Reckless by Hannah Howell

13

“Jaime?” Ailis whispered, certain that she could hear someone approaching her hiding place in the rocks.

She briefly thought of straightening up to peer over the rocks, but firmly resisted the urge. Whispering her companion’s name was risky enough. She did not want to chance revealing herself to her enemies. Ailis just wished it were drier and warmer. For three long days the weather had varied from damp to deluge and back again. Another of far too many shivers rippled through her, and she huddled deeper into her damp cloak, finding little added warmth there. Her back was beginning to ache with a worrisome regularity.

“Jaime?” she whispered again, hating her cowardice, yet terrified of being alone and too pregnant to protect herself.

“Here, mistress.” Jaime crept behind the rocks and sat down beside her. “I didna mean to leave ye here alone for so long.”

“Nay, I beg your forgiveness for being such a weakling that I tremble when left alone.”

“There is no shame in that. Ye ken your own weaknesses. Ye arena in any condition to protect yourself. I shouldna like to be so vulnerable, so unable to fight.” He patted her hands where they lay tightly clenched together in her lap.

“Did ye find anything? Any sign of MacCordys or MacFarlanes?” She had an urge to get moving again, stillness only adding to the discomfort of being damp and cold. “Can we continue on now?”

“Well, there are signs that there is someone behind us, although I canna be certain they are following us. They could be coming this way for other reasons.” He frowned when she sat up straighter and rubbed at her lower back. “Are ye all right?”

“Aye, fair enough. What other reasons?” Ailis began to have a bad feeling about the root cause of all her discomfort.

“They could be MacCordy men riding to warn Malcolm MacCordy,” he murmured.

Ailis tensed, then stared at Jaime. “Sir Malcolm? Sir Malcolm resides near here?”

“He does. If ye sit up more and look to the north, ye can see his peel tower through the mists.”

“Jaime!” She awkwardly turned and raised herself up onto her knees to look out only to discover that he spoke the truth. “Why have we come here, so near to the enemy we are fleeing?”

He grimaced and rubbed a hand over his rain-chafed face. “I had meant to be farther west of here by now, but I changed my mind last evening. I decided that ye needed a place to rest, some place safe to seek shelter.”

“Safe? A MacCordy keep? Are ye mad? And why do ye think I need a place to shelter? I am fine.”

“Nay, ye arena fine. I can see it in your face, in the way you move.”

“Well, mayhaps I am not perfect, but I can make it to Rathmor.”

“Not as ye are now. Ye are weary, cold, wet to the skin, and shudder until your teeth chatter. A good fire would help ye a great deal, but we canna build one out here. It could lead our enemies to us, and ‘tis too wet anyway. Ye need to get in out of this cursed weather for a wee rest.”

“But at Sir Malcolm’s? He is a MacCordy. We canna trust him to help.”

“We can trust him to want to keep ye and the bairn safe. We ken that already.”

“Well, aye, ‘tis why he put himself between me and Donald. However, I wasna trying to flee. In fact, he gave me no aid the one time I might have had a chance to run, to flee with the MacDubhs when they rescued Alexander.”

She watched Jaime frown, and then he stared at her steadily. He was trying to think of an argument that would get her to turn to Malcolm for more help. The thought of even one night indoors—dry and warm and on a soft bed—was intensely alluring, but she had to resist it. One act of kindness and chivalry did not make Malcolm a man that she could wholeheartedly trust. She had a chance to reach Rathmor, and she was not about to put that at risk.

“I am certain there are MacCordy men about looking for us,” said Jaime. “That will mean another night out here—with the damp and the cold. Is this where ye want to bear your child?”

“What do ye mean? I am not ready to give birth,” she insisted, but as she rubbed her lower back, she suddenly knew that she was or would be very soon.

“I think ye are. Even if ye arena there is still the fact that your color isna good, ye clearly have many an ache and pain, and ye are dangerously chilled. Put your fears aside and think on your bairn. This isna good for it.”

She sat down, huddled in her cloak. Jaime was right. The shivers she cursed were more virulent, but she had suffered them for most of the day. One of the biggest reasons to risk herself and her child in an escape was because it had offered her child the best chance of survival. Now she had to make the same choice again.

