“Ye cannae run from this, Jamie,” he continued. “Please, stop.”
She paused and turned around, hands on her hips. “Why must we discuss this now? We aremonthsaway from my condition even being noticeable.” She poked her still-flat stomach.
Kieran covered the ground to her. “Aye, but at some point, we will have to tell the Brotherhood, as well as Cuthie and, well . . . everyone! A pregnancy can only be hidden for so long. We need a plan, a way to proceed.”
“And like I’ve been saying, we will cross that bridge when we arrive at it. You’re being a wee too much Master-of-the-Ship at the moment.Order supplies! Make a schedule! Plan for contingencies!” Jamie threw her hands in the air. “Worrying about the end now won’t solve anything.”
“Jamie,” his voice fell to a low growl, “you’re saying that simply to avoid talking about it. Cuthie is up to something. He and Massey have been spending hours closeted together, talking. He’s supposed to be negotiating with the village chiefs to purchase sandalwood, but he hasnae begun tae do so. I’m concerned.”
Jamie frowned,finallypausing. “That is . . . odd. All Cuthie has done the past month is talk about the sandalwood to be had in the New Hebrides.”
“Precisely. What if his plans involve ye? What if he knows?” Kieran motioned toward her body, indicating both her gender and their growing child.
“I cannot think how he would know.” Jamie folded her arms. “Cuthie and I rarely talk. He has never so much as touched me.”
“Perhaps, but something isnae quite right. I’m not irrational tae be concerned about ye! We need a plan.”
“Och, we’re talking in circles, Kieran. Look at me.” She swept a hand down her body, indicating her trousers, shirt, and waistcoat. “I am a woman who will don breeches, hop a ship, and then master carpentry and fencing while sailing the world. Do ye honestly think I willnae be atigresswhen it comes tae protecting our bairn? Me, the babe, and yourself . . . we will find a way. No matter what Cuthie knows. No matter what he has planned.”
She popped up on her tiptoes and pressed a lingering kiss to his lips before snaring his hand. She pressed his palm to her stomach.
“Have faith in me,” she continued. “Trust my courage. All will be well. I will make sure of it.”
24
The chaos in the drawing room was instantaneous.
Violet staggered to her feet with a moan, hands clutching her belly.
Lady Aster ran to fetch Ewan.
“Let us get you to your bedchamber,” Eilidh said.
Violet nodded, panting.
Lady Rose wrapped an arm around her sister. Eilidh took the other side, but as both Violet and Lady Rose were significantly taller, Eilidh felt herself to be merely an elbow rest for Violet more than any actual help. Lady Rose bore the brunt of her sister’s weight.
They slowly helped Violet walk toward her bedchamber, pausing on the grand central staircase as a labor pain hit.
Ewan burst through the front door, taking the stairs two at a time, eyes wild but lit with a fervent excitement.
“A groom has gone for the midwife,” he informed his wife, scooping her into his arms as if she were a wee babe and not an exceptionally tall woman in her own right. “What can I do?”
Violet moaned and cuddled into him, secure in the safety of his arms. Ewan carried his wife up the stairs and into their bedchamber, cradling her against his chest.
Eilidh followed, hovering nearby, unsure what to do.
The housekeeper and a pair of maids rushed in.
Eilidh found herself pushed more and more into the corner of the room, observing.
Ewan fussed over his wife, kissing her head, making sure she was comfortable.
Finally, Eilidh bit her lip and looked away, unequal to witnessing the tenderness between them. The entire scene calcified the anguished catch in her chest.
Would this have been her lot? Had she had her baby with Kieran at her side? Would he have been so attentive? Would she have behaved like Violet—clinging to her husband one minute, then pushing him away the next?
Her frail numbness crumbled once more.
