“And I’m not convinced it isn’t. This could still be aboot the Lamonts and MacDougalls. Or it could be Liam Oliphant. He was involved in the wagers. It could even be Laird Gunn. Either of them could hold a grudge against Brodie and me,” Laurel reasoned.
It hadn’t thrilled everyone at court to see Laurel snag Brodie’s attention. Several men wagered Brodie would only marry Laurel to win the bet that he could tame the Shrew of Stirling. A handful of them went much further to win. Nelson and Matthew MacDougall lost their lives for it. But Liam Oliphant had once been Nelson’s confidant and instigator of the bets. He avoided the battle outside the bailey wall where Matthew and Nelson met their ends, so he was still alive to cause more trouble. Laird Gunn also played a role in trying to keep Laurel and Brodie apart. He’d returned to his home along the northeastern coast, but Laurel wouldn’t rule him out.
“Laurel’s right. It could be aboot her,” Brodie chimed in. “There are more people and more reasons to see Laurel harmed than for anyone to attack you. Mayhap whoever they sent before confused you for Laurel in the garden or even in the bailey. Your hair isn’t similar, but it’s clear you’re a lady too. If the person orchestrating this said the lady had unique hair, it could be either of you. Mayhap someone didn’t want Laurel to give birth to my heir. That could be any number of people, including every MacGregor drawing breath.”
Emelie nodded, but nothing Laurel or Brodie said made her feel any better. If they directed the attacks at her, then she had a legitimate reason to fear for her life. But she also quailed at the idea that an assailant might confuse her for Laurel, or that anyone would seek to harm her friend. In the time since she arrived at Kilchurn, she and Laurel had grown even closer than they’d been at court. They were nearly as close as Emelie was to Blythe, and far closer than Laurel had ever been to any of her sisters.
“What do we do?” Emelie asked the still-unanswered question. “If they directed this at Laurel, then Rick is in danger too. Mayhap whoever this is doesn’t know Laurel has already given birth. But if they do, then they might go after your bairn, too.”
“Beyond assigning guards to you both, for now there isn’t much more. I will assign more patrols near our southern borders, and I’ll set patrols ten leagues from the keep. If anyone approaches the keep, they will meet our warriors first,” Brodie decided aloud.
“Can we eat?” Emelie looked at Dominic.
“Aye. But you both eat only what the servants bring everyone else first. You don’t drink from your own chalices, and we all stick with water or watered ale,” Dominic stated. The bells tolled for the evening meal as Dominic finished speaking. Laurel and Brodie retired to their chamber where Laurel laid down, exhausted from her brief time out of bed and on her feet. They would dine together in their chamber that night. Dominic accompanied Emelie belowstairs.
“You sound like a Lowlander again,” Emelie whispered. “It’s vera disappointing.” She winked and patted her husband’s backside just before they reached the dais. They took their places at the high table, and Emelie looked at the senior warriors seated around them. The men were all combat hardened, but they were kind and welcoming to her. She turned toward Dominic as he whispered to Aggie. When he was through, he kept his voice low as he explained his conversation.
“Berta is to oversee the dishes that come to the high table, and Aggie will serve them herself.”
“That’ll draw more attention. Aggie is our housekeeper, not a maid or serving lass.”
“Aye, but she also makes a fuss over you already. She and Berta will say they don’t think you’ve been eating properly and want to put some meat on your bones.” Dominic leaned so far over that he flicked his tongue against the back of Emelie’s earlobe. His gravelly voice rumbled in her ear as he exaggerated his words. “And I wouldnae mind if it all went to that lush backside of yers.”
“If I eat more than I do now, I’ll be as broad as the side of the stables.”
“Then eat up. I won’t complain if there’s more of you to hold when I make love to you or when you sit in my lap. I might not let go at all.”
“You’re a tease, Dom,” Emelie giggled.
“We’ll see who’s jesting tonight when I show you just how much I enjoy your lovely charms.” Dominic’s hand inched up Emelie’s skirts until his fingers dipped between her thighs. Emelie struggled not to squirm. She licked her lips and pulled her teeth along her lower lip, knowing how Dominic’s body would react. She slid her hand under his plaid and up his thigh until the back of her hand touched his steely length. She cocked an eyebrow before she withdrew her hand. Dominic groaned and squeezed her thigh. “I won’t forget that.”
