Her child would be born in a byre.
She wouldn’t have a midwife.
And they’d probably be on their own for the first several months of the bairn’s life.
Still, it wasn’t a completely abhorrent thought.
The Christ child had been born in a byre, after all.
Her husband could serve as a midwife.That undoubtedly frightened him more than it did her.But Carenza had delivered coos and lambs and piglets all her life.She knew what to do.
And as far as being on their own, it might be pleasant to be alone with her wee family, out from under the influence of grandparents with strong opinions.
It wasn’t ideal, but she could make do with this situation.
Even as she took a breath to assure Hew she would be fine staying in the byre, white flakes began to drift down between them.
Hew clenched his fists, as if priming to do battle with the elements.
“We need to go,” he decided abruptly.
No question.No discussion.No hesitation.
She blinked.
Hew had made up his mind when he’d first risen and stepped outside.
He knew by the stillness in the air.By the cold.By the color of the clouds.
Snow was coming.
For several moments before Carenza arose, he’d stared at the heavy heavens, torturing himself with self-blame and self-loathing.
He should have taken her home weeks ago.
How could he have been so selfish?So irresponsible?So determined to watch out for his own safety that he’d trapped his innocent wife with him?So intent on keeping her for himself that he would sacrifice her happiness for his own desires?
What kind of savage was he to keep his pregnant wife in a hovel like this?
And what kind of father was he to endanger the life of his child?
He’d been a fool to delay so long.Before, coming out of hiding had meant risking his arrest.Now it meant risking the lives of Carenza and their bairn.
But he could afford to delay no longer.They had to go, no matter the cost.
“Go?”Carenza asked.“Go where?”
“Dunlop,” he said, pushing past her to begin packing what they’d need.
“And risk the king’s wrath?And our arrest?Nay.”
“You needn’t worry.None of this was your fault,” he said, hauling out his largest satchel and stuffing it with wool plaids.“No one will blame you.Not your father.Not Gellir.Not the king.’Twas allmydoing.”
“This?”she exclaimed, cradling her belly.“’Twas most certainlynotall your doing.I seem to recall givin’ ye little choice in the matter.”
Hew seemed to recall that as well.But no one else would believe that.And that was as it should be.Carenza was too pure of heart to be branded a fallen woman or a wanton.He was much better suited to take on the burden.Many already considered him a boorish lecher anyway.
Nay, he didn’t want to debate her.
