Page 298 of Wicked Highland Heroes

“What is wrong, my lady?” he asked Rhoslyn. “Are you ill?”

She shook her head, her eyes on the baby. “She doesna’ have your fair hair.”

Then he understood. Talbot leaned forward and brushed a kiss on Rhoslyn’s sweat soaked forehead, then whispered, “I see a hint of your red hair. She is beautiful.” He placed the baby in Rhoslyn’s arms and was reminded of Lady Taresa’s words. “Have you ever been so in love, that you would have thrown all caution to the wind for her?”

And he understood.

“If ye dinna’ let me see my grandchild, I will kill you, St. Claire,” Seward called from the other side of the curtain.

Diana pulled the curtain back and Seward entered. Sir Derek stood beyond, near the hearth, staring into the fire as if none of them existed. Something he held glistened in the firelight and Talbot realized it was a length of gold and ruby jewelry.

Seward stopped beside Talbot. “A daughter?” he said.

Talbot shifted his gaze to the baron. “Aye.”

“Give her to me,” Seward said. “She needs to know her grandfather.”

* * *

Rhoslyn awoke to a squalling baby.

“She is hungry again.” Diana laid the baby at Rhoslyn’s breast.

Rhoslyn tugged down the top of her shirt and the baby latched onto the exposed nipple.

“She is a lusty one,” Diana said. “Have ye named her yet?”

Rhoslyn looked at St. Claire. He stood at the side of the bed, staring down at the baby with the same dazed look he’d had since she placed the baby in his arms. It seemed that becoming a father had reduced the mighty warrior to mush.

Rhoslyn unexpectedly remembered her intention to ask St. Claire about Abbess Beatrice. What would have happened had the abbess not told him of Rhoslyn’s flight from the convent? She would be in Longford Castle married to Jacobus and waiting for their child to be born. No, St. Claire said he would have razed the castle, then brought her home.

She smiled. “What say you, St. Claire? Have we a name?”

He shook his head.

“Mayhap we should name her after your mother.”

“Aye,” he said, but she knew he wasn’t really listening.

“Peigi,” she urged.

His eyes shifted to her face and understanding glimmered. “I did not know her. Perhaps Taresa? Taresa Peigi?”

A lump formed in her throat. Beyond the alcove, Sir Derek stood near the table at the hearth. She had seen him come and go earlier, seen the sorrow that haunted his dark eyes. She understood that sadness. When Lady Taresa had fallen after Brett Carr’s sword pierced her midsection, Rhoslyn had raced to her side and dropped to her knees beside her.

“Be safe, Rhoslyn,” she had said. “Love him. He is a good man.” Rhoslyn thought those were to be her last words, but she added in a whisper. “Tell him I love him. Tell them both.”

Rhoslyn shifted her gaze to St. Claire. They both had to know Lady Taresa was gone, for she was not with Rhoslyn. But they didn’t know what had happened.

“I did no’ tell you. Taresa—” Sir Derek took a step toward the alcove. Tears choked her throat.

St. Claire sat on the bed beside her and covered her hand with his. The baby’s mouth fell from her breast. She had fallen asleep. Rhoslyn pulled her shirt up over her breast and nestled the baby in her arm, then looked at him.

“She loved ye.” Rhoslyn looked at Sir Derek and said in a louder voice, “She loved you both.”

“What happened?” St. Claire prodded.

“Come closer, Sir Derek,” Rhoslyn urged. He hesitated, then came as close at the invisible line created by the curtain. “Taresa gave her life for us. For all of us.” It took a moment for Rhoslyn to be sure she could speak. Then she said, “Lady Taresa could see the hard pace Dayton set was taking its toll on me. It was clear your brother had no intention of stopping for anything short of death. Lady Taresa rode with Brett Carr. The bastard,” Rhoslyn added under her breath.