“I forgive you,” Robina said gently.
“Thank you.” Lockie’s voice was gruff and he avoided her gaze again as he strode away, head down.
This was not over. He would kill Alex. And if he could not kill him then he would cause him all the pain in the world. Even if that was the last thing he ever did.
On the ride back to the castle, Robina felt deeply uncomfortable. The sight of a pathetically shrunken Lockie abasing himself at her feet had not made her feel triumphant. It had made her sad, angry, and even more embarrassed. She could not see the point in the humiliation of one person to satisfy the needs of another. Anyway, this had not been about her, but about the pride of two men and their desire to prove which one of them was better. They had no more sense than a pair of rutting stags, in fact less, because stags were only animals.
“What is it?” Alex asked her as soon as they were in the dining room. He was still pumped up from the fight, feeling as though he could fight the whole battle over again. “He said sorry. Are you not pleased?”
Robina plopped herself down in a chair and began to heap butter on a pile of oatcakes. She always seemed to be famished these days, and although the nausea had gone, she was plagued by constant heartburn that kept her awake at night. She wished that for one day, just one day, Alex could feel what she was feeling. Then perhaps he would stop behaving like an overgrown child.
“What pleases you and what pleases me are obviously different things, Alex. Yes, he did embarrass me, but two wrongs do not make a right. It gave me no satisfaction to see him like that.”
Alex looked at her over a spoonful of scrambled eggs. “I see.” He shrugged. “Well, it is done now, Milady, and if it worries you, then I will be the second man who apologizes to you today.” He ate his eggs, then abruptly his mood changed. “Let us not fight, sweetheart, especially not now.” He placed a hand on hers then looked at her keenly. Her face was pale and she had dark circles around her eyes.
Anxiety seized him as he realized that she might be ill, she might lose the baby, and he might lose both of them.
“Are you feeling all right, Robina?” he asked fearfully as he went around the table to kneel beside her. “Should I send for the wise woman?”
“No, it will pass. I just feel so tired all the time,” she complained irritably, yawning, “and hungry, and I have a headache, and a burning here.” She pointed to her chest. “I hate this. This is all your fault!”
Alex tried to take all this without complaint, since it was a familiar story. According to every married man he knew, women were always like this when they were with child. “I know, lovie. Let us get you some medicine, then you can go to sleep. Poor wee thing.” He lifted her up and took her to their bedroom, where he settled her in bed. After drawing the covers over her, he rang for a maidservant to bring a honey and mustard mixture for the heartburn, then willow bark tea for the headache.
“Will you sing my song?” she asked, smiling.
“Your lullaby?” He laughed. She nodded, and he began to sing.
“Sleep is flying in tonight
With downy wings a-spread.
To close my wee one’s tired eyes
And rest her weary head.
Sleep my babby,
Sleep my babby.
Morning waits for you,
Morning waits for you.
“Mammy watches over you
To keep her bairn from harm.
Pappy goes to shear the sheep
To keep his baby warm.
Sleep my babby,
Sleep my babby.
Morning waits for you,
Morning waits for you.”
