“I canna keep it from her, and I willna. But it is going to upset her badly.” Dominic glanced toward the keep.
“I’m tempted to send Laurel and Rick with ye. We dinna ken if it is Pringle. If it is, we dinna ken if he’s even thought how far along Emelie must be. I dinna want him just giving orders to nab, or worse kill, the woman with a bairn.”
“I’ll take Laurel and Rick if ye wish, but I dinna think it’s wise to keep them together any longer. They’re more likely to both get killed. Whoever this is willna care who they strike first, and they willna leave anyone to tell the tale. Can ye get word to Monty and Donnan?”
“I dinna ken we have that much time, but I will. I’ll ask them to come. It’ll appear like they’ve come for Rick’s christening. Laurel may refuse to go to Balnagown, and I dinna blame her, but her brother can take her to one of our more remote keeps. I trust him and his second.” Brodie hadn’t revealed even to Dominic why he trusted Donnan as much as he did Monty. It was a secret he and Laurel would likely take to the grave. Donnan and Monty were best friends as children, and their relationship grew into much more over the years. Donnan considered Laurel his sister as much as Monty did. The men would do anything to protect her and Rick.
Dominic stopped at the well in the bailey’s center and pulled a full bucket over the stone enclosure. He dunked his head in before scrubbing his hands. He wiped as much blood and grime from his hands and face as he could before dumping the bucket toward the stables. The brothers entered the keep, each seeking his wife.
* * *
“Is that what Wallace believes, or what he was told?” The story Dominic recounted to Emelie stunned her.
“It’s what he believes. I dinna ken if he’s told anyone other than his parents and uncle. Brodie doesnae think anyone will believe him,” Dominic assured her.
“I doubt the bairn will be born with russet hair, so hopefully, that will put paid to any rumors. All King Robert’s bastards bear a resemblance to him,” Emelie noted with a sigh. “Can we see Father Lonergan now?”
“We can. We can ask him to marry us today and argue our handfast is grounds to skip the banns. Em?”
“Yes?” Emelie’s brow furrowed when she noticed his hesitation.
“I dinna like asking ye something so personal, but have ye told Father Lonergan aught in confession that would make him believe these incidents are someone’s way to protest our marriage?”
“You wish to know what I’ve confessed?”
“Nae really. I told ye, I dinna like asking. Ye dinna need to tell me aught, but it would prepare me in case the priest argues. Dinna tell me the details of what ye’ve said, but please tell me enough for me to be ready.”
“I haven’t confessed aught to any priest aboot this. I confessed in Stirling after the first time Henry and I coupled. But I didn’t after the second time. I couldn’t bring myself to say I’d been such a fool twice. I have said naught to our priest here. I confessed to you, and I’ve done as much in my prayers. God knows my contrition, and I think we’re all suffering my penance.”
“Vera well. Let’s see our priest aboot getting married, sparrow.” Dominic offered Emelie his hand as they left their chamber. “Nudge me if you hear my brogue. Father Lonergan will know something is amiss if he hears it. He drilled Brodie and me for years not to sound what he called ‘common’ when we went to court. His didactic pontifications stuck with us. We learned it was easier to sound like Lowlanders than deal with him.”
“He’s the one who ruined your accent?” Emelie asked, aghast. “I should like to have a few words with him aboot that. Don’t people think you sound pretentious?”
“I think most are used to it. He corrected us so often as children that I think people grew to prefer hearing our courtly speech than hearing Father Lonergan chastising us. Usually at the end of a switch.”
“He beat you? A priest beat you?”
“No, but he threatened us. As lads, we believed him. When we were auld enough to know he would never make good on it, we were auld enough to know we shouldn’t anger a mon of God.”
“I’m telling you right now, Dominic. He is not changing our child’s accent. If he or she sounds like you and not me, then I will have no one interfering. I like your brogue, and I wish you would speak normally. It comes out when you’re upset, so I know it’s what your mind is trying to tell your mouth is right.”
“Aye. I ken. I ken I think with a burr. If only ye could hear ma thoughts when they’re of ye,” Dominic teased as he squeezed Emelie’s bottom before they reached the kirk’s door. They slipped inside the clan’s chapel and found the priest in prayer in the front pew. The white-haired, white-bearded man turned toward them, not expecting anyone to interrupt.
“Dominic, Lady Emelie,” Father Lonergan greeted them.
“Father, Lady Emelie and I would like to marry. We wish for our relationship to be binding until we meet again in Heaven,” Dominic announced without preamble.
“And Laird Campbell agrees?”
“Aye. He knows we’re here with you,” Dominic explained.
“Then we can post the banns this Sunday,” the priest beamed.
“We’re hoping we can forego the banns. It’s obvious Lady Emelie is with child, and we handfasted moons ago.”
“Church doctrine says,” Father Lonergan started.
“Father,” Emelie spoke up. “I don’t think church doctrine knows that much aboot handfasting. Since it’s a trial marriage, anyone could speak up during the year to give reason a couple shouldn’t marry for good. We handfasted over five moons ago. That must be equivalent to at least twenty sennights of posting the banns.”
