“Beautiful angel, how could I be sorry?” He kissed her softly and with devotion. “He is made o’ the love I feel for ye.”
“And that I feel for ye.”
“To regret that would be—well, an abomination.”
“Aye.” She rested her cheek back on his chest. Contentment and trepidation warred inside her. “There will be ramifications. Once this is known, once it can no longer be hidden, there will be anger. Folk will no’ like knowing a member o’ Iain MacBeith’s house has lain wi’ a MacLeod.”
“The people here ken already that Moira has done just that.”
“But she does no’ carry Farlan’s bairn. Our child, Leith, will be heir to MacBeith and—at least for the time being—to MacLeod.”
Leith swore softly. “So he will.”
“Wha’s to be done?”
“We ha’ some time yet. ’Twill be autumn before anyone can tell, unless ye share it wi’ them.”
“I fear this will upend life here at MacBeith. Already, the council teeters on the edge o’ casting Moira out for her love o’ Farlan. In their view, this will be worse. Far worse.”
“Aye. And I may no’ be here to support ye in it. If they insist on sending me awa’—Lass.” He wove his fingers into her hair. “I do no’ think I will be able to do as Farlan has, and return to ye. Rory will kill me first.”
“Och.” Tears stung Rhian’s eyes. “Would he, so? But ye be his cousin. His heir.”
“Aye, and his friend. But he was deeply hurt by Farlan’s abandonment. He will see me dead before he lets me treat him the same.”
“Then—then all I can do is try to keep ye here. Here wi’ me.”
“Can it be done?”
“I do no’ ken. Mayhap, if I lie.” Aye, she had always been a truthful woman. But now—now all such considerations had flown. “If I tell them ye are unable to travel… Ye lie under my care, d’ye no’?”
“I lie under your care, beautiful angel.”
“If I say your wound still refuses to heal, that ye may die if ye mak’ the journey back to MacLeod—”
“Yet,” he said carefully, “ye ken as I do, my stubborn wound heals at last.”
“Aye. No one else knows it, though.”
“And if Saerla receives knowledge that Rory has worsened and died after all? If your council decides I am better off dead?”
Rhian tightened her arms around him. “I will throw mysel’ in front o’ their dirks, if I ha’ to.”
“And risk our child?”
“They will no’ harm me, surely?”
“By all that is holy, Rhian.” He puffed out a breath. “If ye suppose I would take a chance ever on your safety or that o’ our bairn… I would die ten times over to spare ye.”
She wanted to weep. Lying there with him in the dark, she did. Because what lay between them was so beautiful, so true. And because she could not see a way forward, no matter how she tried.
“There is onlynowfor us,” she whispered, her lips but a breath from his.
He kissed her softly. “Aye, Rhian, but the future lies beneath your heart.”
So it did. And she needed to nurture and grow that tiny fire, at all cost.
*