“Good.”
Neither could say more because Aggie arrived with the first dish. She moved along the table, serving the senior clansmen before reaching Dominic and Emelie. The men, many of whom sat on the clan council, watched Aggie in confusion. She should have served Dominic and Emelie first from dishes reserved for the laird’s family. But Dominic wished for everyone to see that Emelie ate from the same platters as the clan council, so unless the covert menace intended to poison the clan’s senior leadership, food wouldn’t be the right approach. Dominic prayed it would work because he didn’t know of anything else to do short of a food taster.
Emelie sipped the watered ale Aggie brought and nibbled on a heel of bread as she watched the men eat. When none keeled over or dropped dead in their trencher, she grew confident enough to eat her own portions. With gowns properly fitted from Laurel, she could sit for the entire evening meal, and her appetite from their journey had returned. Dominic encouraged her to eat, but he also silently signaled that he would taste each item before her. Emelie felt guilty for the thought, but she would have much rather the other men at the table be ill or succumb rather than Dominic if the food were poisoned. But the meal progressed without incident.
* * *
The next three sennights dragged for Emelie. The men Dominic assigned to guard her were polite and diligent, but she couldn’t imagine it thrilled them to play nursemaid and follow her around. Dominic spent less time in the lists so that he could serve as her guard for most of the day. The time spent with him was the only blessing in the whole mess. She’d caught glares from the council members when they realized, one by one, they were unofficial taste testers. She worked in the gardens, but she was finding it more and more difficult to kneel and then stand up. The other women helped her, but it only made them comment more about how small she was, how large her belly was, and the giant she was bound to give birth to since they believed she carried Dominic’s child. Laurel eased back into her routine and took back many of her chatelaine duties, which only left Emelie with more time to fill and nowhere to go.
Dominic knew Emelie was growing frustrated with her isolation, and he regretted that he still felt it was necessary. He accompanied her into the village two afternoons, but he spent the entire time on edge. His hand didn’t leave the hilts of the dirks tucked in his belt. He reached back several times to touch the sword in its scabbard on his back, as though he would ensure it was still there. He knew Emelie picked up on his discomfiture because she spent nearly as much time watching him as she did looking at the people they visited.
When Dominic offered to take her for a third afternoon, she declined. He felt guilty, knowing she did so for his sake. He tried to make it up to her by taking her to their chamber and reading to her throughout the afternoon. It had only taken ten minutes before she was sound asleep next to him as they reclined on their bed. After that, he suggested she nap every afternoon, but she claimed she’d only been tired because he kept them up most of the night. He’d had the decency to look abashed for a moment, but then he gloated and waggled his eyebrows. Emelie giggled and shook her head.
Fifteen
Emelie and Laurel sat together in the upstairs solar as Laurel went over the week’s accounts and Emelie held a sleeping Rick. She gazed at the infant boy’s cherubic face and wondered what her child would look like. Laurel’s son was the spitting image of his father. There could be no doubting the lad’s paternity. It made Emelie uneasy to think that her child might look more like Henry than her. She feared what people would say if the child didn’t look like her, and it was impossible for the child to look like Dominic.
“I already told you. We’ll say the bairn looks like your mother or father. No one here knows them,” Laurel said, reading Emelie’s mind. She laid down her quill and smiled. “Don’t worry until there is a reason to. People will just be excited that there’s another bairn. They won’t be talking aboot how he or she looks.”
“Just like they aren’t all talking aboot how much Rick looks like Brodie?”
“Och, well, I suspect every child I bear will look like their father. I think the mon willed it.”
“I think it would be nice if your children had your strawberry-blonde hair,” Emelie mused.
“Not so easy to blend into a crowd with it,” Laurel grinned. Emelie picked up a lock of her own white-blonde hair and gave Laurel a pointed look. “Mayhap your children will have your hair. We’ll be able to tell who’s who when they’re off playing.”
