“Why do you look at me so?” she demanded.
Erin was not abashed by her sharp tone. “Are you breeding, lass?”
Brenna had refused to admit it to herself. She would be damned if she would to anyone else.
“Nay, I am not!”
“I was going to ask the same thing, Brenna,” Maudya said. “Youhaveput on a little weight.”
“I said nay!” Brenna shouted, unconsciously covering her belly with her hands. “I am not with child, I tell you!”
All kinds of disastrous possibilities tumbled through her mind. Garrick rejecting her baby because of his hatred. Being forced to stay here like Cordella. It would not happen! Spring was here. She would go home soon, very soon.
The others left after her outburst, unconvinced by her denial.
Brenna spent a sleepless night filled with terrifying imaginings she could not control. She was in a highly nervous condition by morning, exhausted yet wide awake. She had finally accepted the truth. A child was growing within her.
“A child for a child,” she spoke aloud, feeling sorry for herself. “We can both play games, both throw tantrums. Lord, I don’t want to be a mother! I don’t know how!”
She cried, though she had done so all night long. Anselm must sail quickly, before anyone else noticed her plight. She must get far away from this heathen land and give birth to her child among her own people, where she need not fear for her baby’s life.
Brenna prepared to leave. When she opened the door, she felt as if the heathen gods were conspiring against her. The ground was covered with a white cloak of freshly fallen snow. How did it dare snow this late in spring? she wondered unreasonably.
Panic gripped her, and she rode with careless speed to Anselm’s settlement. She sought out Heloise and found her with Cordella. They were both sewing tiny clothes, clothes for a new baby. Did Cordella know what fate awaited her child if it was not born healthy? Did Heloise know? Brenna stared at the little garments, forgetting momentarily why she had come.
“You look flushed, Brenna,” Heloise commented, setting aside her sewing.
“It must be the light, milady,” Brenna said guiltily. “I feel well.”
“Would that we all did.”
“Milady?”
“Oh, my husband has become ill. ’Tis not serious, but he cannot abide taking to bed.” As if to prove her words, he bellowed from his room. “You see?”
“How soon will he be well enough to sail?” Brenna asked anxiously.
“’Twill not be soon, Brenna, but not too long. The ship was being refurbished until this unexpected snowfall. Now the men must wait till the weather warms again to continue. By then my husband should also be well.”
“But how long?”
“I would imagine early summer. That is a beautiful time of the year to sail.”
“Summer! I cannot wait that long, milady!” Brenna’s voice rose, though she did not realize it.
“Whatever is the matter, Brenna?” Cordella asked. “I was pleased when I knew you would not leave so soon. Now you will be here when I give birth.”
How impending motherhood had changed Cordella. She was no longer spiteful, filled with thoughts of vengeance. At last she was actually happy.
“It seems I have no choice but to stay, though of course seeing your child before I go will give me pleasure, Della. If you will send for me when your time comes, I will help you all I can.” I will see no harm comes to your baby, she added silently to herself, then bid them farewell.
When Brenna stepped outside to leave, she saw Garrick just riding into the yard. She stopped. Beside him, on a short-legged mare was Morna, her smile radiant, her laughter tinkling in the air.
Brenna met Garrick’s eyes and cringed at the icy look he gave her. She turned to go back into the hall, to hide, to run, to get far, far away from that look that hurt her worse than a physical blow. But the sound of Garrick’s voice stopped her again, torturing her with his soft tone.
“Let me help you down, my love.”
Brenna felt real pain choke her. He spoke her tongue, not his, so she would understand every word. He purposely flaunted Morna before her. How could he forgive her and not me? she cried inside.
