“Envy,” Una murmured at last. “I feel envious.”
“I see. Of whom?”
“Kyla.”
The instant the words were out of her mouth, Una knew she’d made a mistake. Now that she’d begun, she knew she’d end up telling him.
Stupid, stupid,she chastised herself.
“Kyla?” Struan repeated, looking a little surprised. “Why?”
She closed her eyes.Maybe it’s what he needs to hear.
“Kyla is pregnant.”
The words were heavy between them. Una regretted every word. It was too late, though. Much too late.
“Kyla?” Struan echoed, his voice tight. “Pregnant?”
“Aye. It’s a surprise, but… it’s good news, aye? Good news.”
He swallowed, glancing away. “No news is good news. Not truly.”
A bairn of Kyla’s, especially a son, could rival Struan for the position of Laird Dickson, should the current laird die,Una realized, swallowing thickly.
Should she have told him?
I should have let Kyla tell him. I’ve let her down once more.
“I’m sure Kyla is pleased,” Struan said briskly. “She’ll make a fine mother.”
“Aye, she will. She is excited. They all are.”
“It’s hard to imagine,” he murmured, shaking his head. “My baby sister with a baby.”
“Ye will be an uncle.”
He glanced down at her, and there was something hard in his eyes. “Ye think that baby will be brought up to look at me as family? Don’t be naive.”
Una flinched at his harsh words.
“I am not naive.”
“Ye are naive if ye think that this war will end with us all friends. I’m kept alive now because I am useful. Once the war is over, if Grahame and Kenneth and the others win, my usefulness will be over. I’ll be finished.”
Una flinched again at that, staring up at him with wide eyes.
“What do ye mean, finished?”
He snorted, shaking his head. “I’m sure ye can guess.”
Abruptly, he turned and began to stride away. Something like unease settled in Una’s chest. Shrugging off her quiver and setting it down beside her bow, she hurried after him.
“Struan, wait!”
“Wait for what?”
“Why are ye being so unfriendly? So unkind? I thought we were…”
