Darcy gave Mari a cheeky grin and helped Jillian to a sitting position in her bed before leaving the bedchamber. Mari pulled a chair near Jillian and managed a smile that she did not feel. Never in her entire life had she seen her sister look so frail and weak. And, save for the bruises she’d suffered from the old marquess, Mari couldn’t really remember a time when Jillian had even been ill.
“I do not look so good, do I?” Jillian asked, her voice a mere whisper of her normal self.
“You look fine,” Mari lied and picked up Jillian’s hand. “Youwillbe fine.”
Jillian attempted a smile. “I could always tell when you were lying.”
Mari felt tears sting her eyes. “You are alive, that is what matters—and the babe too.”
“Yes, there is that,” Jillian replied and placed her hand on her extended belly. “I do not think I could have forgiven myself if the babe had died.”
“Ian told us what happened. It was not your fault you fell.”
“Brodie—Bridget’s husband—told me I should have waited for him to return and not gone after their uncle and his brother, but I had to know what they were planning.” She paused, collected her breath and managed to speak a bit louder. “You have no idea how much those two hate the English. Please be careful.”
“I will. Surely they would not dare hurt either of us?”
“Not directly. Ian would have their heads. They are conniving, though.” She paused again, gathering her strength. “I am not so sure Duncan and Broc did not intend for me to overhear them talking about the plans to attack Countess Sutherland’s escort to lure me out in the dark of night. They knew both Shane and Brodie were gone.”
Mari felt shocked. “You carry Ian’s child. The heir to the clan, if that is the right term to use.”
Jillian nodded. “Precisely. An heir that would be half English.”
“But that…that is murder.”
“Someone would have to prove that. It was their luck that I managed to stumble and fall on my own. Who knows what might have happened otherwise?”
“Why hasn’t Ian made them leave?”
“He wanted to. I told him it was wiser pretending we did not suspect anything. The blizzard was a blessing because the passes were blocked and the countess turned back to London. However, if we keep Duncan and Broc here, we can know if they make any other plans that would put Ian’s lands in jeopardy.”
“Butyoumay be in jeopardy.”
Jillian managed a genuine smile. “I take it you have not met Bridget yet?”
Mari shook her head. “Jamie directed me straight here.”
Her sister eyed her curiously for a moment but merely said, “Bridget keeps a close eye on who comes near the stairs. I am never left alone. If Ian is not here, Darcy is. She can scream bloody murder louder than anyone I know.”
Mari laughed, beginning to finally relax. “I remember. It always makes Effie cringe.”
“Did Effie come with you?”
“Of course. I could not have stopped her even if I had wanted to.”
Jillian lay back on the pillows. “Things are going to get interesting around here.”
Mari was beginning to see what Jillian meant when she descended the stairs and headed for the sound of loud conversation coming from down the hall. She entered an open door to a room that was probably as close to a parlor as a medieval Scottish castle got. Flames of blue, red and orange burned brightly in the huge hearth along one side of the room. Various animal furs were scattered on the stone floor in front of the fire and several large, comfortable-looking overstuffed chairs were in close proximity. Tapestries depicting hunting scenes lined the walls, probably to keep the damp cold of the stone out as much as for the artistry of the weavers.
Effie and Darcy stood glaring at each other, both of them with their hands on their hips while two identical-looking girls with strawberry hair sat on a horsehair sofa watching them with huge, green eyes.
“I’ll not be letting ye take over the care of me mistress,” Darcy proclaimed loudly. “I am doing just fine.”
“Yet Jillian lies ill,” Effie retorted.
“’Tis no’ my fault.”
“I did not say it was,” Effie replied, “but I know how distracted you get when there are men about—”
