“I am sorry. ‘Tis just that I worry so—about Alexander, about the children, and about getting back there.”
“Are ye sure that getting back to Rathmor is really what ye wish to do?”
“Where else am I to go? My child would be at risk of his life in the hands of the MacCordys and at risk of being treated like a painful, must-be-hidden shame by his own maternal kinsmen. That leaves the father’s clan, the MacDubhs of Rathmor. For all of his faults, Alexander has said that he will wed me, and I am certain that he will do his utmost to keep this bairn safe. That has become of the greatest importance to me. In truth, plots and plans to keep his child alive could well be all that has kept me sane. Months of staring at these damp walls or Donald’s ugly face is certainly enough to steal a person’s wits.”
Jaime shook his head. “The man lets his mind prey on the matter, on ye and the bairn and MacDubh. I fear ‘tis turning his wits. His talk grows darker, mistress. I wouldna ignore what Donald MacCordy says no matter how strange it sounds. That fury Sir Malcolm protected ye from hasna died.”
“Nay, I ken it. Donald but swallows it, and it begins to rot his innards.”
“Aye, true.”
Ailis studied Jaime for a moment, realizing what changes had occurred in the man. In the months since the MacDubhs had swept them up and carried them away, Jaime had grown, had matured. The stutter could still appear under extreme duress but not as strongly as it had been. Jaime’s confidence had strengthened.
“And how goes it for ye?” she asked. “Ye appear to be doing well enough.”
“Well enough. I miss Kate and the children.”
“Ah, aye—Kate. I should think ye would wish to return to Rathmor, to return to Kate.” Ailis knew that Kate was the reason Jaime had become so much stronger. Kate’s love had finished the work Ailis had started.
“I do want to get back to Kate.” A light flush tainted his dark features. “ ‘Tis my duty to care for ye.”
“Jaime, I ken that most people think ye are my bondservant, but ye arena. Ye never were. Dinna start believing it yourself. If ye wish to be with Kate, then that is where ye should be. Ye must not risk your own happiness.”
“Kate will wait for me. I ken ye dinna own me, but Ioweye. And we are friends—aye?”
“Aye. If God favors us, Kate willna have to wait too long for ye to return.”
“I hope not. But how can we return to Rathmor? Either of us? We are kept prisoner here.”
“A chance to slip away could come, and we must be prepared. That is what I do. I dinna think on whether or not my opportunity will arise, but that it will and how I must act to take the fullest advantage of it.”
“Is there anything I can do? I am allowed more and more freedom as each day passes. They dinna consider me such a great threat since I have sworn that I shall behave. At night I am secured, but not very much during the day. Could that help us?”
“Oh, aye, Jaime, it could help. After all, we shall need to ken where to go once we do get out of here. A route of escape needs to be surveyed.”
“And ye truly believe that we will get out of here?”
“I have to believe that, Jaime.” She lightly smoothed her hands over her stomach. “Ihaveto.”
“And ye have to get away from Donald ere that bairn comes out.”
“Oh, sweet Mary, aye—as far as I can.”
* * *
Ailis tried not to grunt as she hefted herself up onto the bed and failed. She was not sure which darkened her mood more—the dull, rainy spring weather or the size of her own body. Escape had continued to elude her and Jaime throughout the long, cold winter. Now she was not sure that she could escape even if Donald himself held every door open for her.
Her fears were getting harder to subdue. Spring was upon them, and she was sure her child would soon be born. Donald’s threats grew more vicious until she was left nauseated and shaking after each one of his visits. The child she carried had become the symbol of all the insults Donald believed the MacDubhs had flung at him over the years. He would use her child to vent his fury and to demonstrate the increasing hate he felt toward Alexander and her.
“I must escape,” she whispered and struggled against the urge to weep.
Donald’s repeated threats to cut her baby’s throat before her very eyes and send the pieces back to Alexander was the one that lingered the most in her mind. It left her with tormented dreams, nightmares that caused her to wake up shaking and sweating. She was sure that that was not good for her.
A soft scratching at her door and the murmur of voices drew her attention. Her hopes rose, then fell when her stepaunt Una entered followed by Jaime, who brought in a tray holding a jug of wine and three tankards. It was always welcome to have company who did not threaten or terrify her, but she needed help now; she needed it desperately. As dear as the befuddled woman was, Una was no aid and Jaime was nearly as helpless as her.
“Jaime,” Ailis began, her growing desperation clear to hear in her voice.
“Have some wine, mistress.” Jaime urged Una to sit next to Ailis, then served the two women some wine. “Lady Una has something she needs to say to ye. Ye had best heed her, I am thinking.”
