“We’ll send for a physician!” Cicely cried.
“There isn’t one in the near borders, ladyfaire. I’m dying. Send for Ambrose to come and shrive me before it is too late,” he instructed her.
“We are having a child,” Cicely replied. “You cannot die, Ian. We are having a child! Don’t you want to see your child?”
“Aye, I do, but I will not, I fear, ladyfaire. Send word to Sir William, for Glengorm will be without a laird, or the new laird will be a wee bairn. No border keep can be kept by a child or a woman, Cicely. I am sorry to leave you so vulnerable.”
This was a dream. A bad dream.Nay!A nightmare. Ian wasn’t dying. He couldn’t be! They had been together such a short time, and she had come to love him. His child was in her belly. She drew a deep, calming breath. “I’ll get the priest,” she said. If it would comfort him, so much the better. His uncle would tell him he wasn’t dying, and Ian would get better. Leaving him, she found Artair in the hall. “Go and fetch Father Ambrose quickly,” she told him.
“Is it time then?” the serving man asked her, but then, seeing the horrified look in his mistress’s eye, Artair ran from the hall.
What was the matter with the servants? Cicely asked herself. Why did they all seem to be so fixated with her husband’s death? Ian wasn’t going to die. He would be here in the spring to hold his firstborn.
Mab came up into the hall and, seeing her mistress just standing there silently, she led the young woman over to her chair by the hearth. “Sit,” she said.
“He wants the priest.” Cicely spoke low, collapsing into the chair.
“Aye, then he senses his time is near,” Mab answered matter-of-factly.
“What are you saying?” Cicely cried. “Do not say it!Do not!”
“The wound is infected, my lady. It is poisoning him. I cannot heal it or stop it,” Mab said. “I am ashamed my skills have failed him, but if he says he is dying then he is dying. Only a miracle can save him now, and prayers are all we have left.”
Cicely did not reply. She sat very still, her face turned to stone.
Father Ambrose found her there as he came into the hall. He saw Mab as she returned to her kitchen. The old woman shook her head sorrowfully at him. Walking over to Cicely, the priest put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Tell me what is wrong,” he said. “And then I will do my best to help.”
“Ian says he is dying,” Cicely began, not looking at him.
Ambrose nodded. “Let us go to him then, and see how we may ease what remains of his time, Cicely.” His voice was kind and filled with sympathy.
She turned in her chair, looking up at him. “It isn’t so,” she said, low. “It cannot be! My husband is not dying. Nay! He isn’t.” Her voice trembled. Her eyes were desperate.
Ambrose put a firm hand beneath Cicely’s elbow, gently forcing her to her feet. “Come, my child, your husband needs us both now. We cannot fail him, can we?” He led her from the hall and up thestone stairs to the chamber where Ian lay. Opening the door, the priest ushered Cicely into the room.
“Uncle!” The laird’s eyes lit up with relief. “Uncle, I am dying. I feel it. You must confess me before I can no longer do so.”
Like the young woman by his side, Ambrose Douglas wanted to deny the evidence of his own eyes. But he was far too practical a man. His nephew was right: He was dying. His skin was paler than pale, with just the faintest hint of gray. His eyes were sunken into his head, and he had lost a great deal of weight. He made the sign of the cross over Ian. “Your sins are forgiven you, nephew. And if it will soothe you to confess to me you may do so, but first I must know what you wish me to do.”
Cicely sat upon the bed. A small sound escaped her, but she said nothing.
The laird reached out to take her hand in his as he spoke. “Send to Sir William,” he began. “If the bairn Cicely carries is a lad, then Glengorm will have an heir in the direct line. I will depend on Sir William to protect both my wife and my son. If the bairn is female then it is up to Sir William to decide what is to be done. If he means to give Glengorm to another, provision must be made for my wife and daughter. Perhaps he can convince the king to restore Cicely’s dower. I do not think the queen would permit her old friend to be left impoverished.”
“Why do you say these things?” Cicely whimpered. “You cannot die, Ian!”
“Do you think I would leave you if I did not have to, ladyfaire? Did I not brave the wrath of a king to make you my wife?” He raised the small hand in his to his parched lips and kissed it. “You are a brave lass, Cicely. Do you remember how you came to Glengorm, my love? Oh, how you raged and fought with me in those early days. You must gather that fervor to yourself again—for your sake, and for that of our child. I expect no less of you, ladyfaire. Now, if the bairn is a ladI should like you to name him after me. But if it’s a lass, the choice is yours, although I should favor Johanna, after the queen.”
There was a heavy, dark rock where her heart had once been. Her chest hurt, but if she wept she would shatter into a thousand pieces. The child in her womb stirred again. It was as if there were a butterfly within her belly, fluttering its wings. She could not allow herself to collapse into self-indulgent hysteria. The child was all she would have left of her husband. The child must be protected at all costs. “I will name our son Ian,” she said. “But if I birth a daughter I should like her to be called after Jo. Thank you for that, my lord.” Now it was she who kissed his hand, and her eyes met his.
He smiled at her, and she saw a quick flash of the man who had abducted her because he loved her so much.
Cicely felt guilty, for while she had come to love him she had never felt the same deep passion for him that he did for her. And now he was dying. There was no time left for them, and she was suddenly angry at a fate that had thrown her into Ian Douglas’s embrace and was now tearing her out of those strong arms. It wasn’t fair!
“You will survive, ladyfaire,” he told her quietly. “You are strong.”
Cicely sighed. “I don’t want to be without you. Curse the Grahames! I will take a party of clansmen over the border and slay them all for this. They have taken my husband from me, and my child will have no father because of their dishonorable actions.” Her beautiful face was suddenly set in a hard manner.
“Nay, I have avenged Fergus’s death, ladyfaire. I want no border warfare disturbing the peace of Glengorm for our folk, or for you and the bairn,” he said. “Promise me that you will not attack the Grahames and start a feud.”
