Emelie was unprepared for Dominic’s blunt answer. But she appreciated his honesty to some flowery explanation neither would believe.
“Whatever your reason, I’m grateful. Your wife is truly fortunate.” Emelie had assumed Dominic was married given his age; she estimated him to be older than Henry. His gentleness when he first met her, and his initial belief that she was a child, made him seem paternal. But as Emelie stood with him, nothing felt paternal about their embrace. It took her a moment to realize Dominic’s body language drastically shifted. She leaned back to look at him. “I hope she won’t think that you’re being untoward. I didn’t take it as such.”
“Ma wife is dead.” It shocked Dominic that he blurted out his widower status without thinking. He’d had to admit to his wife’s death to only a handful of people, since everyone at Kilchurn Castle knew the circumstances.
“I’m so sorry for your loss, Dominic.” Emelie canted her head, and her shoulders sank. “It was recent.”
“Aye.” Dominic felt the usual anger, guilt, and recrimination surge from his gut into his chest before it threatened to strangle him. His nose flared as he fought to keep from plowing his fist into the stone wall. He’d just come from an infuriating meeting with King Robert, where he’d had to recount details he knew Brodie and Laurel explained the last time they were at court, shortly after Colina’s death.
It relieved Emelie that they were no longer speaking about her situation, but it pained her to see the raw grief in Dominic’s eyes. She moved without thinking as she stepped back into his embrace and soothed her hands over his back. Surprised by her offer of comfort, Dominic was slow to wrap his arms around Emelie again, but when he did, he thought he might never want to release her. As they stood together, he could feel Emelie’s body pressed against his, and there was nothing childlike about it. She may have been short, but there was nothing confusing about the full bosom and flared hips resting against him. For the first time in months, arousal sparked, and Dominic felt his cock stir. He pulled away abruptly. Without his plaid and sporran on, there was little to hide his swelling rod. The Lowland breeks he wore while at court left little to the imagination. He didn’t want to terrify Emelie, nor did he want her to think he would take advantage of her.
“We should go back inside,” Dominic croaked before he cleared his throat. He led them back to where they’d met. Both came to an abrupt stop when they found the mess they’d left behind. Once again, Emelie bent to collect the pennyroyal petals scattered on the floor. Dominic helped, but it brought back all the unresolved questions. He didn’t know why it mattered to him, but it did. “What’re you going to do?”
Dominic had collected himself enough to rid himself of his burr and to adopt his courtly speech once more. Emelie hadn’t seemed to notice his Highland brogue, but most Lowlanders looked at Highlanders with disdain even before they spoke. Most Lowlanders at court believed the Highlands’ accent was as uncouth as its owners.
“I thought I knew. But I can’t do it. I can’t go through with it, even though I went to the apothecary tonight. Having the medicinal now makes me realize I’m just not someone who can go through with it. I still haven’t fully come to terms that I will be a mother, but I guess I want to be one more than I don’t want to be one. Even if the situation isn’t ideal.”
“How far along are you?” Dominic felt a seed of an idea taking root. He knew it would be impetuous, but he also sensed it would be the right thing to do. A chance for redemption seemed within reach.
“I’m uncertain. But no more than two moons,” Emelie answered.
“What will you do?” Dominic asked again.
“Retire to my clan’s home in shame. Bear the child there and pray my parents don’t turn me out.”
“Do you think they would?”
“No. But I don’t know that my father would ever forgive me or accept the bairn.”
“And the father? Would he acknowledge his child?”
“I wrote to him. I truly don’t know. But either way, he’s married, and this child is illegitimate.”
“Do you wish to marry?” Dominic pressed a little more.
“I did. I thought myself in love, and I thought I’d be marrying Henry.” Emelie snapped her mouth shut, not having intended to give away anything about her unborn child’s father.
“My wife’s name was Colina.” Dominic struggled not to hiss the woman’s name, but he felt he owed the admission to Emelie, since he knew she hadn’t intended to tell him her former lover’s name. He took a deep breath before continuing. “If you wish to marry and you wish for a home where no one will know the circumstances around your child’s paternity, then mayhap you’d consider marrying me.”
“What?” Emelie barked before she glanced around. She tugged Dominic’s sleeve until they slipped into an alcove. She couldn’t believe their good fortune that no one had stumbled upon them yet, but she didn’t intend to press their luck.
“Mayhap you’d marry me. Emelie, I don’t care that you’re not a virgin. And I’m not doing this out of pity, before you accuse me of that. You’re a young woman in a tenuous position, but naught aboot you makes me think you’re without morals.”
“But what if this bairn is a son? You would claim another mon’s son as your own?” Emelie shook her head. “I know Laurel is with child too, but no one will know if it’s a lad or lass until the bairn arrives. Until she bears your brother a son, you’re his heir. That would make any son I bear your heir. Eventually, the Campbell laird might not be a Campbell. Is that something you’d risk? I don’t know any mon who would.”
Dominic’s mind had already whirled through that possibility. He knew he wouldn’t keep such a secret from Brodie, which meant not keeping it from Laurel. “Blood is but blood. It is red regardless the body from which it pours. If I raise the bairn as my own, then he or she is mine. I don’t think I will ever lead Clan Campbell. The way Brodie and Laurel are together, they’re likely to have an entire army of children within a decade. But if, somehow, I became laird, and this child is a lad, then he would be my heir, just as much as any son born of my seed.”
“And if you should have a son of your own one day?”
“One day? My own? Wouldn’t it be our son? You make it sound as though I would have a wife other than you.”
Emelie shrugged. Things were moving too quickly for her. “Would this be a marriage in name only?”
“Is that what you wish?” Dominic countered.
“I don’t know what I wish. Five minutes ago, I had no prospects and no idea what to do.”
Dominic cupped Emelie’s jaw. “This is impetuous, and I know that. I’m not generally an impetuous mon, but I just have a feeling that I can’t ignore. But if marriage is overwhelming to you, if you doubt I can be a loyal father to your bairn, then handfast with me. It would give you time to have your bairn. The child would bear my name, so he or she would be legitimate. But if you don’t wish to remain married to me, then you can repudiate it at any time or let it run its course after a year and a day.”