For a moment she forced herself to concentrate on how she felt—besides cold and wet. Her backache was vaguely dissimilar to the ones she usually got at the end of the day, and she had suffered this all day long. That was a sign she knew she should not ignore. Her child had also ceased to move, something he had done with consistent vigor since the day she had felt the first kick. There were no easily recognizable contractions, but she knew that did not mean that she was not in labor already. One glance around her told her the utter unsuitability of the place for childbearing. There was no real shelter from the cold or the constant damp or from their enemies. She could easily be caught out in the open in the most vulnerable of positions. She needed a dry place to hide, and Jaime was right—if Malcolm would agree to help, it was much better to be inside.

“We could lose all we have gained,” she finally said.

“Aye, we could.” Jaime grimaced as he looked toward Malcolm’s peel tower. “He is a MacCordy after all.”

“Well, we shall just have to risk it and hope that his distaste of abusing a woman with child carries over to the bairn itself.” She started to stand up and readily accepted Jaime’s helping hand. “We may have discovered the limits of Malcolm’s loyalty to his kinsmen. ‘Twould be foolish of us not to take advantage of that.”

“He has never been the brutish sinner his cousins have been. However, one ought to be wary of trusting him too easily.”

“Very true. I also think that there is a part of Malcolm that takes some pleasure in working against his cousins and, in such a way that they could look poorly or foolish if they chided or punished him for it.” She hesitated a little when Jaime started to lead her toward Malcolm’s peel tower. “I could be wrong.”

“So, we stay?” Jaime frowned at her, his expression reflecting the confusion he felt.

“Ah, poor Jaime, trapped out in the rain with a woman who canna decide whether to go or to stay.” She started to walk toward Malcolm’s tower. “I have made the decision. I was just a wee bit slow to act upon it. Let us pray that Malcolm will help us and willna demand too high a price for his aid.”

 

“Malcolm, I think ye had best come into the kitchen.”

Malcolm looked up from the fire he idly poked at to frown at the young Giorsal, the woman who took care of his meager household. He idly wished that the few guards his uncle had granted him were even half as efficient. After stuffing themselves on another of Giorsal’s excellent meals, the men sent to help him protect his tower house were undoubtedly curled up in their beds or crouched over a pair of dice. They were certainly not where they should be—out in the cold rain watching for an army. Malcolm took a deep breath and tried not to allow his annoyance with the rest of his shoddy staff to be wrongly directed at Giorsal.

“The kitchens?” He smiled faintly. “Ye dinna truly expect me to go down to the kitchens.”

“ ‘Twould offend your manhood, would it? Do ye think I wish ye to help me churn some butter or the like?”

“I think ye grow most impertinent. What possible reason could I have for going into the kitchens?” He frowned when she looked around, then edged closer to him. “Such tiptoeing isna needed, Giorsal. We are alone.”

“But alone enough not to be overheard?” she whispered.

He looked into her dark gray eyes and was puzzled by the secrecy and the hint of fear he could see there. The girl was acting very oddly. Nonetheless, he felt the pinch of alarm.

“And what might they ‘overhear’?” he asked, keeping his own voice low.

“That ye had best come to the kitchens to meet the guests who have just slipped inside.”

“Guests?” He tensed. “What guests? There was no alarm called, none of my men announced any people.”

“Those men your uncle gave ye are not worth the pallets they sleep on. No one is watching. These people slipped into the keep without once being challenged. If they were enemies, I should have been sprawled over my stewpot with my throat cut.” She hurried after Malcolm as he strode toward the kitchen. “However, these people are no threat to us.”

“How can ye be certain of that?” he demanded as he drew his sword.

“As easily as ye will as soon as ye face them.”

Giorsal cursed softly when Malcolm stepped into the kitchen, then stopped so abruptly that she walked into him. She slipped around him to look at the people seated at her work-worn table. The woman looked a little warmer than she should be, but Giorsal quickly refilled her guests’ tankards with mulled cider. The pair needed warming inside and out.

“By the look upon your face, I guess ‘tis a good thing they found me alone,” Giorsal said as she watched Malcolm.

It took Malcolm a moment to shake free of his shock. He could not believe that Ailis MacFarlane and her hulking guardian were sitting in his kitchen. How had they escaped Craigandubh? How had they eluded the MacCordys? Why did they come to him? He did not need such trouble. He certainly did not want to face or make the choices that would be demanded of him.

“What are ye doing here?” he asked as he quickly sat down. “How did ye get away?”

