Seducing the Highlander (39 page)

Meriel giggled. “Lyndee
can
be a little demanding sometimes.”

“
All
the time,” Craig corrected. “I’m not sure how Crevan deals with it.”

“Simple. He’s just like her.”

It was Craig’s turn to chuckle. “You are right. But even if you were not, I would want only you to mother my child. There are things you will give our son or daughter that no other person could. All the qualities I love about you. Your gift of beauty and your quiet—well,
usually
quiet—resolve, your untold stubbornness; all of these I cannot wait to see grow in abundance in our child.”

Meriel sighed deeply, finally content, at least for the moment. Craig let go the breath he had been holding. Everything he said was true. He wanted their child. He thought Meriel would be an incredible mother and would bestow all her wonderful gifts on their babe as it grew into an adult. But that did not allay his fears.

Meriel had just fallen asleep when a loud banging on their door woke her. “What . . . who is that?” she asked.

Craig lifted her and put her back in the chair to go find out. Refusing to wait, Meriel rose and wrapped the blanket around her and followed him. He grimaced and was about to tell her to stay back, away from the cold, especially as she was in her chemise, but there was a stubborn glint in her eye and the last thing he wanted was a debate about who was going to answer the knock.

Yanking the heavy wooden door open, he recognized one of the castle guards. “I’ve brought news,” the guard said gravely. “Your sister, my lady, has fallen ill. And your brother, Commander, has asked for you to come at once.”

Craig’s expression went blank and he nodded. He closed the door and leaned against it. His greatest fear wrenched his insides. Meriel had already rushed back to their room to put on a clean gown. A minute later, he felt a shirt being tossed over his shoulder. Mechanically, he put it on and then went to make sure Meriel would be warm enough for the short journey.

 

 

They arrived at the castle and went straight to the keep but had only started ascending the first few steps when they met Rae, who was coming down. His face was grave and unshed tears brimmed in his eyes.

“The baby did not survive,” he said simply.

Craig had served either for Rae or with him for years. They had seen atrocities of battle. Witnessed close friends die in painful, god-awful ways. Horrors that should never be spoken of, they had experienced together. But never had Craig seen Rae look so despondent. Craig wanted to scream at the injustice, knowing his brother felt even worse. And deep down, the fear he felt for Meriel had just grown exponentially.

“Crevan, upstairs?” Craig choked.

“Aye,” Rae answered, but when Meriel went to follow her husband, he touched her arm and shook his head. “It’s best if Raelynd doesn’t see you right now. Wait until she asks for you.”

Meriel stood immobile as she digested all that she had been told. Her sister, so happy, so thrilled at the knowledge that she was soon to become a mother, had just lost her baby. It was unfair, wrong, and cruel. And deep down, Meriel knew she was to blame. Her legs went weak, and the world went dark.

Craig caught her before she fell. “I need to get Meriel home,” he said brokenly. “Tell my brother that I will return once I know that she is all right.”

Craig pivoted and felt all his emotions start to boil within him. Never had he felt more helpless. The people he loved most in this world were hurting, and he knew this time there was no solution that could make things better.

Soon he might be joining them in their despair.

The faint light from the dying fire in the hearth revealed Meriel’s dispirited, shuttered expression, igniting an emotion other than desire to stir in Craig. Fear. They had received the shocking news of Raelynd’s and Crevan’s loss almost two weeks ago. Meriel refused to go to the castle, saw no one except him, and barely responded to his attempts at conversation. He was losing her bit by bit, and he had no idea what to do.

After Raelynd lost her baby, Meriel had been consumed with cleaning their cottage. Her need to work, to keep busy, he understood, but then it went beyond removing the clutter. Every corner had been cleaned. Every item was put away; and if there was not room for it, it was disposed of. For two days, Craig had tried everything he could think of to get her to slow down. He cajoled, commanded, even pleaded, but all attempts to sway her from the task seemed to create only more anxiety within her. Eventually he stopped trying to interfere and returned home several times a day to force her to rest and take some nourishment.

On the fourth day, he had come home to check on her and found her sitting on the vacant floor near the hearth, staring at her hands. The place was so organized it felt empty. Nothing was in view. Not one thing was on the floor or in a pile. Nothing was out of place. Craig felt like he had entered Raelynd’s home, not his, and it was then that he realized what Meriel had been doing. Maybe not intentionally, but being barred from her sister’s bedside, it was the only way Meriel had to show her sorrow.

Meriel looked up at him. Her large green and gold-flecked eyes were bordered with tears. “There is nothing more I can do.”

Her voice had sounded so small and weak, he was not positive that she had even spoken. He knelt down and took her fingers into his and kissed them. He then gathered her in his arms and placed her in one of their chairs. And with few exceptions, that had been where she remained for the next week.

Craig glanced at the dying fire. “Are you cold?”

Meriel looked as empty as the room she sat in and gave him a noncommittal shrug of the shoulders. He tossed another two logs on the fire and the warmth from the hearth began to creep into the chilly room. “I have some time,” he lied. “We could go to the castle.”

