiet sleep.

Peace became joy as she tucked her head under his chin, once again seeking his warmth and protection. When the fingers of her uninjured hand wove with his, Ian knew bliss as he had never known. There was hope. Letting sleep wash over him, Ian slept with Claire tucked against him.

Part Three

“Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall.”

- Confucius

Chapter 27

Claire stared into the palm of her left hand and couldn’t help but wonder if the scar would fade. It wasn’t jagged, just red and ugly. She was thankful her hand still worked. She wasn’t quite able to make a fist without discomfort, but that, too, should become easier.
As for the rest of the cuts?
There were now only light marks on her legs and chest. She was confident that Neala was correct and these would disappear in time. Her vision was surprisingly good as new, and there were no lasting repercussions from the blow to the head.

Sitting by the cliffs, she stared at the sea and listened to the waves crash as she recalled the last six weeks. The first few days were still a blur in her mind and always would be. The one clear memory was of talking to Lachlan, then more of the herbs that stole consciousness and any hope of clarity. The dreams they brought had been painfully vivid: the battle with Nolen never-ending, Ian offering comfort while holding her, and dreams of the baby, the life she miraculously still carried.

My baby.
She placed a hand to her stomach, and the thought of the child brought a smile to her face. Neala was now convinced Claire would bring this child into the world and worry mixed with this joy. This was never the way she envisioned having a family. Alone and in the Dark Ages was a far cry from the fictional husband and quaint suburban home she had always pictured. She hoped that Hagan was right and that his clan would make a good home for them.

She wanted to get up and go look for Hagan. He was doing much better, out of bed and taking care of the matters there.
If he can run this clan, he can certainly take me to the Douglas keep.
She just wanted to leave, start fresh, and make plans for the future. More than anything, she wanted to avoid another scene with Ian. Being told to leave once had been more than enough. The stirring of her companion scattered her thoughts.

Mairi asked, “May we go inside now, Claire? The day is too hot for comfort.”

Mairi’s face was reddened with heat despite the breeze from the sea. “If that is what you wish, let’s go inside.”
Too hot?
Sure the sun is nice and warm. It must be near the end of July, but hot, never. Arizona was hot. Scotland simply is not.

Mairi offered a hand to help Claire from the ground. “You dinna stumble as much when you stand.”

“If I move slow, I’m fine.” Moving slowly, keeping calm, and breathing deeply were the things that kept the dizziness at bay. She hoped this was similar to morning sickness and would be a memory soon.

They spent every morning outside in “prayer.” The truth was she enjoyed Mairi’s company—no questions, little conversation, and just a quiet peace between them. Now that bathing was a regular activity for Mairi, her company was preferred.

“Why do you spend your mornings with me, Claire?” Mairi’s voice was still quiet when she spoke, but her thoughts were now more readily offered.

“You read my mind. I was just thinking how I enjoyed our quiet time together.” She offered a smile to her companion. “You spent all that time at my bedside praying for me and helping me, and you are a good friend.”

“Nay, Claire. You should nay say such things. I am from a disgraced family. My father . . . You suffered because of my clan.”

“We’ve been through this many times already, and none of what happened was because of you. You are not to blame for anything. Do you understand me?” Claire knew her voice had an edge as she spoke, but it was the only way to get Mairi to listen.

“What is to become of me?”

That was the question no one seemed to know how to answer and had never been asked by Mairi until now. Claire asked, “What do you want to happen to you?”

“I would be a nun. I would spend my days in prayer with other women.”

She wasn’t surprised by the answer, just by her companion’s ability to speak of it. “Very well then. I will tell Hagan. Honestly, it seems like the right thing to do.”

“My thanks. You could come with me, and we could spend our days together.”

The look on Mairi’s face contained such hope through squinted eyes. Somehow a pregnant nun didn’t seem appropriate to Claire, though Mairi didn’t know that part. She still thought it was a sweet offer, almost as sweet as the thought of home, but this was the one place Claire was unwilling to go even in her mind. The delusion of returning home was a fantasy too painful to ponder. The home she had started to build in Ian’s world was just one more shattered dream.

Cerwyn, who ran to latch onto Claire’s knees, abruptly ended the conversation and thoughts. “I find Larry!”

She scooped to pick up the child and noticed the arrival of Aliana and the other one, Dedre. The Campbell girl had stayed. Her father had left her there in too big a hurry to help Ian with his personal battle to bother taking her home.

It was obvious Aliana had been working, and the wet marks on her gown led Claire to believe laundry was in process. Her showing belly had not slowed Aliana down one bit, as she was constantly trying to make up for the time spent in bed. Dedre, on the other hand, never had mark from work on her, ever. She was always spotless, always dressed in her finest, and always told everyone else what needed to be done. Her blond hair, in its ridiculously long braid, hung to her thighs. Dedre was pretty, well spoken, and very spoiled.

Mairi began to mumble and shift nervously on her feet, disturbed by the other women. “I will go to my chamber now.” She left quickly without waiting for a reply.

“I dinna ken how you can stand her company, Claire. She is not right in her mind. Such a foul creature.” The disgust was obvious in Dedre’s voice.

This was the lack of compassion she had come to expect from Dedre. “Mairi is pleasant enough. She needs the fresh air. It’s good for her.” The other woman brushed imagined dirt from her skirt, as if being near Mairi would soil her gown.

“Still, she is foul. When is she to be removed from the Lady’s chamber? ‘Tis wrong that Mairi is still there.” A smile crossed Dedre’s lips. “It should be made ready for the future wife of the laird.”