“It wasna so difficult.” Ailis sipped her cider and vowed not to let him know too much about her escape. She did not want to cause her poor befuddled aunt any more difficulty. “The weather has proved to be the most persistent obstacle.”

“So, ye wish me to aid ye in returning to Craigandubh and soften your husband’s fury?” He nodded a silent thank you to Giorsal, who served him some more mulled cider and sat down beside him.

“Nay, I dinna mean to go back to him—ever.” Ailis shook her head. “I would cut my own throat first.”

“Dinna talk such foolishness. Ye carry a child.”

“Aye, I do, which is why I fled your cousin. And why I will never return.”

“Then why are ye here? Ye must ken that I will return ye to Donald.”

“I had hoped that ye wouldna.”

“Hold up now. I am sorry that my one small act of gallantry has made ye think that I am the greatest of fools, a man ready to toss his livelihood, mayhaps even his life, away on a whim.”

“Nay, one thing I have never thought ye were was a fool.” Ailis smiled faintly, for Malcolm looked mildly irritated and not really much of a threat. “Neither are ye completely your cousin’s lackey.”

“Ye make some sweeping judgments of a man ye have spent little time with.” Malcolm frowned when he saw her wince and noticed that she was clutching the edge of the table very tightly. “Does something ail ye?”

“Is it the bairn?” asked Giorsal. “Do ye need to lie down?”

“Not as yet,” Ailis replied and looked directly at Malcolm. “Jaime and I have reason to believe that your cousins’ men will soon be here. Mayhaps, because of your aid to me before, they feel this is a reasonable place to search or set extra guards. There is nary another place twixt here and Rathmor that isna guarded. I was very surprised to find ye so unprotected and unwatched.”

“I have guards,” Malcolm grumbled.

“We saw no one, sir,” said Jaime. “That wasna intended?”

“Nay, that wasna intended.” Malcolm took a deep drink of his spiced cider. “I am cursed with lazy fools for my men-at-arms. My dear cousin Donald gives me the dregs of the pathetic guard he gathers around himself. Long ago I ceased trying to get any work out of the jesters Donald calls soldiers. If my cousin wishes to waste his money on mercenaries who canna even subdue some sheep in the field, ‘tis his concern, not mine.”

“I think ye will soon have more guard here then ye might wish for,” Ailis said, feeling almost sorry for the man.

“Aye, but it will be here to watch for ye or to watch me. Ye have already cost me dearly, wench. My kinsmen were never the most trusting sort, but before I set myself between ye and my cousins, they had never openly mistrusted me before. Now they do. ‘Tis a fine gift ye gave me. Now, here ye sit, eager to cause me even more trouble. Well, no, thank ye.”

“Malcolm!” Giorsal lightly punched him on the arm. “Ye canna speak so to a woman with child.”

“A woman carrying a MacDubh child,” he reminded her.

“The parentage of the child doesna matter to me, and it shouldna matter to ye. All we need to ken is that she carries a bairn. ‘Tis enough to move any Christian soul to want to help her. Aye, especially since I believe she willna be carrying that bairn for very much longer.” Giorsal’s tone carried the faint lilt of a question as she looked at Ailis.

Malcolm stared at Ailis’s swollen stomach in horror. “Are ye about to give birth?”

It was difficult for Ailis to completely suppress a smile over Malcolm’s reaction. “There is that chance. I do feel odd, but that could be because I am weary and wet. Time will tell. ‘Tis just that with MacCordy and MacFarlane men riding ever closer, searching for me, and the weather so very poor, I couldna wait outside any longer. I needed shelter.”

“Then why didna ye stay at Craigandubh?” Malcolm finished off his cider and refilled his tankard, all the while wishing that he had some stronger drink. “Ye could have been safe and dry there.”

“I would have been, but not my bairn.”

“Nay, I ken that my cousin has been angry and speaks cruelly, but ye canna take all he says to heart.”

“Oh, but I do.” She held Malcolm’s gaze with her own. “Donald MacCordy truly means to kill my child.”

“Nay, I canna believe that,” Malcolm argued, but his voice did not carry the strength of conviction.

“ ‘Tis true. Oh, mayhaps he did not mean his threats while ye still lingered at Craigandubh. That was still just fury, an unrefined cruelty born of hate and anger that was painful, but not truly dangerous. It began to turn as my belly swelled. Donald rarely ever lifted his hand against me, but ye could read the growing truth of his hostile threats in his face, in his voice, even in his eyes. Donald doesna intend to allow my child to live much after its first breath. If there can ever be anything more heinous than the murder of an innocent bairn, then your cousin has thought of it. He means to send the body of my child back to Rathmor, back to the MacDubhs, in pieces.”

