Smiling, Hacon kissed her cheek. “How do ye feel? Mother assures me ye are hale and strong, simply weary.”
“She is right.” She yawned again and softly laughed. “As ye can see.” She frowned when he stood up and began to shed his clothes. “Do ye mean to share this bed with me?”
“Aye. Why not? Would ye rather I didnae?”
“Nay, I should like it. I but wondered if it was . . . weel, allowed.”
“Ah.” He slipped beneath the covers and, lying on his back, gently tucked her up to his side. “I suspect someone somewhere will think it worth complaining about, but . . .” He shrugged. “On the morrow I begin work on the tower house again. Ye may see little of me for a while.”
Snuggling up to him, she closed her eyes. “I can help too, as soon as I am done resting.”
He smiled when she quickly went lax, her breathing falling into the soft, slow cadence of sleep. Pressing a kiss on the top of her head, he stared up at the ceiling.
He had two months to ready their home. If the weather stayed fair he could do it. Then, he vowed, he and Jennet would spend some time alone. They would secure themselves in the tower house, away from the demands of Dubheilrig, of Murdoc, and of all the other demands that intruded on their lives. Finally they would really be alone, if only for a little while, and he would make sure they really talked to each other. It was past time, he decided, for them to stop hiding behind their work, friends, and family and be fully honest with each other. He could not bear to drift along anymore.
Chapter 26
“Elizabeth, I asked you a question. Where is my husband?”
Not looking up from her chore of placing the newly cleaned linen in the chest, Elizabeth shrugged. “At the tower house. Is this chemise not the loveliest you have ever seen?”
“Aye,” Jennet muttered with complete indifference as she sprawled on her back on the bed and scowled up at the ceiling. “He is avoiding me.”
“Nonsense.” After placing the fine, lace-trimmed chemise in the chest, Elizabeth closed the lid and stood up.
“’Tisnotnonsense. I have barely caught a glimpse of the mon since I birthed Ninian nearly ten weeks ago.”
“He was at the christening.”
“Aye, but not there before it and gone soon after. ’Tis as if he fears I might speak to him.”
“He is here each night sleeping at your side.” Elizabeth moved to sit on the edge of the bed.
“Aye, sleeping. He sneaks in after I am asleep and sneaks out ere I wake up. I have seen him a few times when he came in whilst I was feeding Ninian, but ere I put the bairn back in his cradle, Hacon is snoring merrily and quite loudly.” She frowned. “I ne’er realized before that he snores.”
“ ’Tis for the best. You needed to heal from the birth. ’Tis no time to have a randy man pestering you.”
“I have been healed for nearly a fortnight.” She sighed. “He doesnae want me anymore.”
“Oh, now you are talking nonsense. You are trying to find a reason for this odd humor of yours. Now, I know you got a message from your father. Is he well?”
“Aye, he is weel and he swore allegiance to Robert the Bruce. He is already off on some commission for the king. It sounds verra risky. I dinnae like it much. And dinnae try to turn my mind from the problem of Hacon.”
“There is no problem. But I can see you mean to fret and sulk, so I shall leave you to it.”
Turning onto her stomach, Jennet grumbled, “I should have realized I would get no sympathy from you. Ye are near to petitioning the Pope to make Hacon a living saint. Weel, I will tell ye what I think. Every mon wants a son. Hacon has his now, so he doesnae want me. He just hasnae found a way to tell me yet.”
“I am not even going to reply to that. You can just lie here and wallow in your misery. ’Tis clear you want to.”
Jennet winced as the door shut behind Elizabeth with far more force than was necessary. She supposed Elizabeth was right in a way. She did want to wallow in her misery. For days she had been trying to push aside her hurt and sadness, her sense of defeat. She was tired of doing that. It could not hurt to let those feelings flow for a while; it could even help a little.
That Elizabeth would call her fears nonsense did sting somewhat. They ran too deep, were too strong, to be so callously ignored. There was also a good reason for them. Hacon was showing signs of being tired of her. What else could she think when her usually lusty man turned his back to her night after night? She had made her eagerness to renew their lovemaking as clear as she could without boldly demanding he do his duty by her as her husband. The memory of that attempt still caused her to wince. He had muttered something about being too tired and had started snoring. What else could it mean other than he did not desire her any longer? She sighed heavily, close to tears. If matters did not improve very soon, she would not fear it or worry about it—she would know it.
Humming quietly to himself, Hacon strode into his parents’ home and headed for the stairs, then came to an abrupt halt. Elizabeth and his mother were standing at the foot of the stairs and the looks they were giving him told him he was not in their good graces.
“Is something wrong?” he asked, eager to get to Jennet but not wanting any problem left unsettled which might later disturb them.
“I thought ye had some plan for Jennet,” said his mother. “A few days alone or the like.”
