Brenna smiled. “Very well, milady. But I will still make payments for this house. I will not live here on charity.”
“You are the most stubborn girl I have ever known, Brenna. I can see you now, nearing your time, out in the woods hunting rabbit! You will be the scandal of the land.”
Brenna laughed strongly, the first time she had done so for a long while. “I have been a scandal all my life, milady.”
Brenna longed for the day it would all be over and she could hold her baby in her arms. She wanted a girl child, a little daughter like she had never been, with raven hair and gray eyes. She wanted to see nothing of Garrick in the child. Life had been cruel enough, and she needed no more of its disappointments.
With the end of summer the days grew shorter, but they still did not pass quickly enough for Brenna, who was quite large now. She still hunted in the woods, but not as often, for twice a week, every week, she found fresh meat or fish on her doorstep, and she could not very well throw it away. A cow had been left to graze in their back yard, and with extra time on Brenna’s hands, she helped Linnet and Elaine, the servant Heloise had sent, make butter and cheese from fresh milk. Brenna enjoyed these times of sharing, but whenever Garrick entered her thoughts, she needed to be alone, to bear her hurt privately.
It was on such a day that Brenna went hunting, even though it was unnecessary. She walked deep into the woods, her brooding thoughts making her unaware of the distance she traveled. When at last she noticed her surroundings, she did not recognize them. She began to backtrack.
After she had gone a short way, Brenna had the gnawing suspicion that someone was watching her. She could not shake the feeling, even after looking about to see if anyone was there and finding no one. She continued on more quickly.
Then she saw the rider, too heavily cloaked for such mild weather, hood drawn so Brenna had no idea who it was. The rider just sat there atop a large horse, not more than fifty feet from her. Unreasoning fear made Brenna’s hands begin to sweat. She loaded her crossbow, then moved on cautiously as if she were not disturbed in the least. She began to relax as she put distance between them until she heard the sound of a horse galloping at her from behind.
Brenna swung around just in time to get out of the way of the charging animal. It raced by, just barely missing her. Brenna could hardly believe what was happening. The rider had tried to kill her! When she saw him turn the horse about and come at her again, she began to run. She was too clumsy to run fast, and the sound of the horse approaching became louder and louder. She turned to fire her weapon, but she had waited too long, and the animal was upon her.
She was hit squarely on her shoulder and the impact knocked her to the ground, though she was able to brace her fall. She lay there breathing heavily and felt no injury. After a few seconds, the urge to reach safety returned. However, when she tried to rise, pains shot through her middle, making her scream from deep within. Then she heard the evil laughter, a woman’s laughter, and the sound of the horse receding in the distance.
The pain came again and she screamed again, unable to stop. As she lay there feeling the black clouds of unconsciousness nearing, she could only think of one thing. Her baby was coming, but it was too soon, much too soon.
Brenna opened her eyes just a crack. Across the haze of bright sunlight filtering through the trees, she saw Garrick, his blond hair longer than usual, an unruly beard covering his face. Why would he look thus in her dream when she had never seen him this way before? He was holding her—no, he was carrying her someplace. She wanted to wake quickly, for even to dream of Garrick hurt her. Yet this was a different kind of pain, a dull, nagging ache.
“Go away, Garrick,” Brenna whispered. “You are hurting me.”
“Be still,” he replied.
Garrick wanted her to suffer. He would haunt her dreams forever just to make her suffer. Dear God, the pain is real! She screamed, a sound she did not recognize as her own. Then the dream ended.
“First the fever, then she nearly dies of cold and starvation, and now this! How many times can she face death and survive?”
“’Tis not a question of how many times, but whether she can survivethistime.”
Brenna heard the low, whispering voices near her. First her aunt, then Heloise. Now she heard another voice, deeply masculine, coming from far away.
“Where is the child birther?”
“Who is that?” Brenna asked weakly.
Linnet came to her side and smoothed the hair away from her face. She was pale, and for once looked older than her years.
“Do not spend your strength with questions, Brenna. Here, drink this.”
Linnet placed a cup of wine to her lips and she drank it all. Brenna stared at her aunt with growing alarm, feeling pain spreading through her body.
“Were you just speaking of me? Am I dying?”
“Please, Brenna, you must rest.”
“Am I?”
“We pray not.” Heloise came forward. “But you are bleeding, Brenna, and—and—”
“And my baby is coming now, too soon,” Brenna finished for her, and a wave of fear made her skin crawl. “Will it live?”
“We do not know. Other babies have come before their time, only—”
“Go on.”