“ ‘Tis so hard to believe that my own kinsmen would act so low.”

“Donald will. He is nearly mad with hate for the child I carry. So I couldna stay there, couldna wait until I had borne my child. I am not the only one who felt so. Ye ken well that someone had to have helped me and Jaime get out of Craigandubh. I willna tell ye who, but mention it only to show ye that someone else shares my opinion.”

“Sir Malcolm! Ho, my liege!”

All four people at the table froze as the deep voice echoed through the tower house. Ailis started to get to her feet, Jaime quickly standing up to assist her. Her first thought was to flee, but Malcolm grabbed her by the wrist and put her hand into Giorsal’s.

“Hide her, lass,” he ordered Giorsal. “Take her to your chamber. I will go and find out what trouble there may be and then tell ye what to do.”

As soon as Giorsal had ushered his unwanted guests up the narrow rear stairs to the upper floors, Malcolm strode off to his great hall. It was evident even before he entered the hall that the man-at-arms was just standing in the great hall bellowing for him and could not exert himself to look around. Malcolm cuffed the man offside the head the moment he reached him. The thickheadness of his men-at-arms infuriated Malcolm. The men Donald had given him to command were little good for anything more than arrow fodder.

“Cease your bellowing,” he ordered the man, then slouched in his chair near the fire. “What do ye wish to say?”

“A young page has arrived. He says his master is but a half hour’s journey behind him,” the guard answered.

“And this is of some importance to me, is it?”

“Aye, ‘tis your cousin, sir. Sir Donald is the lad’s master.”

“Ah, clarification. So, my cousin comes for a visit. Well, assume your post and see if ye can get those other slug-witted dolts to do as they should. I ken that ye think I have no power over ye, but that my cousin Donald is your true master. Well, your true master now approaches our gates. I suggest ye dinna let him see how thoroughly useless ye are.” He met the burly man’s glare with a faint smile. “Best hurry. Time passes.”

As soon as the man was gone, Malcolm hurried off to Giorsal’s chambers. He did not have much time to decide what to do about his guests. As he stepped into Giorsal’s room, Malcolm grimaced, for the image Ailis presented was one guaranteed to tug at any man’s heart, any man except Donald MacCordy. Even lying on Giorsal’s bed, her stomach bulging with a MacDubh baby, she looked lovely. He was still drawn to her, to the warmth he knew she could provide. He stepped over to the bed even as Jaime helped Ailis sit up.

“Does trouble ride this way?” Ailis asked Malcolm.

“Oh, aye, my bonny little mother-to-be. Your betrothed rides our way.” He watched her become ashen, and when she tried to stand up, he held her in place. “Tell your faithful behemoth to cease bristling,” he ordered when Jaime softly growled and took a step toward him. “I will do ye no good dead. In truth, I believe it may annoy Giorsal somewhat if ye kill me, and I believe ye need all the allies ye can get. Aye, even questionable ones like me.”

Ailis held up her hand to stop Jaime’s advance on Malcolm. “I fear he is right, m’friend.”

“I need not kill him.” Jaime held up one large fist. “I could just beat some sense and honor into him.”

“He could benefit from that,” muttered Giorsal, scowling at Malcolm. “No mistake.”

“Ye wound me, sweetling.” Malcolm spared a mournful glance at Giorsal before fixing his gaze on Ailis. “I fear ye dinna have much time to decide amongst the choices I am about to offer.”

“Then I suggest that ye hurry and offer them,” Ailis said. “I should like at least one moment to think.”

“ ‘Twould gain me a great deal to hand ye back to my cousin.” Malcolm held up one hand to silence Giorsal when she started to protest. “So I should gain something for not handing ye back to my cousin.”

“Ye waste time. Just name your price.”

“Ye are my price. When this trouble ends, as it must, and ye are returned to health from the birth of the babe, I want one night with ye.” He stepped back a little when Jaime snarled a curse. “That is my price.”

“Malcolm, how could ye?” whispered Giorsal, staring at him with hurt and dismay.

“When ye are older, ye will better understand, lassie.” Malcolm kept his gaze fixed upon Ailis’s face. “Well?”