Meriel gave a slight shake of her head.

“You need to see Raelynd.”

Meriel’s gaze finally locked onto his. “But she does not need to see me.”

Craig sighed, wishing Rae had not performed a vanishing act right after telling them the news about Raelynd and her baby. Since then, Crevan had handled all that he could at the castle, but he refused to leave his wife’s side for very long. With Rae gone and Crevan constrained, the majority of the clan responsibilities had fallen to Craig. At first he embraced the extra work, as he needed something to focus on besides his fear for his wife and the sorrow of his brother and sister-in-law. But Meriel’s grief had become personal. For some reason he could not fathom, she believed herself to be partly responsible for the tragic loss of her sister’s baby. And he was not sure anything short of seeing Raelynd, speaking with her, and hearing from
her
, would convince Meriel otherwise.

Craig went to the table, grabbed a leather pouch he typically used for carrying water, and began pouring its contents into a bowl. He laughed, but no joy was in the sound. “I thought you might like some soup. I asked the girl in the kitchen to find a way for me to carry it back here, and this is what she came up with.”

Meriel curled up into a tighter ball and pulled the blanket Craig had laid on her that morning even tighter around her. “I don’t want any.”

Craig’s face clouded with uneasiness. She had been eating so little that her face had become gaunt. Initially he had been angered, thinking that she might have been intentionally trying to starve their baby, out of guilt, and hinted as much. Instantly her lifeless demeanor had vanished as Meriel had become nearly violent with anger. “I love my baby!” she screamed so loud her voice cracked. And in the next several minutes, she had made it clear that for him to suggest anything contrary to that was heartless and untrue.

But his anger had quickly morphed into concern, then alarm, and now he was truly frightened. “Meriel, please eat. If not for you, then for our baby.”

“I will, just later.”

A glazed look of despair spread over his face and he squatted down in front of her. “Look at me, Meriel. You do not eat. Just as you do not sleep. You do not talk to me. You only sit. Please tell me what to do.”

Meriel stretched out her thin hand and caressed his cheek. “I am fine. The baby is fine. I eat when I am hungry and I do sleep when I am tired. I sit because I have nothing else to do.”

“What about the castle and all the sewing stuff that is so important?”

Meriel reclaimed her hand and pulled it back within her huddled form. “If the weavers have questions, they know where I am.”

Craig sighed and leaned his forehead against her arm. “What happened is not your fault. It’s awful. It’s horrible, and it is in every way unfair, even more so because you were both with child at the same time. But that is
my
child in your womb. I want him to be strong and healthy. I need him to know his aunt, and her lunacy for order, but he will be raised by his mother. I need her back. Return to me, Meriel. Please.”

Hot tears began to stream down Meriel’s face. “I don’t know how. I do not think I can. I so need Raelynd’s help, but how can I ask for it now? She hates me, and I have given her the ultimate reason why she should.” Meriel stifled a sob. “I promise that I will get better. I only need some more time.”

Craig smoothed the hair from her face. Time. This was not the first she had asked for it. But he was more convinced than ever that time was not the solution. She and Raelynd must find a way to be close once again.

 

 

Craig left the keep after learning from the housemaid that Raelynd was asleep and that she had no idea where Crevan had gone. Exiting into the bailey, he looked up and studied the dark form pacing atop the closer of the castle’s two large drum towers. Recognizing the shadow as belonging to his brother, Craig headed to the tower stairwell and began to climb.

Crevan glanced at the emerging figure. When he recognized Craig, he returned his focus to the few stars visible in the partially cloudy night sky.

“Stargazing,” Craig said simply, knowing that was what his brother did when he needed to think.

“ Aye.”

“Been here awhile?”

“Not long enough to form any answers.”

Craig inhaled. The answer was short but well understood. While he had been worried about Meriel, his brother had been just as concerned about his wife. “Has Rae returned yet?”

“ No.”

Craig leaned back against one of the battlements and crossed his arms. “Where did he go anyway? And why?”

Crevan looked at his brother. “W-where? I have no idea, nor do I know w-when he w-w-will return. But I do know he left to grieve. He mentioned to me once, quite some time ago, that he pre-f-ferred to mourn in solitude.”

“I can’t imagine the memories this has raised.”

Crevan returned his eyes to the heavens. “I hope you never w-will,” he murmured softly, his voice filled with sadness and loss. “Did you know right here, on top of this tower is w-where Raelynd and I f-first met? She didn’t know who I w-was. But I knew her. Even at sixteen, she w-was so f-feisty. So f-full of life.” He looked back at Craig. “I’m scared, brother. More than I ever have been, because I do not know what to do.”

Craig nodded. “That I do understand.”

Crevan pursed his lips and then yanked up the door to the stairwell. “Let’s talk,” he said glumly and began to descend.

