Highlanders (20 page)

“
Lady Isobel
,” Rhoslyn cut in.

Isobel closed her mouth, but no remorse shone in her eyes.

“Ye seem to know a great deal about the Kenzies,” Rhoslyn said with asperity. 

“Lady Taresa and my mother are friends.”

Rhoslyn wondered if Lady Taresa would appreciate Isobel’s gossip.

Shouts went up and Rhoslyn’s attention snapped to the racers as they shot forward from the starting line. St. Claire and two other men raced neck and neck ahead of the others.

“Why is Sir Talbot not pulling ahead?” Andreana asked. “He can easily outpace the other men.”

“I suspect Sir Talbot is a man who knows how to pace himself.” Lady Isobel looked at Rhoslyn. “Is that no’ so, Lady Rhoslyn?”

Rhoslyn had had enough. “Beware, Lady Isobel. St. Claire is no’ a man to toy with.”

One man pulled ahead as the racers reached the halfway mark. St. Claire stayed three paces behind the man, while everyone else strained to keep up with them.

Shouts of encouragement went up, and Rhoslyn listened to bets on who would win. Most favored St. Claire’s competitor. The racers neared the finish line and St. Claire shot past the other man and beat him by little more than a nose. The onlookers voiced a great cheer. A cheer for their laird: Sir Talbot St. Claire.

* * *

Talbot didn’t know his wife well, but he did know she was pregnant. She hadn’t told him. She didn’t have to. The last month she had welcomed him into her bed enough nights that he should have felt guilty. But he didn’t. He liked bedding her. More than liked. He needed her.

He’d regretted Rhoslyn’s decision to return to Castle Glenbarr, but it turned out for the best. She settled into a routine that seemed to please her—and he gleaned interesting tidbits from the servants. It had taken her seven years to conceive with her first husband, and he suspected she believed, and probably hoped, that she couldn’t conceive right away, if at all. That would have assuaged her worry that a child born too soon might be Dayton’s.

The inability to conceive had to have been her husband’s fault, not hers, for since Talbot had begun making love to her, her flux hadn’t come. She might be a woman whose flux was less regular, but she had grown short of temper, which told him she was worried.

He’d begun to suspect last week, but now... His head spun with the thought of becoming a father, a dream longed for, and now within sight. Edward loved him much, for Talbot achieved his goals too well, and made himself too valuable as a warrior. Then the Maid of Norway perished and the opportunity to bring Scotland to heel had been Talbot’s salvation. Or was Lady Rhoslyn his salvation?

He’d waited, hoping she would tell him about the child, but wasn’t surprised by her silence. Another three months and she wouldn’t be able to hide the truth. Might she wait that long? She might, but he wouldn’t.

Talbot thought to find her in her usual spot this time of afternoon, going over the household rolls in their private solar, but she wasn’t there. She wasn’t in her chambers, either. He turned from the room and happened a glance out the window. Their chambers overlooked the bailey. East, beyond the stables, grew a large oak tree—which his wife was climbing. Half a dozen women stood at the foot of the giant oak looking up at a cat. He knew that cat.

Talbot spun and hurried down to the great hall and out the door. Moments later, he reached the women. Their chatter ceased and they backed away as he reached the tree. Rhoslyn stood on the second branch, which was level with his chest. Half of her hem draped an arm, revealing a generous portion of leg. She stilled and looked down.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

She scowled. “What do ye think I am doing?”

“I think you are being foolish.”

“I am capable of climbing a tree, St. Claire.”

“Rhoslyn, come down.”

“Not until I fetch Lucifer.”

“Aptly named,” he said under his breath.

“Mayhap ye should come down, Lady Rhoslyn,” Dona said. The cat belonged to the old woman and was as ancient as she.

Talbot took a hold of his wife’s ankle. “I do not want you climbing that high.”

Her brows dove downward. “Take your hands off me, St. Claire, or I will—”

He seized her arm and yanked. She shrieked and tumbled into his arms.

Talbot stared down at her. “As I was about to say, you can fall.”

“Put me down.”

He obeyed.

“Ye had better start climbing,” she told him.

“The cat will come down when he is ready,” Talbot said.

“Have ye ever had a cat, laird?” Dona asked. “They are good climbers, but they often bite off more than they can chew. He will stay up there until he is too weak to climb down, then he will fall. We must bring him down.”

Talbot shifted his attention back to Rhoslyn. “I suppose if I do not get him down, you will be up that tree the moment I turn my back.”

“Aye,” she replied.

Yes, he would never have to wonder what this woman thought.

Talbot hoisted himself up onto the first branch, then climbed until he reached the branch below the cat, who perched halfway out on the limb.

“Lucifer, come,” he commanded.

Giggles wafted up to him.

“He is no’ a dog, St. Claire,” Rhoslyn called. “He will not come on command.”

The very reason he disliked cats. With a firm grip on an overhead branch, he eased out onto the limb. Lucifer meowed.

“Easy, laird,” one woman called up. “Ye dinna’ want to scare him.”

He did want to scare the cat. Talbot came within arm’s reach of the animal and the branch he stood on creaked. He halted and extended one arm.

“Come, Lucifer.”

The cat meowed.

“Come.”

Another meow, but the villain didn’t move.

Talbot inched out far enough to be able to grab the cat. Lucifer backed out of reach. Talbot looked down at the branch he stood on. Sturdy enough to hold Rhoslyn, no doubt. He considered leaving the task to one of the younger, smaller men, but threw an arm over the overhead branch and crept out farther.

“Careful, laird,” Dona called up. “That branch looks thin out there.”