“I still have a moment. Hush!” She held up both hands when Giorsal and Jaime started to talk. “I thank ye for your concern, but I must decide this for myself.”

“I dinna want ye to buy my life in such a way,” Jaime said.

“I mean no insult, my dearest of friends, but ‘tisna your life I must consider. Or mine.”

Jaime nodded and Ailis sighed. She wanted to tell Malcolm to curl up and die, but resisted the urge. It was not a time to be too emotional. She had to coolly consider her options. Malcolm had only named two, but she knew there was a third one. He would never stop her if she tried to get away. Ailis knew that instinctively. Unfortunately, all the reasons she had sought shelter with Malcolm were still there. In truth, she decided as she felt an easily recognizable contraction cut through her, there was now one very compelling one. It was still cold and wet outside and still dangerous. And she still had to avoid falling back into Donald’s murderous hands at all costs.

But, she thought, the cost could be very high indeed if she agreed to Malcolm’s price. It would destroy whatever chance she had of happiness with Alexander. She was sure that she had softened some of the hard bitterness of the Laird of Rathmor. No matter what her reasons, if she spent one night with Malcolm, what few grains of Alexander’s trust and affection she had managed to gather would be blown away. To save her baby she would have to surrender all hope of happiness with the child’s father. Ailis knew she could also be giving up any chance of being a true mother to her own child, for Alexander could well lock her out of Rathmor completely, and yet he would never give up his child.

None of that mattered, she told herself firmly as another contraction squeezed her body. It was all of a very small consequence next to the life of her baby. She fought the sense of defeat that threatened to choke her.

“I agree,” she said and was glad Malcolm had the wit not to smile or look too pleased with himself.

“Mistress—“ protested Jaime.

“Argue with me later,” she ordered him. “Where am I to hide?” she asked Malcolm.

“In my chambers. Follow me.” He led them out of Giorsal’s chambers to his own. “I have a secret room in here. ‘Tis a space within the walls. Your big friend may find it a tight fit. Aye and ye, too, since ye have swelled so much.”

Glad for Jaime’s arm around her shoulders as they followed Malcolm, Ailis asked, “Is there no other place we can hide from Donald? My pains grows stronger and more distinct.”

“Giorsal, get her a few things to make her stay within our walls a wee bit more comfortable. Aye and give her what she might need to birth her babe.”

Ailis kept a close watch on Jaime as Malcolm stopped before a large clothespress. Malcolm stepped inside of the huge wardrobe and pressed hard against the far side of the back. Slowly the back pivoted. Ailis watched as Jaime paled slightly. It would be a dark, snug hiding place. For a while they would be enclosed within the heavy walls of the tower house. She felt nervous about stepping into the dark narrow passage. Jaime had to be terrified. Ailis did not believe she could ask such a thing of her friend, nor would he be much use to her, for he would be too caught up in his own fears.

“This isna going to work, Malcolm,” she said. “Jaime canna abide such places, and I need him to be in his full right senses.”

“I will be fine,” Jaime said before Malcolm could reply. “I willna be alone. Ye will be with me, mistress. I will also have a light.”

“A light could be dangerous.” Malcolm frowned. “It could show through some crack and be seen.”

“If our enemy is close enough to see that, to espy some small flicker of light, then I suspect he will be near enough to hear us breathe.” Ailis grimaced as a contraction gripped her. “Even if Jaime didna need the light to stem his terror of the dark, he would need it to help me. Ah, thank ye, Giorsal,” she said as the girl returned and started to brush out the hiding place. “That is kind of ye.”

“Ye may be stuck within these walls for some time.” Giorsal lined the area with some blankets.

“My plan is to be rid of my cousin as soon as possible,” Malcolm said.

“ ‘Tis already late, sir.” Giorsal set a basket of fruit, cheese, and wine inside as well as a supply of clothes, rags, and water. “I fear we will have Sir Donald’s unpleasant company until the morning.” She handed Jaime some candles and a flint. “And I fear he will be bellowing for ye any moment now,” she told Malcolm, then looked at Ailis. “ ‘Twould be best if ye and your man get into your wee hiding place. I dearly wish we had better.”

“To keep my bairn safe, I can abide a wee bit of discomfort.”

