“You are right.”
“Mayhap Rory MacLeod will find that in the end, ’tis MacBeith that may be holding the whole o’ this glen.”
Chapter Forty-Three
Ason. Hewas going to have a son. Leith contemplated the prospect again and again, and each time, his wonder grew.
In the past, given his dealings with women, he’d done his best to avoid that particular outcome. For the most part he’d held back from giving his partners his seed, whether they’d been maids or widowed matrons. He had wanted no permanent ties to them.
With Rhian, the ties had formed first and were unbreakable. He could as soon have kept from breathing as kept from giving her all of him.
How she might know already that they had created a child together, he could not say. There was some magic in it. He did not doubt her.
He tried to imagine such a child. Half of him, and half Rhian. Half MacLeod and half MacBeith, as she said. A doomed child, scorned by all? Or one full of promise?
He paced the narrow floor of the chamber and tried to lay aside his wonder in order to make plans. So much felt beyond his control right now, pent up as he was in this room, unable to make his own choices. Instead of choosing to leave here, he might be sent. Or slain out of hand.
He did not want his son to grow up without him. Before this, let it be admitted, he’d thought mostly of himself. Yes, his loyalty to Rory and his clan had been absolute. Unthinking. And he’d taken pride in his abilities as a warrior. The rest had been laughter and levity, taking pleasure where he could.
The prospect of becoming a father changed all that. Becoming the father ofRhian’schild changed it doubly so. It seemed almost a holy prospect. She gave him a beautiful gift, this woman he adored. How might he be worthy of it?
He had grand examples before him. His own da, a bluff and hearty man from whom Leith had no doubt inherited his own strength, had always taken time to teach and train him. He’d been gentle, unexpectedly so, with his children, even as he cherished Leith’s mother. He’d been especially gentle with his daughters. They’d all wept, including Da, when Ainsley died along with her and Farlan’s wee son.
And then there was the old chief, Camraith, who had been father to all the clan. Wise, patient, slow to anger, and quick to choose for the benefit of all, no one could ask for a better man to follow. He’d taken Farlan in and been a true father to him after Farlan’s own da was killed.
If Leith could choose, he wanted to become a father like that to his lad. Could he do that from a distance?
How best might he provide for his son and for Rhian? No matter how he paced and pondered, he did not know.
If he went home, if he tore himself away from Rhian, which would feel like yanking out his heart by the roots, could he influence Rory? Try to persuade him from this course he’d chosen to pursue, that had so far brought nothing but defeats, to some sort of truce?
He knew his cousin, and he did not think so. God himself could not sway Rory once his mind was made up.
Rory might still succumb to his wound, though Saerla insisted he had not yet. Then Leith would become chief, and then his son after him, if he could persuade Clan MacLeod to accept the boy. A peace could be forged between him and Farlan, acting through Moira.
Almost as if it weremeant.
For all that, and given all Rory’s faults, he could not bring himself to hope for his cousin’s death. Aye, Rory might be stubborn. He might be hotheaded and Camraith’s opposite in almost every way. But he was also Leith’s lifelong friend and companion.
He loved the man.
Och, and he would lose his mind trying to figure a way out of this.
Perhaps there was no way. Possibly Alasdair and the council would win their argument with MacBeith’s daughters and he’d be slain.
In such case, he would never see his son grow up. He would not even see him born. And how would such a lad be treated, growing up here at MacBeith without him? Leith hated to think.
He sank onto the edge of the bed, weary from his thoughts, and weighted by hopelessness.
The door rattled, and Rhian called softly, “Let me in.”
He did so as swiftly as he could lift the bar. She came into the chamber, and everything changed.
With Rhian here—aye, even though she too looked distressed—his hopelessness lifted. Strength took its place, and healing once more flooded through him. With her here, he had all he needed.
She replaced the bar on the door and faced him, filled with anguish and uncertainty. “I canna stay.”
Leith’s heart, which had just buoyed, sank like a stone.