Aliana broke in. “‘Tis best to leave Mairi be for now. She is comfortable and content, and since there is no other betrothal made, all is well.” Aliana’s discomfort of the conversation’s direction was more than clear.

The smile now took full hold on Dedre’s face. “If the men succeed at capturing the Draig’s rightful property, my father will see to it that there is one.” She took Aliana’s hand in her own. “We will be sisters. I will be here to manage the household so you can rest and prepare for your child.”

Claire did her best to ignore the rest: Dedre’s chatter about how to care for the keep, the gardens, and the children who would be cousins. Cerwyn’s voice broke into her thoughts. “Hungry, Larry. Eat now.”

Unable to ignore the child’s demands and thrilled for the excuse to leave, Claire said, “I’ll take him in for a bite, Aliana.”

Dedre added, “I will see to the midday meal and make certain all is ready for the men.” She headed toward the kitchens and left Aliana and Claire alone.

“Dedre speaks without knowledge. There is no agreement between my brother and Lachlan. You ken this.”

“I know this. But I think you forget sometimes that your brother sent me away.” Claire held up her hands to prevent Aliana from speaking. “It wasn’t for a while. I was asked to leave forever. There was no talk of anything else. Ian was in my chamber when I was awake talking to Lachlan, yet said nothing to me.” The anger started to rise in her voice. “Your brother wouldn’t even call me by name. There is nothing. It’s simply over. I need you to remember that.”

This was the demon that haunted her sleep and tormented her dreams. This was the injury that didn’t seem to fade. The hurt at being tossed aside was made worse daily by Dedre, and the woman’s confidence in her future was a constant slap in the face.

“Where is your husband? I need to speak with him.” Claire realized she was too angry as the dizziness crept back in.

“He rode out to check the herds. The men wished to speak with him.”

Hagan had recovered. Their conversation was now past due. “If you see him first, tell him I wish to speak with him, please.” Cerwyn again demanded food. “Let’s feed this one. Then we can see if the laundry is dry.”

“Stop giving me excuses, Hagan. If you can ride out to check the herds, then you can take me to your brother’s lands.” Claire’s voice was a bit too loud for the hall. While empty in the mid-afternoon, she knew the conversation could probably be heard by anyone nearby.

“My reasons are nay excuses. They are fact. I can nay leave the keep until Ian returns. Someone must remain in charge. Most of our men left with him, and we are but few fighting men should trouble arise. Would you have me leave my wife and child unguarded?”

“That’s not fair. You know how I feel about your family, but you promised me, Hagan. You promised you would get me out of here.” Claire knew how few men remained to protect the keep and the village, and she was also aware this could mean trouble if any type of attack came. Raiders were all too common this time of year, or so she had been told. The selfish part of her just wanted to go, to leave before Ian returned.

“Cousin, you have my word, as soon as they return, if you still wish, I will see you safely away. Besides, next time I wish to have a few men ride with us. No chances will be taken with your life or the one you carry.”

At the mention of the baby, Claire found her hand resting on her not-so-flat stomach. She knew the battle was lost and it would be wrong to leave if it placed those she loved in danger. Plus, the thought of warriors riding with her next time was a comforting thought. “We leave as soon as they return, swear it to me.”

Hagan moved her into the study and closed the door. “There are a few matters yet to settle before you leave.”

“Now what?” Claire asked with a snippy voice.

“Ian needs to be told.”

This was the conversation she knew was coming. Hagan had broached it once before, but she had feigned exhaustion during recovery and ended it. That trick wasn’t going to work again. “I know. I’m just not sure any good will come of it.”

“‘Tis his child. I dinna ken what will come of your talk but talk you must,” Hagan replied with a smile.

“Neala said Ian could take the child from me and no one would even try to stop him, that Ian could force him to come here to train when he is of age.”

“Neala speaks when she should keep silent. Claire, I will nay deny his rights to the child are there. Do you truly believe Ian would rip the child away from you?”

This is where the fear came from. “I don’t know what to expect any more Hagan. I never thought . . .” Some things were better left unsaid.

“Ian is a good man. Speak to him. Let him ken what is to be. I have faith the two of you will find a way.”

She chose to ignore his double meaning. She had already been offered a way once, and that had not worked out very well. “I promise I will tell him. Then we leave, agreed?”

“It pains me to see the lack of hope in your heart, but aye, Claire. I swear this to you.”

“Thank you. They have been gone a long time, over six weeks. At what point do you send someone to check on them?” She tried to convince herself she asked out of curiosity and not concern.

“Another week and I will send men to check for Ian and Lachlan.”

With an effort to focus elsewhere and then unable to stop, Claire looked over at the desk. The small pile scattered in the center caught her attention. “Is this your doing?”

“The rents were collected last week and the first of the wool was sold at market. You were right, a fine profit was waiting to be made. I just need to add this to the books.” He moved to the desk only to be stopped by Claire, who beat him to the chair.

“I’ve seen what you do to the books. This should be done correctly the first time.” She sorted the papers as Hagan laughed. Claire lost herself in the mess on the desk. “No one has bothered to update the stores of the kitchen or anything else.”

“If you wish the task, ‘tis yours. I have no love for such things.” Hagan tried to smother the smile.

The numbers offered a mental clarity long absent from her mind. “I didn’t spend all that time cleaning up the books to have you mess them up again.”

“I will fetch you for the evening meal, cousin. You can tell me how we fare then.”

“I’ll see you then.” She smiled at the use of the word “cousin.” She knew it was meant as an endearment. Then she lost herself in the clarity of the numbers.