Will he get even more unhinged as the pregnancy progresses? Is that even possible?
Cameron lifts me out of the car and into the wheelchair. This is ridiculous. He proudly pushes me up to the line of household employees.
Smiling weakly and greeting each person, I’m surprised at how warmly they’re responding to me. It feels sincere, like they might be happy that I’m alive. Miss Kevin is standing at the end, wearing her butler’s uniform, her arm in a discreet sling, and holding Bad Cat, who is glaring at me.
Before my obsessed husband can stop me, I rise from the wheelchair and get as close as I dare. “I really want to hug you right now and thank you for saving my life, Miss Kevin,” I whisper. “I recognize this would be inappropriate, but… you nearly gave your life for me. I will never be able to thank you.”
She very gingerly shakes my hand. “It was my pleasure. Welcome home, Madame Morana.” I notice the slightest sheen of emotion in her warm brown eyes. Gently squeezing her hand, I sit back down as she puts Bad Cat on my lap.
When I see the room Cameron has set up for me, I burst out laughing, which I then immediately regret. Holding a hand over my bullet wound, I view what looks like a complete surgical suite.
“Am I pregnant or slowly dying from a hideous, lingering disease?” I ask.
“I want to make sure we’re prepared for anything,” he says stubbornly.
“Uh-huh… I’m not sleeping in here. This is so depressing.”
“Mrs. MacTavish, please do get on the bed for an examination, at least.” Dr. Greer puts a hospital gown on the bed, smiling hopefully. “Your husband has indicated that I am not allowed to leave before I give you a complete workup.”
Recognizing that two highly regarded physicians will not be allowed to leave this house until my husband’s wildly overprotective mania is satisfied, I sigh sadly.
“I just got out of the hospital,” I mumble.
Cameron shuts the door and helps me change into the gown.
“I’ve already spoken with Dr. Blanchet-”
“Your fellow captive?” I ask, glaring up at a completely unrepentant Cameron.
“-my colleague who updated me on your bullet wound,” Dr. Greer continues, unperturbed, “and we went over the x-rays and recovery plan. I feel very confident that the wound will not impact the pregnancy, but let’s have a look.”
After a basic exam, which takes twice as long because my enormous husband insists on looming over Dr. Greer like a Scottish Yeti, he pulls over the ultrasound machine. “Let’s check on your little one.”
Cameron sits next to me, holding my hand. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for the first one,” he whispers.
“You had a lot going on,” I say, kissing his chin, the only part of him I can reach.
My atavistic fear of bad luck rises again. What if they’re wrong? What if the bullet took our baby?
Dr. Greer manipulates the Doppler over my abdomen. “Sorry…” he murmurs when I wince when he presses down.
“It’s fine, do what you need to.”
“Ah, there we are.” He points to the screen, “See there?”
There’snemnogo lyubvi,my little love, pulsing like a star.
My husband’s expression is a mix of hope, joy, shock, excitement, and a few other emotions cycle over that I don’t understand.
“Are you happy?” I ask nervously.
“My wife, I… We’re going to have a baby!” Cameron announces joyfully, as if this is the first time we’ve all heard of it.
“Yes, this is true,” I’m laughing and maybe crying a bit but he’s so happy. The man who coldly kidnapped me from the church in Moscow is gone forever. This is the husband I married in Ireland, in Russia.Myhusband.
“How are you feeling, dear?”
The Lady Elspeth seats herself next to me on the enormous stone terrace outside of the MacTavish mansion. We’re watching the men playing some odd permutation of football with the twins riding piggyback on Cormac and Cameron.
