Song of the Highlands: The Cambels (The Medieval Highlanders) (35 page)

Morgunn’s eyes narrowed on Robert and he
gave her a curt nod. “Aye, except my son-in-law has more brawn than
stealth.”

If ‘twere anyone else other than his wife’s
father who uttered such a challenge, Robert would have thrashed him
where he stood. Instead, he sucked his cheeks between his teeth and
kept silent. He did position himself in his best warrior stance,
however, crossing his arms over his chest, spreading his feet apart
and glaring back at him.

Morgunn stepped toward him and it didn’t
pass Robert’s notice that he had a swagger in his step as he did
so. “You’ve lost too much of your Highland instincts, I trow.
You’ve been too long at court, playing at war, instead of living
it.”

“Not so long I couldn’t vanquish an old man
like you, if I wanted.”

“Enough!”

Both men whipped their gazes to Gwynlyan.
She moved from around Morgunn and stood between the two. “We’ve
plans to make, and not more than an hour’s time to do it.” She took
hold of her husband’s arm and pressed him to move closer to Robert,
then motioned for them both to follow her to a place under a tree
where they could all sit.

Within that hour, and by the next dawn,
their plans were set in motion.

A Belief Erroneous

“
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the
mind,

And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.”

A Midsummer Night’s Dream (Act I, Scene i)

“
For love is blind and may noght se

Forthi may no certeinete

Be set upon his jugement”

Confessio Amantis (Incipit Liber Primus, 1.47 –
1.49)

R
OBERT CREPT INTO his bedchamber, the bedchamber he’d
abandoned one night past to give Morgana the solitude she needed to
rest and regain her strength, and made short, silent work of
doffing his clothes before sliding into bed beside his sleeping
wife.

Within mere moments, the clean, womanly
scent of fresh flowers and sunshine invaded his nostrils,
intoxicated his mind, swept across his heart, and made his loins
tense with need. She’d bathed and washed her hair, and every muscle
in his body screamed for him to pull her to him, wrap her silken
limbs around his hard, scarred frame, and take her, fill her up
with his seed, give her another son to grow there in her womb.

Yet, he could not.

Fear screeched through his middle, making
his pulse pound.

He’d nearly lost her.

And, it had only been two days.

And he could not have her heavy with his
child again while the uncle and his minions plotted against
them.

He’d not risk it.

Rolling to his side, he stuffed a pillow
behind his back as barrier between him and the temptation resting
next to him. If ‘twere not for the other danger to Morgana, for
which he must keep her in his sights, he’d quit the chamber, find
his rest in another part of the keep.

Closing his eyes and taking in long, slow
breaths, Robert at last began to drift into a restless sleep.

* * *

Morgana bit down hard on her trembling lip.
Tears trickled from the corner of her eyes and she squeezed her
lids shut, pushing the moisture free, then surreptitiously used the
edge of the linen sheet to dry her cheeks.

He’d not even touched her. Not a peck on the
cheek, not a gentle brush of the fingertips to her hair, not a
stroke of the palm o’er her hip. Naught. And what new agony was
this that he was so repulsed by her that he had to place a barrier
between them to sleep?

Did he hate her now? Mean
to punish her?
She hadn’t thought so
earlier, but now she wondered if ‘twas truth. Was that why she’d
been hurried back to their bedchamber earlier in the day, prisoned
here with a stoic, stern-faced guard at her door, and refused the
request to have Modron brought in to her, to comfort her, to give
her more of the words of solace she craved, more answers to the
questions she still had regarding Modron’s loss of her own unborn
babes?

She heard more than felt the slide of his
foot against the linen sheet and it snatched her breath as hope
surged. But when naught more than a bleak quiet enshrouded their
marriage bed once more, with a valley of cold air between them too
wide to cross, Morgana covered her face with both hands and
silently sobbed into her pillow.

Aye, it must be so. For, he’d not visited
her all day. Not once. Not since she’d told him she’d lost his son,
and he’d offered to give her another to replace him.

Aye, ‘twas truth, that at the time he’d
proposed the notion, she’d been hurt by the seeming callousness of
his response to the loss of their babe. But now, after hours of
doing naught but thinking about that short time during and after
the grievous blow they’d taken, she knew that ‘twas merely Robert’s
own manly need to fix what was wrong or broken that made him
proffer such.

And even tho’ she had little to no desire to
make another babe with him this soon after the loss of the
other—assuming she could even carry one to childbed without her
body expelling it again much too soon, the thought of which brought
on a new terror and turmoil in her chest—still she craved his arms
about her, the comfort of his muscular chest beneath her cheek, the
warmth of his skin, the bristle of his unshaven chin upon her
forehead.

Where had he been so late
into the night?
With Vika?
The thought came unbidden, but once it came, it
took hold of her imagination like a hungry wolf to the neck of its
prey and would not let go. She knew—she’d heard—that Vika was
feeling well enough again to leave her chamber and take some air
out in the garden, that she’d even come down to break her fast this
very morn.
Had Robert joined her?
A spike of jealousy pierced her heart, followed
by anger, followed by hurt.

Morgana bit down hard on
the side of her finger. Had Vika been told that Morgana had lost
Robert’s babe? Tho’ she loved her cousin dearly for all the care,
the guidance, the liberal acceptance she’d given her at court—and
even for the gift of Robert she’d given her—Morgana still could not
stem the worry that, now that Vika was heavy with Robert’s
babe,
and now that Morgana was
not
, Vika would begin to see the benefit
of a wedded alliance with the man. Especially, as he no longer
needed her fortune for his clan.

