Mary clenched her jaw as he raised his glass to his bride of only a few weeks. Seona had warned of this. Whether she was truly with child or not, she was consolidating her position, and weakening any argument Mary might make against her.
“To Lady Seona, may ye give me, and Rose, a strong, healthy son.” He took her hand and pulled her to her feet as the clan members in the hall cheered their new lady.
Mary forced a smile to her lips. She wanted the same as her father, after all. A male heir—but of his line, not the guardsman’s. Though either, if her father claimed the lad, would eventually free her from her responsibilities to Rose. She would have choices. Poor Seona would have none. If she birthed a son, Da would want another as a spare. As many sons as she could give him. Lads to ensure the posterity of James Rose’s line. His eldest daughter would serve no purpose in the succession. Her only value would lie in forging an alliance through marriage. At least her father would no longer need her to remain at Rose. So she smiled and nodded to her father as he reveled in this moment. For reasons of her own, so did she.
Two hours later, a lad brought her a summons from the healer to come to her father’s chamber. The lad looked scared and sad. Concerned, Mary hurriedto the door. Could Seona already have lost the babe she claimed to be carrying? So soon after her father’s prideful announcement? She feared it would break his heart. If the pregnancy was real, she couldn’t guess what Seona’s reaction would be. But in any case, the loss of the bairn would be a loss for the whole clan.
Her father sat in a shaft of light from the open window on the edge of his bed, pale and shaking. He wore his linen shirt, a plaid and a fur throw draped over his legs. The healer stood over him, holding his left wrist in her capable hands. His new bride sat in a tufted chair near the hearth. Wrapped in a rich brocaded robe and woolen shawl, she remained still and silent as a wraith, her expression no more revealing than usual. Mary could guess what they’d been doing, but she didn’t want to know.
“What happened?” Mary asked, entering the chamber. “Is the bairn all right? Da, why are ye…”
“'Twas a wee tremor, naught more,” Da replied. “Likely from too much whisky. They shouldna have sent for ye. I am well.”
Mary gasped, at once relieved Seona had not lost the baby and concerned at her father’s sudden illness.
“Are ye?” the healer responded. “Make a fist for me, then.”
“Let go of me, ye daft auld woman.”
“Make a fist and I’ll let ye be.”
He made a fist with his free hand and swung it just under her nose, but stopped before he hit her. “Release me,” he snarled.
She didn’t budge, merely looked down at his left hand.She’d set it on the bed when he swung at her with his other hand.
She pointed. “Ye didna feel that, did ye?” He inhaled and she held up a hand to silence his denial. “Ye have developed a terrible palsy in yer left hand and lower arm. Ye didna feel the difference between it being held in my hand and lying on the bed. I could cut off yer arm below the elbow and ye’d no’ ken it ’till ye saw the blood spurt. Now will ye listen to me?”
Mary sank into the other hearthside chair, her knees suddenly weak. “What does this mean?”
“It means yer da is getting older than he’d like to admit, wed to a lass who could be his youngest child. Pah!” She spared a frown for Seona, who stared at the low flames in the hearth and, except for a slight narrowing of her brows, didn’t seem to notice she’d been disparaged. “Wearing himself out, most likely. A strain he can scarce afford, keeping up with a lass her age.”
“Silence, ye auld witch,” her father snarled. “I’ll no’ hear this in my own chamber, certainly no’ before one of my daughters.”
“I helped the auld healer birth ye,” the healer responded. “I dinna plan to wash yer body before they plant ye. But if ye have more of these episodes, I may have to. ’Tis a good thing she’s carrying,” the healer continued, matching her laird snarl for snarl and gesturing toward his silent bride. “Now ye’ll have to leave her be. Ye could use the rest.”
Mary couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Her father was that ill? Then she noticed a lift at the corners of Seona’s mouth. Not quite a smile…yet.
Her father pushed the healer’s hand away. “Idinna need…”
“Yeareill, James. Face it, and take care of yerself, or worse may happen.”
Suddenly terrified, Mary couldn’t remain still. She stood while her father objected to the healer’s demands.
“Canna be ill,” he muttered. “Must no’.” His gaze slid from the healer to Seona, then to Mary. “I canna leave Rose in the hands of a pregnant young wife or in Mary’s alone.”
Seona’s gaze cut to him. She frowned, then quickly smoothed it away.
A shiver ran down Mary’s spine. What had Seona planned? Mary found herself willing to consider the notion that her father’s new wife was poisoning him. Yet it made no sense. His headaches had started before the trip to Grant. “Ye’ll be fine, Da. Just rest. Seona will be a good wife to ye and give ye sons. Just be patient.”
Seona settled back in her chair and crossed her arms, looking satisfied. A cat replete, with cream still on her whiskers. Seona’s mask was slipping.
“Ye will stay at Rose,” he demanded, his gaze skewering Mary, dark and fierce until he blinked. “Ye will no’ leave me until the babe comes and the succession is settled. I’ll let ye go then, make whatever match ye wish. I willna arguethenif ye dinna arguenow.”
Her father had to be frighted to bargain with her. The revelation sickened her. She hated to see him vulnerable and weak, no matter how much of a tyrant he could be. Mary shook her head. “I wouldna leave ye ill and worried, Da. Ye ken me better than that.”
Yet with that promise to her father, she knew in her bones she’d sealed her fate. After this, even if her fatherrecovered fully, he’d depend on her more than he had in the past. He didn’t trust Seona's competence to run Rose, and with good reason. Mary knew she’d have to be more involved to help raise and train any male child, any brother, she thought with a shiver, when, or if, he came along, no matter who sired him. She considered again whether she should have told her father what she suspected, but one look at him now and she knew she could not add to his burdens. Not now. Perhaps never. To protect her father, she might be forced to accept another man’s child as the heir to Rose.
Still, she would not leave her father at Seona’s mercy. Seona’s expressions, subtle as they were, worried her. Her father had first gotten ill before the wedding, even before the trip to Grant, but that didn’t prevent Seona from doing something to make him worse. Her father’s life—and perhaps, her own, might be at risk, as she’d feared before the wedding. The Grant guardsmen within the keep would do Seona’s bidding without question. And what Mary could do against her father’s lawful wife, she didn’t know. Watch and wait, and hope for the best, she supposed. She crossed her arms over her chest and indulged for a moment in wishing Cameron was here. His powers of observation were better honed than hers. He might notice things she missed.
