Thoughts of returning home brought about more thoughts of their future and what would become of them once he returned from Scotland. “Where will we live when all of this is over?” she asked. “I would like to think on something positive while you are gone.”
He lifted his eyebrows thoughtfully. “Hopefully Westbury will be returned to me when de Beaumont’s armies are victorious,” he said. “We will be going to the Welsh Marches.”
“I have never been there,” she said. “What is it like?”
He thought on Alberbury Castle, a place he hadn’t seen in a very long time. “Very mountainous,” he said. “There are dramatic rivers and tall mountains, green hills and big valleys. I think you will like it a great deal.”
“I am sure I will,” she said, stroking his cheek. “I am looking forward to raising our children there.”
He smiled faintly. “As am I,” he agreed, kissing her soft mouth. “Many, many children.”
His words were drowned out as he slanted over her lips hungrily, feeding on the adoration and passion he felt for the woman. All was well between them and that was all he cared about. He could focus on the army, and Scotland, tomorrow because tonight, all he could think of was Cathlina. He would give her every last bit of himself tonight and tuck the memories away to comfort himself with for times when he was feeling particularly lonely. Tonight, there were only the two of them, bathing in warmth and a love that was only once told of in legend.
Tonight, it belonged to them.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Two months later
August had burstupon the north of England in a riot of wildflowers. Everything that could possibly bloom was blooming because it had been very wet a few weeks earlier in the season and now it was sunny and warm. At Kirklinton Castle, it was now a game to coerce Saer into allowing his older daughters out of the castle long enough to collect a wagonload of flowers. He didn’t like the girls out and exposed so much but he couldn’t resist their begging, so he usually ended up escorting them to the meadows where the blooms were calling their names.
In spite of the glorious weather, Abechail’s health had been in rapid decline the past few months but more succinctly in the last few weeks. She was confined to bed mostly now because she was too weak to go about her daily routine as she usually had. Rosalund had the servants move her bed near the windows so she could at least look outside and she spent most of her time feeling the warm caress of a breeze on her face and watching the birds ride the drafts. Still, no one spoke of her illness or her impending death. Rosalund wouldn’t allow it and no one else was willing to face it, so Abechail fell into steady decline as the world went on around her.
Still, there was some joy in the de Lara household now that Cathlina had returned. She had come home about a month earlier, escorted by the Earl of Carlisle’s men, rosy and beautiful and happy. She also happened to be Lady de Reyne and pregnant, although she hadn’t figured it out yet until her motherhad informed her what the symptoms her body was displaying meant.
Then, no one could be angry at her for running off and marrying Mathias and Saer certainly couldn’t be upset with Mathias considering where the man was and what he was doing. The escort from Carlisle Castle had been sure to tell Saer that Mathias was now fighting in Scotland for Henry de Beaumont. Moreover, Mathias was to be the father of his grandson. Odd how old angers and prejudices towards Mortimer’s former attack dog suddenly dissolved with a child on the way and the fact that he was now evidently a restored knight.
Therefore, now in mid-August, things were nearly normal again. Roxane and Cathlina argued from time to time, Saer spent a good deal of his time on patrol of Carlisle lands with the earl in Scotland, and Abechail and Rosalund spent most of their waking hours together. Life was good for the most part, and it was typical, and no one tried to think on the horrors hanging over their head. For now, they pretended it was all happy because it was easier to cope that way.
The third week in August dawned warm and pleasant, as most of the days of the month had been. Cathlina rose before Roxane, as was usual, and called for warmed rosewater to bathe in. Surprisingly, she was feeling very well in early pregnancy with none of the illness that she’d heard tale about. Her belly was taut and slightly rounded, but that was the only sign that she was pregnant other than her womanly cycles had ceased. Daily she dreamed about telling Mathias of his son and wondering if his excitement would match her own. Hourly, she thought of him and of his trials in Scotland, praying he was well. She had become very pious over the past few weeks, praying daily at Kirklinton’s small chapel for Mathias’ safety and Abechail’s health.
After she bathed, she donned a soft yellow surcoat and shift, of lightweight linen in the warmer temperatures, and braided her long hair in two pretty braids to keep her heavy hair off her neck. Then she scurried next door to Abechail’s chamber and crawled onto the bed with her younger sister, who was just starting to awaken. Abechail giggled sleepily when Cathlina lay down beside her and gently tickled.
“Awaken, Abbie,” she said, kissing her sister’s cheek. “How are you feeling this morning?”
Abechail was as pale as death but smiled at her sister. “The same,” she said. “How is the baby? I cannot wait to see him.”
Cathlina fought back the gut-wrenching sadness of Abechail’s future, instead choosing to indulge the girl. There was no use in doing otherwise. If she was to dream, make them great and pleasant dreams.
“You will have to wait until spring to see him,” she said. “What do you suppose his name shall be? It should be something grand.”
“What would Mathias name him?”
Cathlina shrugged. “We have never spoken of children. I do not know.”
Abechail sighed faintly, her gaze inevitably moving to the lancet window near her head where she could see the brilliant blue sky beyond.
“A grand name would be an ancient and powerful name,” she said. “Do you see the birds outside? There is a family of hawks in the stones near the gatehouse and I have given them all great names.”
“What are their names?”
“Magnus, Maximus, Tiberius, and Lucius,” she said. “I have named them after Romans.”
Cathlina grinned. “Where have you heard such names?”
Abechail looked at her, a twinkle in her eye. “The same place you have,” she said. “Father has told me stories of the Romans who used to live here. He said there was a Roman fort not far from here and Magnus, Maximus, Tiberius, and Lucius were the soldiers there who held off an entire clan of Scots one day. They were very brave.”
Cathlina laughed softly. “I think that Father mayhap made the story up.”