The branch was thin. He reached the cat and grabbed its scruff before he could scamper away again. The limb beneath Talbot gave a loud crack and the cat hissed with a guttural meow, digging its claws into the exposed flesh of Talbot’s neck. Lucifer twisted and Talbot jerked in an effort to maintain his hold. The limb gave way beneath them as the cat hissed and sank its claws deeper into his flesh. They somersaulted in a tangle of fur and surcoat.

Talbot hit the ground on his side with a thud. The cat leapt from his arms and scampered off with Dona hurrying after him. Talbot drew a stuttered breath and blinked into focus the female faces that encircled him.

“Are ye in one piece, St. Claire?” Rhoslyn asked.

He noted the absence of sympathy.

“St Claire,” she said when he didn’t reply.

He groaned.

Her brow furrowed in uncertainty. “Surely, you are no’ hurt from that short fall.”

He’d fallen at least fifteen feet and was lucky he hadn’t landed on his neck.

“I dinna’ see any blood,” one woman said.

He groaned again and closed his eyes.

An instant later, slim fingers gently probed his head. “St. Claire,” Rhoslyn said.

This time concern filled her voice, desperate concern, if he wasn’t mistaken.

Talbot snapped open his eyes, seized her shoulders and dragged her to him for a sound kiss. Rhoslyn yanked back, mouth agape.

“
St. Claire
.” She tried to twist free, but he pulled her close and kissed her once more, slowly, this time.

“Aye, he is no’ harmed,” one woman said.

Talbot rolled on top of Rhoslyn, still kissing her.

“I would say he is healthy as a horse,” another said.

Rhoslyn finally managed to wedge her hands between them and he allowed her to push him away.

“Have ye lost your mind?” she demanded. “The ground is wet and cold. Get off me.”

He looked up at the women. “Do I not deserve a reward for risking my life?”

“I would say ye are risking your life lying on top of Lady Rhoslyn in public,” a woman said.

She had a point. Talbot looked down at his wife. Her dark eyes roiled with fury.

“Were you not the least bit worried I had injured myself?” he asked.

She gave a disgusted snort. “Ye should have let me climb the tree.”

His amusement vanished. “I can easily survive a fall. You and our child cannot.”

* * *

Rhoslyn’s eyes widen.

He knows
.

“Child?” Edina said.

“Lady Rhoslyn,” Molly cried, and they all began to talk at once.

St. Claire shoved to his feet and extended a hand toward her. Her heart pounded. He knew. But how? She wanted to slap his hand away. He lifted a brow. Rhoslyn narrowed her eyes. He shrugged and grasped her hand, pulling her to her feet. The women immediately encircled her, their chatter a muddle of congratulations, advice, and general joy.

“Why did ye no’ tell us?” Molly asked.

“The babe has been inside her a mere month,” Edina said. “She was probably waiting to be certain.” She looked at St. Claire. “But a husband knows.”

“Aye,” the others agreed, heads nodding in vigorous agreement.

Tears sprang to Rhoslyn’s eyes. The women were letting her know they accepted the baby as St. Claire’s without question. They began hugging her and laughing and she feared she wouldn’t be able to hold back the tears.

“Aye,” she managed in a level voice. “I wanted to be certain. As ye can see, St. Claire is going to be too protective.”

“Of course,” Tira said. He wants ye and the babe to be safe.”

Rhoslyn nodded. “Aye. Now I am a bit tired. Will you walk with me, St. Claire?”

“Go on,” Edina said. “Take a nap.” She looked at St. Claire. “Ye might want to put your wife to bed, laird.” She winked.

St. Claire bowed. “Excellent advice.” He turned to Rhoslyn and held out his arm. “My lady.”

She cast him a dark look, accepted his arm, and started away.  Opposite the stables, out of earshot of the woman, Rhoslyn said, “How did ye know?”

“As the women said, a husband knows.”

Rhoslyn snorted.

“No one told me,” he said. “I feel certain you told no one.”

No, she hadn’t. She still didn’t half believe it. All those years with Alec she had been so sure it was her fault she didn’t conceive. To conceive so quickly now had to mean it was Alec and not her who had been at fault. How many times had she knelt in the chapel, begging one saint after another for a child? Now, she had gotten pregnant within the first month of marriage. Mayhap, the first time.

They started around the stables and Rhoslyn grabbed St. Claire’s arm and pulled him around the back of the building. “Why did ye tell the women I am with child?”

“Because it is better they believe we are happy about the babe.”

She stiffened. “Then ye are no’ happy.”

He frowned. “What makes you say that?”

“You say it is better they
believe
we are happy. That implies ye are hesitant.”

“I am very happy. It is you who have misgivings.”

“Aye, I have misgivings. It is easy for you to say you will love the child no matter what. But when the babe doesna’ look or act like ye, anger and resentment will make you think differently.”

“Rhoslyn, the child is mine.”

“Ye hope it is yours,” she shot back.

He grasped her shoulders. “The child is mine.”

“Your brother—”

“My brother will never come near my children.
My children
. Do you understand?”

She searched his face. How she wanted to believe him.

He pulled her against his chest. At first she resisted, but he held her tight and rested his chin on her head.

“Lady Andreana is grown,” he said. “She will soon marry and leave our house. Do you not want children?”

She did, but what if the child wasn’t his? Worse, what if the child ended up buried beside Dougal?

St. Claire drew back, then pulled her against his side and began walking. “We should send word to your grandfather.”

“Nay,” she said too quickly, then amended, “Do no’ tell him in a missive. Invite him to come, then we will tell him in person. But let us wait at least a month.”

“Why?”

“Many things can go wrong in the first few weeks.”

“Like falling from a tree?” 

She slapped his arm. 

“Do you not think it better if everyone knows you are having my child?” he asked.

Rhoslyn looked at him. “Do ye believe your brother is still in Scotland?”