They entered the Great Hall and saw a servant laying down fresh rushes in the empty spaces where the old ones had been crushed. Seeing Crevan’s gesture of dismissal, he left, leaving them alone. Crevan went behind the screens and returned carrying two mugs and a pitcher of ale. The men made their way to the other end of the Hall, where the main hearth was always kept burning during the winter months. Crevan placed the items on the table next to the chairs closest to the fire. Spying a log one of the servants had brought in but not yet added to the fire, he tossed it in and then joined Craig, pouring them both a drink.

“You tell me your troubles. I’ll tell you mine,” Crevan said before swallowing the mug’s entire contents in one gulp.

It was an old expression they had shared since they were young boys. Both of them had been prone to mischief, though never of the same kind, and oftentimes they had found themselves in trouble concurrently. The bond forged from those moments, sharing and sympathizing with each other’s woes, was what enabled them to seek out and trust each other’s counsel. And tonight, more than ever, Craig needed his brother’s advice.

“I am afraid for Meriel. She eats just enough to remain alive. She barely engages in conversation. And after sitting all day in a chair, she cannot sleep at night. I’m losing her, Crevan. She is getting weaker and I am terrified what will happen if something happens to our child.... And based on her mother’s history and what happened to Raelynd, I am terrified that something might. When that happens, Meriel will truly lose the will to live. I cannot lose her. But I already know that I am.”

Crevan heard his brother choke back a sob. He had cried privately so many times this past week, he did not think he had tears left to shed. But he understood his brother’s fear. “Raelynd no longer will leave our bedchamber. A few days ago, she finally rose and ventured out of the room, telling no one she was doing so. But she had not gone far before she overheard three or four of the servants talking about what had happened. After hearing their comments, she locked herself back in our room and opened the door for me only when I promised I would not force her to leave.”

This captured Craig’s attention. “W-what did they say?” he asked, his voice ominous with a promise of retribution.

Crevan poured himself another drink. “Remarks like God needed another angel. That everything w-would be just f-fine again soon. At least she could try again. It was only her f-f-first loss. Another baby w-would make her f-forget this one.”

Craig relaxed, for the remarks his brother just listed sounded rather well-meaning and far from horrible. Some of them he thought should have been a little comforting.

Crevan lifted his mug and swallowed some of the contents. “I cannot remember all the ones Raelynd rattled off, but those are the ones that made even me angry. Deep down, Raelynd and I both know that no one was trying to be hurtful, but w-w-when she told me w-what they said, I w-wanted to gather everyone together and yell at them until they understood—God does
not
need another angel. He has plenty. And if we ever do try again, another child would
never
replace the one w-we lost.”

Craig downed the rest of his ale. He had not thought of those comments in that way. Seeing it through his brother’s eyes, he realized such remarks did more to pacify people like himself, who could see his brother was hurting immensely and felt helpless. The words did not actually provide comfort, despite the good intentions of those who spoke them.

Crevan leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees as he spun the mug between his hands. “What those women said was bad enough, but it is the midwife that I had better never see again.”

“What happened?” Craig asked, knowing that what happened was really irrelevant when it created that much animosity in Crevan. The woman was going nowhere near Meriel. If Craig had to beg, bribe, even kidnap her, the McTiernay midwife, Hagatha, was going to be there at the birth of his child. Even if the old, crusty woman had to live with them for a month.

“She did nothing
wrong
exactly, but . . . well . . . I don’t know. Maybe she has seen death too many times to care anymore. Raelynd had just lost our baby and the midwife was the first person to know. What my wife needed most was a sympathetic face. Someone to say she was sorry and that she was there for her. That it was not her fault.
Anything
. But she merely stood up, washed her hands, and told her there was nothing she could do. That was it. Told me to let her rest and then left.”

Craig was at a loss for words. He was in many ways afraid to say anything, lest his good intentions be misinterpreted. But he had to agree that the midwife should have been more sensitive. Perhaps Crevan was right, and after seeing loss too many times she could not be. But if that was true, should she be a midwife to expectant mothers? Did he want her around Meriel in case things went horribly wrong for them as well? Craig knew the answer to that. Absolutely not.

“God, Craig, what am I going to do?”

Craig sat transfixed. He had no idea to what his brother was referring, but he knew that it did not matter. He had no answers.

Crevan got up and began to pace. “Raelynd knows our baby is gone, but she swears she can feel it kick.”

“I did not realize she ever could.”

Crevan took a deep breath. “I don’t think she could. She just imagined it so much and was so eager for us to have this child. How do I tell her she doesn’t feel something she insists she does?”

Craig tilted his head and twitched his mouth in understanding. “I don’t think you should. As you said, Raelynd knows the truth. If she needs to feel the baby for a while longer, then let her. You and I have known men who have lost a limb in battle and for years can still feel it itching.”

Crevan returned to his chair, slumping down so he could rest his head on its high back. “I think I have monopolized the conversation long enough. You came for a reason.”

“One that I now know you cannot help me with, just as I cannot solve yours. Meriel blames herself for your and Raelynd’s loss, and I cannot convince her otherwise. I think the only one who can is her sister, but I can see now that getting them together is not possible.”