Moonstone (13 page)

Was he that obvious?
“Nay. I canna.”

H
er fingers twisted in wool, then released again.

“My thoughts may be rampant, but I’ve control over my actions.”

She nodded, sighing as if glad to be reminded. At least she believed him now. The nights they’d spend on the moor together were not in vain.

“I should put one of your shirts on over this.” She gestured to the plaid.

“Do not.” He said it with too much force, making her brows arch. “It willna kill me to look.”

Her mouth opened, then closed again. Her brows drew together and her gaze slid over him. He didn’t want to flatter himself, but he thought he was beginning to understand why she did that. She really was
sizing
him up. He wished he knew how to make her realize that sharing a bed with him would not be the horrifying experience she thought it would.

“It doesna have to hurt,” he whispered.

Rhiannon’s gaze came back to his face. She reddened, and then she looked away altogether. “I do not know what you’re talking about.”

“Aye, you do.”

Her jaw worked. “Very well, then. But I am not talking about this.”

“I warned you that we would. Talk. About a lot of things.”

“You also promised not to force me into anything, right before you had my maid stand in proxy for me at my own wedding.”

“That was her idea.”

“You are mixing words.”

“Aye. I am.” It was time to change the subject. For now. They had a few hours before bed. He would gauge the situation then. Not that he thought she would be ready tonight, but he had to decide whether encouraging her to sleep alongside him in an actual bed would be good for her, or terrifying. “I have been away too long,” he said. “My shoulder hurts. Too many nights spent sleeping on the ground.”
  

She looked at him from under her lashes
with a small, but genuine smile. Then her brow furrowed as if she couldn’t decide how best to articulate her thoughts. “Now that sounded like something my father would have said to my mother.”

H
e leaned forward, elbows on knees. “I remember little of my parents, only snatches. The sound of their voices, the color of my mother’s hair, and the songs she used to sing.”

“You were young then?”

“Aye. And then my uncle lost his wife when I was eleven. The only example I’ve had is Triona and Ronan.” William hoped she understood what he was getting at.

She nodded.

“All I know is how it felt to walk down the corridor just now, knowing you were here behind my door.” He wanted to touch her, wondered if he should risk it. Should he give her space? He really should wait for her to come to him.

He might die if
he waited for her.

“Can I touch you?” he asked.

“Not like this.”

“
I am capable of
just
holding you. Even if you are dressed in my plaid.”

She stood. “I do not think you . . .”

He came to his feet, slipping his arms around her. Rhiannon stiffened momentarily, and then gave in, looping her unbound arm around his neck with a sigh.

“If you knew everything about me,” she said. “You will come to hate me for it.”

“You assume that you are the only person with a past they would like to forget.”

“Some things cannot be forgotten.”

William cupped the back of her head, fingers weaving through her damp hair, and then lifted her face to his. He lowered his forehead until it touched hers. He was grateful for her scabbed lip. It kept him at bay. Once it had fully healed, and he could remove the stitch, he wasn’t sure he would have the strength to stop himself. She’d be so perfect.

Stop it. Can you not think about something else?

“I want
more for you,” she whispered, her fingers curling into his hair. Rhiannon kneaded the back of his neck, her eyes misty.

A knock at the door jarred her. Rhiannon
pulled out of his arms before he could stop her. “That must be Alice,” she said.

She crossed the room and opened the door.

William considered throwing himself out the window.

Alice
walked in, holding up Rhiannon’s petticoat. “This is a little damp, but I think you will be fine.” She saw William and stopped. Alice looked at Rhiannon, then back at him, blushing. “I should go.”

“Nay, Alice,
stay.” Rhiannon took up her clothes, scrutinizing them. She looked at William. “How long before the evening meal?”

“Alice,” William ordered over Rhiannon
’s head. “Go to my cousin’s solar. Tell her to choose three of her gowns for your lady, along with undergarments. Pick one for tonight and instruct a seamstress on how to alter it for her.”

“Aye, my laird.”

“Three?” Rhiannon turned to face him. “One is plenty.”

“Go on Alice
.”     

“I cannot take her clothes,” Rhiannon said.

“I dinna think you have any choice.” He kissed her forehead, then looked at the bathing cask. The water would be cold by now, but he didn’t care. “You might want to turn around. Not that I mind, but you might.”

Alice scurried from the chamber, closing the door behind her. William glanced at Rhiannon and saw her eyes widen.

“William,” she warned.

He set his weapons aside. “You are clean, and I’m not. Do you really want me like this?” He tossed his shirt aside. Rhiannon’s gaze flicked over his torso, her cheeks tinting pink. He loved that she could still blush after what had been done to her.

When he unbelted his plaid she turned around.

“I should leave,” she said, looking at the ceiling.

He slid into the water, fishing for the bar of soap she’d left behind. “Not dressed the way you are. Sorry, my lady, but you will just have to tolerate it.”

She sat on the bed, facing away from him. “Let me know when you are finished.”

