Not the poor young woman’s husband at all, but the man Tira had agreed to wed before her cruel abduction last year, Cora sighing again as she hastened to the door.
Was there any tale more heartrending than this one? In the four-poster bed behind her, Tira gasped at a second knock and rolled over onto her side, drawing the covers up tightly to her ear.
“Send him away, Cora,please!”
At Tira’s plaintive entreaty, Cora nodded, though in truth she wanted nothing more than to allow Errol entrance so he could at least see that Tira was feeling better than when Cora had first seen her.
Ah, God, what a night! Cora had immediately taken charge and directed Gavin’s helmsman to carry Tira upstairs to an empty bedchamber while Gavin had relinquished a swaddled babe from each arm to stunned maidservants—then rushed out to ride to the nearby village to fetch a wet nurse.
Errol, meanwhile, had been ordered to stay behind in the great hall where Cora had found him still pacing anxiously a few hours later, no matter Gavin had told him to try and get some rest.
Yet few in the castle had slept that night, an imminent calamity for the newborns indeed until a plump young woman with a babe of her own had arrived and both bairns had begun to suckle hungrily at her ample breasts.
Cora had deemed it a miracle a few days later when Tira’s wee daughter, who had cried so feebly when first placed in the wet nurse’s arms, had gained weight and healthy color enough to ensure her survival—though her sturdier brother’s had never really been in doubt.
Tira had gained color in her face, too, her cheekbones not half so prominent and her thinness not quite so stark at Cora’s gentle insistence that she try to eat every morsel of food set in front of her.
Not so easy a task for the lass, whose lovely eyes nonetheless had remained haunted and easily filled with tears. Cora had sat with Errol in the great hall that first night as he had spilled out what must have been Tira’s wretched existence during the past year and why, according to what Brody had told him, she didn’t want Errol to come near her.
Och, how could anyone blame her? In spite of her first inclination, Cora wasn’t going to allow him to see her now either, as Tira had begun to weep beneath the covers.
Pity swept Cora as she cracked the door to find Errol’s handsome face etched with worry, but she slowly shook her head.
“Not yet, I’m sorry tae tell you. Come back tomorrow morning and mayhap she will have changed her mind?—”
“Och, God, I canna wait any longer!” Errol whispered fiercely, his blue eyes narrowed with frustration—aye, and something more glistening there, Cora realized. Tears. He even went so far as to push upon the door, which startled her as she braced her knee against it to prevent him from entering.
“Will you disobey my husband?” she hissed, relieved when his hand at once fell away, and he appeared even more stricken when Tira’s sobs grew louder behind her. “He told you it was up tae the lass, you canna force these things, Errol! At least you’ve been able tae visit her bairns in the nursery—och, I will admit this much tae you. She was sleeping this morning when I came in and she cried out your name. That’s something tae give you hope, aye?”
Cora had kept her voice down so Tira wouldn’t hear her, which was aided by the sobbing that hadn’t ceased. Sighing, she closed the door on Errol without another word and turned back into the room, which was lit with sunshine from a high narrow window.
Sunshine that would do Tira much good if Cora could convince her to leave the bedchamber for the first time and mayhap venture a walk in the walled garden.
A walled garden filled with rose bushes, some already blooming, and where she had shared many walks with her beloved husband, Gavin having sailed on to Dumbarton only a day after his unexpected return.
A few precious hours of that day spent with their own twins, Sinclair and Maud, six years old now and growing so fast. Cora had longed for more children, but that prayer had goneunanswered—och, she was content enough with their family, and now she had Tira’s bairns to hold in her arms.
Nothing smelled sweeter than a babe…though Tira had yet to venture to the nursery or even ask about them, which deeply worried Cora.
Brody had told her that Tira wouldn’t look upon the two after their birth, so he had done what he could for them by dipping his finger in cool water so at least they would suckle and swaddling them in a blanket torn in half.
Yet was her apathy so surprising after what Tira must have suffered with Thorgren Sigurdson?
It made Cora shudder to remember the bite marks Seoras, her first husband, had inflicted upon her with his bestial ways in the bedchamber, the painful bruises and cruel slaps. Forcing away as best she could any thought of him, Cora lifted raven-black hair loosed from the coil at her nape to behind her ear and moved toward the bed.
Tira’s sobs had quieted now that the door was shut again, but she still huddled beneath the covers as if she didn’t trust that Errol hadn’t entered the room.
God help the poor lass, would she ever accept the bairns that had been spawned from ravishment and humiliation?
They were innocent, a gift from God…and there was a courageous young warrior walking desolately back down the hallway who had told Cora he would raise the two as his own if Tira would wed him?—
“H-he’s gone?”
“Aye, I sent him away.”
No answer came from beneath the bedclothes, which seemed to flutter as if Tira trembled with relief.
Cora wasn’t surprised she felt a twinge of frustration that mayhap Tira wished for the day when Errol would leave the castle, too.