And there was no
doubt—
no doubt
—that Robert and Vika shared a passion for the other. Mayhap,
even stronger than that which, until by the proof of this long day,
and this long lonely night, Morgana and Robert had
shared.

In that moment, Morgana
made a decision: From this day forth, she would watch very closely
the two of them. She would watch the two of them, and she would
also test Robert’s desire for her, his wife.
And if my fears prove right?
She
stifled a moan. She would fight for him, then! Surely, what they’d
shared before...before...they would find again! And, she would
remind him of just that, with her body, and with her loving care of
him.
But what if the madness returns? What
if this thing that is wrong with you also means you cannot bear his
bairns? What then? Will you force him to foreswear the begetting of
legitimate sons? Will you pay no heed to his begetting of bastard
sons with another, even if he does return to bedding you, even if
he does not?
She recalled the night of her
wedding, recalled her thoughts, recalled her promise to herself
that she would meekly allow Robert’s faithlessness to her, meekly
allow his bedding another, but that was before, before the bond had
grown too strong to break so easily. Morgana buried her face in the
pillow, clenching her fist around the cushioned edge and silently
sobbed. The words of Ma dame Aliénor floated through her
mind:
“Love is not jealous, or proud,
Morgana, ‘tis generous and kind.”

Rolling onto her back and
resting her hands, one atop of the other, under her breasts, she
took in a ragged breath. Aye, love was generous, love was kind. And
she loved Robert. She would not covet what she could not have. So,
if her fears were proved right, if Robert spurned her, but desired
the company and attentions of her cousin, Vika, then she would
try—she
would!
—to
not stand in the way of their happiness, nor their ability to wed
before Vika’s babe was born, thus making it a legitimate bairn to
the Laird of the MacVie clan.

With that troubling, yet noble resolution
made, Morgana swept in a deep, calming breath, allowed her swollen
lids to droop o’er her stinging eyes, and, on the slow exhale,
drifted into an uneasy slumber tinged with heartache.

* * *

“
Pater noster, qui es in
caelis...”

Robert jerked awake, eyes wide, but
unfocused on the pitch dark of night surrounding him.

“
...Sanctificetur nomen tuum—”

He rolled over and faced his wife, her
shadowy form upright, and listened to the lovely sounds of her
singing. It both enchanted and worried him.

“
Et ne nos
inducas—
Mama! Mama!” Her voice was
high, that of a bairn. She extended her hand in the
darkness.

Robert sprung up and reached for her, but
she lurched away.

“Do not hurt her!” She covered her face with
her hands. “Nay!”

Robert would not, could not, let her be. He
wrapped his arms around her and she surprised him when, instead of
further combat, she curled into his body, as a bairn would, with
her damp cheek against his chest.

“Papa, where did you go? You must save Mama
from that evil man!” She pressed her nose into the center of his
chest and dug her nails into his forearm. “He hurt her, Papa! He
made her lip bleed and he—he got on top of her! She made me cover
my eyes and...,” Morgana yawned, and the next word Robert barely
caught, “...sing….” His wife went limp in his embrace and after a
moment, he gently settled her head on the pillow once more.

‘Twas several more hours, not long before
dawn, that Robert’s mind at last quieted and he was able to again
close his eyes and get a short bit more sleep.

* * *

Later that morn, Morgana woke to find Robert
sitting on the edge of the bed beside her, staring down at her with
drawn brows and silver-grey eyes that had lost their sheen. Her
pulse sped as she rolled to her back and gazed up at him, waiting
for what e’er he might impart. For, ‘twas evident that something of
grave import weighed heavy on his mind.

“You slept well?” he said at last.

She nodded.
Why does he grip his hands? Can he not bear to
touch me?

“You sang in your sleep again.”

Something close to panic rose in her breast,
nearly choking her. She gave a jerky nod.

“Morgana—” He reached out a hand as if he
would take hers, then evidently thought better of it, for instead,
it descended to grip his other one once again. She watched his eyes
move o’er her face in the long pause that followed before he at
last continued, saying, “Morgana, you spoke. This night past, you
spoke. You spoke, I believe, about what happened to you, to your
mother and father that day.”

Morgana’s gorge shot up into her throat and
she pushed him away, scrambled from the bed, barely made it to the
bowl on the washstand before the bile in her empty stomach spewed
forth. When she lifted up again, she was startled to find Robert
directly behind her, so close her backside pressed into his groin,
her shoulders grazed his warm chest. His heavily muscled forearm
came into her peripheral view and a dry towel gently swiped across
her mouth and cheeks, while his other hand poured some water into
the pewter cup on the stand. ‘Twas the closest to a comforting
embrace she’d received from him since the night she lost their
babe.

After she rinsed the sour taste from her
mouth, after she’d swallowed down a small portion of the water to
ease the sting in her throat, and after he’d walked with her back
to the bed and settled her there once more, he said, “So, you do
recall what happened that day?”

The same vague images that had attempted to
force themselves into her mind that first day of Vika’s arrival
tried to lodge there again, but the clawing dread the images caused
made her gasp for air, and they quickly fled again.

Somewhere on the edge of her consciousness,
she knew Robert had leapt to his feet, had called her name, had
taken hold of her shoulders, but all she could do was paw at her
throat, at her gaping mouth, in an attempt to draw in a breath. Hot
tears stung her cheeks, but ‘twas not until his strong arm braced
her back, until a cool cloth touched her forehead and face that the
inner turmoil calmed and she was once again able to suck air into
her lungs.