Ailis stepped inside and sat down. An instant later Jaime handed her some pillows. She lit a candle as he stepped inside and hurried to light another as Malcolm shut them in. As the door closed, sealing them within the walls, she kept a very close watch on Jaime. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. She prayed that he would be all right, for the time between her contractions was becoming distressingly small. Soon she would need his help. When he finally looked at her, he was clear-eyed if pale-faced. There was no sign of the mindless fear that could grip him in such places.

“Are ye sure ye are all right, Jaime?” she whispered. “There may still be time to hide in some other place.”

“There is no other place.” He sat down facing her. “I will be fine. ‘Tisna dark and I am not alone.”

“And soon I fear we may both be busy.” She bit back a groan as a strong contraction tore through her.

“The bairn isna going to wait.”

“Nay, I fear not.”

“Have ye seen a bairn born or helped in the birthing?”

“Never. Have ye?”

“Nay, but I have helped with the sheep and a calving or two.”

“ ‘Tis more than I have done.” She panted as she fought to stay clear-headed while a fierce contraction gripped her. “I didna have much time to study the matter before I was made a prisoner at Craigandubh, and no one told me about birthing there. They only spoke of death whenever my child was mentioned.”

“Dinna think on them. They willna get hold of this child. All ye should think about is the birthing, the living child who is demanding to be born.”

“But, Jaime, bairns make noise when they are born. They scream and squawl.”

“Well, aye and nay.” He frowned and scratched his head. “I canna think of how to stop it if he wants to do it.”

“Neither can I, yet it could lead Donald right to us.”

“Dinna fret on it. There is naught ye can do.”

“True. Except pray that Alexander’s child has the wit to ken that there is danger all about and keep his wee mouth shut.” She smiled weakly when Jaime nodded.

 

Malcolm cursed when Donald stumbled after him. He had tried to get his cousin so drunk that he spent the night under the oak table in the great hall. Instead, it appeared he would have the lout for company all night. He could only pray that Donald was so drunk that he could hear nothing nor had the wit left to understand anything he might hear. Malcolm dearly wished there was enough time to warn Ailis and Jaime.

“I willna be made to sleep upon the floor in my own keep,” Malcolm said as loud as he dared as he and Donald entered his bedchamber.

“Your keep, is it?” Donald laughed nastily as he sprawled on the bed. “Ye forget who ye owe everything to, Cousin.” He clumsily sat up to tug off his boots, then flopped back down on the bed. “I really thought that little slut would have come here.”

“Here?”

“Aye, to beguile her way into your protection again.”

“Ye insult me with your lack of trust.” Malcolm moved to wash up for bed and prayed that Donald would hurry up and go to sleep.

The sound of men’s voices caused Ailis to stop panting. That enhanced her pain and she almost screamed. When she recognized the voices that scream was even harder to suppress. Ailis could not believe Malcolm had brought Donald right into the room, mere feet from where she was. Then she realized that Malcolm probably had no choice. Now, however, she was faced with what could be an impossible task—to bear her first child without a sound.

Ailis stuffed a wet rag between her teeth to cushion them as she suffered another contraction. Through the blur of her own tears she saw Jaime crouched between her legs silently urging her to push down. Her child was coming into the world with his deadliest enemy but feet away. She cursed as she strained for she could not repress every tiny sound; even breathing made some noise. Keep talking, Malcolm, she silently ordered. Talk long and loud.

Malcolm heard a soft, low noise from within his walls and broke out in a cold sweat. He grabbed the decanter of strong wine Giorsal had left by his bed and poured large goblets full for Donald and himself. As he handed the drink to his cousin he began a long, detailed account of a night he had spent with the king’s court. For the first time in his life he set out to purposely bore someone to sleep. He was pleased to see Donald growing glassy-eyed by the second round of wine.

She fought the urge to scream as blinding pain swept over her. The agony of her child leaving her body was equaled by the terror of knowing what the baby’s first cry could bring. Ailis was so tense with fearful anticipation that she was only vaguely aware of Jaime yanking open her bodice and settling something warm and wet there. It was a while before she had enough clarity of wit to look down at what she held. Her child lay on her chest determinedly suckling as Jaime cleaned him off. Since there had been no sudden outcry, she relaxed a little.

“A son,” she whispered.

“Aye, and a quiet one.”

“Thank God.” She grabbed hold of Jaime’s hand. “And thank ye.”

“I just wish I could have stopped ye from promising Malcolm what ye did. It could cost ye a great deal, mistress.”

“Aye, I ken it.” She looked down at her child and smiled. “But look what was saved, Jaime.”