Chapter
Twelve

After supper, Rhiannon sat before the fire in the great hall with William, Triona, and Ronan. Shifting sideways in her seat, she tucked her knees against her chest and smoothed her hand over the soft blue wool of her new gown.

Triona stood, Ronan following. He had their baby in his arms,
wrapped in a knitted blanket. Rhiannon marveled at the sight of it. If she had seen Ronan out on the street, she would have pegged him for a rogue, not a devoted father and husband.

“’Tis getting late,”
Triona said. “We will see the
both
of you tomorrow.” She smiled.

Rhiannon
watched them walk away together.

Sh
e took up her cup on the side table near her chair and forced herself to drink the herbs she’d secretly slipped into it. They tasted awful, but she had to take them. Renewing her determination, she forced the ground plants at the bottom past her gag reflex. Rhiannon hoped she’d put enough of the right herbs in. She’d taken them out of Alice’s collection, and didn’t exactly know what she was doing. But since there was little hope of her being brave enough to submit her body to William’s within the next few weeks, she hadn’t any choice but to try this.  

William stood
, holding out his hand for her. Rhiannon set her cup aside and unfolded her legs, rising to her feet. She wondered how she would hide the symptoms of her miscarriage from him. Biting her lower lip, she slipped her hand into his.  

His solid
warmth gave her strength.

S
he could do this, rid herself of Geoffrey once and for all. Somehow, she would make not a sound. William was travel-weary and would sleep well tonight in his own bed. He would never know what she’d done. They walked through the archway and up the stairs. Torchlight painted uneven shadows along the walls.

William stopped, not at his door, but at the one before it, then
took her hand and turned it so that it was palm side up. He placed an iron key into her fingers.

Rhiannon looked up at him.

“This chamber adjoins mine. Your maid is already within. If you need anything, I am right next to you. No one needs to know about this save Alice.”

Tears stung her eyes and
she closed her hand around the key. It was warm from his body heat. “Thank you.” He had no idea how perfect this truly was.

S
lipping within the chamber, Rhiannon closed the door and leaned back against it. Once this was over, she would go to him and give back the key. Then she would sleep in his chamber with him. She was pretty sure he wouldn’t force her into anything she wasn’t ready for yet. 

Alice
crossed the chamber to her. “Are you well? You look pale?”

“I am fine. I have not been better in months.”

“I have two more gowns for you. They are very pretty. Would you like to see them?”

“
Not tonight.” Rhiannon placed the key on the mantel over the fireplace. “I just want to sleep.” She looked around the room. It was about one third the size of William’s, with a smaller, but similarly designed, granite hearth and an arched window. The two rooms were connected by an oak door with iron filigree hinges. The bed was half the size of his.

A child’s room? Three
bairns
could snug into the smaller bed.

It seemed
Triona and Ronan had plans for William. The expectations it must have put on him. She wondered how that made him feel. Then she realized that it no longer mattered. As Triona had said, they had been waiting for her. And Rhiannon was not going to disappoint.

Alice
untied her sling, then unlaced Rhiannon and relieved her of her outer garments. Off came her leather latchet shoes.

Her stomach
tightened and she rubbed her lower abdomen. “You can go now, Alice.”

Alice’s brow furrowed with concern
. “You truly do look unwell.”

“I am tired
is all.”

“Are you sure-”

“Yes, of course.” Rhiannon smiled through a burst of pain. “I shall see you in the morning.”

“
Very well. Goodnight, my lady.”

Rhiannon stumbled to the bed, collapsing onto it, fear
beginning to strangle her determination. What if she’d used the wrong herbs and poisoned herself? Or what if she’d taken too many and it caused permanent damage to her fertility?

* * *

William awoke to icy fingers on his bare flesh. He caught Rhiannon as her slender body collapsed against him.

She was in a chemise, h
er hair hanging half over her face and her warm breath bathing his skin. The initial shock of her chilled fingers burned immediately off, replaced by a healthy dose of excitement. Excitement was soon followed by an even healthier dose of reality. William knew she wasn’t throwing herself at him, no matter how much he might have wished for it.

“What’s wrong?”
he asked.

“I didn
’t want to tell you. I hoped, maybe I hoped . . .” She cringed, her fingers scrabbling over his arms. “I was wrong. I shouldn’t have.”

“Tell me
.” His words held more of an edge than was necessary. He took a breath to calm himself.

Rhiannon’s back arched, her face a mask of pain, her
fingernails digging into his arms. “I’m miscarrying. No one told me it would feel like this.”

He let go of her. His throat closed and he had to swallow before he could speak. “Why didn’t you
tell me?”

“I couldn’t
. I-I couldn’t.”

“What were you going to do once it became obvious?”

She turned away, stumbling onto the floor. “I took herbs from Alice’s collection.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “I have heard that when used in the right combination, they can force a miscarriage.”

William watched her sitting there, doubled over with her arms around herself, and wanted nothing mor
e than to take it all away. The pain, the doubt, the fear. “You should have told me.”

“That I carried another man’s child?”
She looked up, her face streaked with tears.

