“Sir Douglas is writing a book,” Gillian said, flustered now. “About the tides. I shall help him with that.” She looked to her sister for help, but Fia’s thoughts were for her own man, her eyes on the sea, and she was oblivious to her sister’s fate. “Perhaps we should go in, Fia, out of the sun,” Gillian said, rising to her feet.
“Aye, moonlight’s what’s wanted,” Moire muttered. When Fia and Gillian glanced at her, she tilted her head. “Gillian’s right. It’s time to go in and rest awhile.”
“You’re right. I’ll go in and see the twins. I’ve ordered a watch set. They’ll call me as soon as the ship is seen,” Fia said. She cast one more look at the empty sea.
“Of course they will.” Gillian smiled at her sister as she helped her rise. “You’re as round as a plum, Fia.”
Fia patted her belly. “I know. Dair won’t find me pretty now.”
“You’re beautiful,” Gillian said. “You’re radiant, full of new life, his child.”
Moire caught the wistful look on the young woman’s face. Fia had said that Sir Douglas was past her father’s age, and he had a grown son. He didn’t expect or want more children. Gillian was a young and beautiful, and surely she deserved a full life with a virile, adoring husband.
Fia touched her sister’s cheek. “You should be radiant as well, Gilly, but you aren’t. Are you unhappy about your marriage?”
“Of course I’m happy. It is an honor, and Sir Douglas is . . .” She hesitated and blushed under her sister’s frown, glanced at Moire. Moire narrowed her eyes.He isn’t John Erly. Gillian looked away.
Fia leaned on her sister’s arm. “No doubt Sir Douglas is anxiously waiting for you to arrive. What a terrible tangle! Dair has two days to get here—two days—if you’re to sail on time. If you don’t leave soon, you’ll have no time to prepare for the wedding.” Fia frowned at Moire. “She can’t be late for her own wedding.”
“If the goddess wills that she’s meant to be there, she will be,” Moire said. “Pity English John isn’t going on the journey.” Gillian focused her gaze on the path at her feet.
“He hates the sea,” Fia said. “I asked him why once. He said only that he’d been on a ship before, found the voyage unpleasant. He wouldn’t say why.”
“If Dair doesn’t come, I suppose she’ll have to choose—she can stay here, or go home, or travel by land if she can’t have a ship,” Moire said.
Fia glanced up. “Aye, I suppose she could go by land, but it will take much longer. Perhaps Angus Mor can take you aboard theMaid, Gilly.”
“Angus Mor?” Moire said, frowning. “But Annie’s with child, due before the full moon, and that’s in a sennight.”
“But Annie births her bairns so easily,” Fia said.
“If the goddess wishes it,” Moire said with a shrug. “Angus won’t want to be away when she’s so close to her time.”
Fia’s eyes widened, and she stopped walking, her hand on her own belly. “What have you seen, Moire? Is Annie . . .” She shook her head. “No, wait—I don’t want to know. Dair will be home on the evening tide, and Annie will have another fine, strong lad, and Gilly will sail to Edinburgh in plenty of time for her wedding and will live happily ever after.”
Moire made another sign to the goddess “Then may it be as ye decree, Countess.” But it wouldn’t matter what Fia wanted. Fate had a way of interfering with human plans, and the goddess had a sense of humor.
“Aye, happily ever after,” she murmured as she took Fia’s other arm and helped Gillian to lead her inside to rest.
