Page 236 of Wicked Highland Heroes

“Aye,” the others agreed, heads nodding in vigorous agreement.

Tears sprang to Rhoslyn’s eyes. The women were letting her know they accepted the baby as St. Claire’s without question. They began hugging her and laughing and she feared she wouldn’t be able to hold back the tears.

“Aye,” she managed in a level voice. “I wanted to be certain. As ye can see, St. Claire is going to be too protective.”

“Of course,” Tira said. He wants ye and the babe to be safe.”

Rhoslyn nodded. “Aye. Now I am a bit tired. Will you walk with me, St. Claire?”

“Go on,” Edina said. “Take a nap.” She looked at St. Claire. “Ye might want to put your wife to bed, laird.” She winked.

St. Claire bowed. “Excellent advice.” He turned to Rhoslyn and held out his arm. “My lady.”

She cast him a dark look, accepted his arm, and started away. Opposite the stables, out of earshot of the woman, Rhoslyn said, “How did ye know?”

“As the women said, a husband knows.”

Rhoslyn snorted.

“No one told me,” he said. “I feel certain you told no one.”

No, she hadn’t. She still didn’t half believe it. All those years with Alec she had been so sure it was her fault she didn’t conceive. To conceive so quickly now had to mean it was Alec and not her who had been at fault. How many times had she knelt in the chapel, begging one saint after another for a child? Now, she had gotten pregnant within the first month of marriage. Mayhap, the first time.

They started around the stables and Rhoslyn grabbed St. Claire’s arm and pulled him around the back of the building. “Why did ye tell the women I am with child?”

“Because it is better they believe we are happy about the babe.”

She stiffened. “Then ye are no’ happy.”

He frowned. “What makes you say that?”

“You say it is better they believe we are happy. That implies ye are hesitant.”

“I am very happy. It is you who have misgivings.”

“Aye, I have misgivings. It is easy for you to say you will love the child no matter what. But when the babe doesna’ look or act like ye, anger and resentment will make you think differently.”

“Rhoslyn, the child is mine.”

“Ye hope it is yours,” she shot back.

He grasped her shoulders. “The child is mine.”

“Your brother—”

“My brother will never come near my children. My children. Do you understand?”

She searched his face. How she wanted to believe him.

He pulled her against his chest. At first she resisted, but he held her tight and rested his chin on her head.

“Lady Andreana is grown,” he said. “She will soon marry and leave our house. Do you not want children?”

She did, but what if the child wasn’t his? Worse, what if the child ended up buried beside Dougal?

St. Claire drew back, then pulled her against his side and began walking. “We should send word to your grandfather.”

“Nay,” she said too quickly, then amended, “Do no’ tell him in a missive. Invite him to come, then we will tell him in person. But let us wait at least a month.”