“Aye.”

He almost got out of bed, hesitated, then did anyway. Rhiannon hid her face against bent knees so she wouldn’t have to look at his naked body. He tucked his arms around her and scooped her up, then laid her out on his bed.

R
eaching for his shirt, William realized his arm was smeared with blood. He looked at her, on her side. Sakes, but she bled. It was soaked through her chemise.

William
dressed. “I’m going to get Triona.”

Rhiannon nodded, her eyes wide and frightened. She reached out her hand and he took it, pressing his lips against the inside of her palm.

“I will be back,” he said, glancing at her lying in his bed, bleeding. Then he closed the door and continued down the corridor.

Why this?

Why?

And w
hy couldn’t she have told him? Did she still understand nothing?

H
e pounded on Triona and Ronan’s chamber door and Ronan opened it. “William? What’s wrong?”

“Triona needs to go to Rhiannon
,” he said, from between his teeth. “Now.”

Triona
appeared at the door in her chemise, long blonde hair loose. “What happened?”

“She miscarries
.” It was hard to say. He had to push the words past his raw throat. “There is a lot of blood.”

Triona paled. “I’
m coming.” She wrapped her arisaid around her. Ronan dressed and followed, rubbing the last of the sleep from his eyes.

Triona stopped William at his door
, her hand on his arm. “You stay out here.” She looked at Ronan. “Dinna let William in this room. Do you hear me?”

Ronan nodded
. “Aye, I understand.” 

“But I told her I would-”

Triona shut the door in William’s face. Ronan took him by the arm and dragged him away from it.

“Trust me,” Ronan said. “You dinna want to be there for this.”

William pulled away. “I need to get out of here.” He tore his hands through his hair. “Nay, I canna leave her. I . . .”

She was hurting, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He’d already lost his parents, as well as countless friends, to war or disease.

He felt like he was coming unhinged, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Turning, he slammed his fist into the wall
. Stone was harder than a man’s jaw. He looked at his hand, watching as blood ebbed over his knuckles.

“’Tis Geoffrey’s, isn’t it?” Ronan said, quietly. He tore off the edge of his own plaid and gestured for William to hold out his hand.

“Aye.”

“I’m sorry.” Ronan wrapped
William’s swelling hand with the strip of wool.

“Sorry, changes nothing.”

“Triona will know what to do.” Ronan tied it off. “Feel better now that you’ve abused my wall?”

“Nay.” William flexed
his hand, wincing. “I should get Alice.” Ronan stopped him before he could leave.

“I
will go. Stay here, just not in
there
.” He pointed at the door.

After Ronan left,
              William stood with his palms spread on the wood of his door and his head down. “Dinna let her die. Please, God, dinna let her die. Not her.”

The door opened and Triona
looked up, her face wane.

“Let me in,
” he breathed.

She shook her head
, blocking his path. “Listen to me. I need you to fetch the midwife.”

“’Tis
bad, then.”

“
I do not want to discuss this with you. You need to get the midwife.”

Rhiannon
whimpered, and Triona planted her palm on his chest, pushing. “Go!”

He took
Triona by the upper arms and lifted the wee sprite up off the ground.

“
Listen to me, please,” she said.

He ignored her
, setting her down inside the corridor and turning back into his chamber.

Candles were lit
now. He saw Rhiannon on her back, her hair tossed in wild red swirls around her head. Her fingers were bunched in the bottom sheet. Triona had torn the top sheet into strips and several were already discarded on the floor, soaked through with blood.

Triona kept her voice down.
“I canna stop the bleeding.  She needs the midwife.”

“Did she tell you what she did?”

“I can guess. Go and get Mora, please.”

* * *

William banged on the door of the midwife’s squat, stone cottage so hard that mortar fell away from the wall.

“Aye, I am coming.”
Mora pulled it open. The age lines on her forehead deepened as she assessed him. “William? Is aught amiss with Triona?”

“Nay, something is amiss with my
wife.”

“Your wife?” Mora’s brown eyes brightened in surprise.

“She
’s miscarrying. There is too much blood.”

“Aye.” Mora gathered her riot of gray curls into a knot at the back of her head, then pushed supplies into a leather sack.

“Take my horse,” he
said.

“You didna tell me you were wed
, lad.”

“We only just arrived.”

“I should have seen her as soon . . .”

He silenced her with a look. Mora’s mouth worked, but she didn’t voice the rest of her opinions. William gave her a boost onto Jeremiah, then
secured her bag to the saddle.

He
slapped his stallion on the rump, sending them on their way. 

If anyone could help Rhiannon
, it would be Mora.

Mora’s cottage door was swinging wide open.
William latched it. Then he ran back to the hall as hard as he could, his lungs burning from it.

* * *                                               

Morning sun shot through arched windows as William sat on the floor, his back against the wall in the corridor outside his chamber. Ronan was next to him. He had the impression that Ronan had remained all night just to make sure he didn’t hurt himself again.

The usual morning bustle was absent
, the maids having been asked not to be in the laird’s wing.