Page 60 of Hold Fast

She hesitated. What had she been thinking? Coming to the laird’s bedchamber in the middle of the night in nothing but her shift?To talk? As if it couldn’t wait until morning. If she’d been worried about baseless gossip, she’d give them something to talk about in truth if she wasn’t careful.

And yet she could not make herself leave.

“Una?” Ewan asked, peering around the doorframe and into the corridor. “Is aught amiss?”

“I— I wanted to speak with you.”

Ewan looked at her, an unreadable expression on his face. But eventually, he opened the door wider and stepped aside. Wordlessly, she slipped past him and into the dark chamber.

CHAPTER23

Ewan had neglected to feed his fire, and as a result, the chamber was cold and dark, his figure barely visible. She shivered, grateful for the wool plaid wrapped around her shoulders. In a sliver of moonlight that came through the window, she saw him move toward the hearth.

“I’ll stoke the fire,” he said.

“Nay,” she blurted in response. “That is, I dinnae want to inconvenience you.”

She heard the mattress creak as he sat on the edge of the bed. “Will you sit?”

Una debated. She could sit. But she didn’t want to sit next to him. Especially not on a bed. He was too warm, too wonderful. Too tempting.

“I willnae touch you,” Ewan said softly. “You have my word.”

Una sighed and used that small moonbeam to creep to the bed, sitting on the mattress near him. She pulled her legs up and sat with them crossed and tucked under her nightgown, the plaid pulled tightly around her.

“Are you cold, Una?”

She didn’t have a chance to answer. The dark shadow of him loomed closer, followed by the heavy weight of a blanket dropped around her shoulders. She gripped the edges in her chilled fingers and pulled it close.

Neither of them spoke, the silence almost its own entity in the darkness. But it wasn’t a companionable silence, not like when they’d been silent together before. This silence was thick with words unspoken.

“I am sorry, Una,” Ewan said, his voice hoarse.

Una wished she had let him build that fire, if only so that she could see his face.

“I am sorry too.”

In the scant moonlight, she could see him leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees, head in his hands.

“I want to understand, Una. But perhaps you need to understand me as well.”

He took a deep breath.

“My mother died when I was fifteen. She had such a hard time with Rabbie that the midwives told her that if she had another babe, it would kill her.”

“The twins,” Una whispered, her hands clutching the covers.

“Aye. Six years later, she found herself with child again. No matter how many times my father begged her to purge her womb, she refused. She told him that all would be well, that she held fast to her faith so he should hold fast to her.”

She heard Ewan swallow heavily before taking a long breath in. She wondered if Ewan’s mother had had a good midwife, if someone had taught her about fennel. She imagined not.

“My father grew more and more despondent by the day, terrified of losing her. And then her time came. He sent for the best midwives, the best healers from every ally. Connor was born without issue, but Cat....”

Una reached out and rested a hand on his shoulder.

“The midwives were able to deliver Cat, but the birth injured her shoulder permanently. And my mother…” he trailed off.

“She lost too much blood.”