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No matter what, she wouldneverregret bringing this blessed child into the world.
“Now, lass, what are you up to over here in the corner?”
She glanced up, mustering a smile for Royal. His voice was gruff and his brogue strong—a sure signal his emotions were running high.
“Please tell me you’ve finally come up with a name for my daughter. She cannot leave here without one.” She’d left that decision up to him, but he’d been annoying reluctantly to make a choice.
He’d also been avoiding her the last few days, only coming to see her to discuss specific details of their plan. While he was always polite and kind, it was obvious he wanted to spend as little time in her company as possible. Even though she understood the reasons why, his subtle rejection stung like a swarm of bees.
Ainsley understood that he was struggling with a complex stew of emotions—including sorrow and anger—so she couldn’t blame him for staying away. After all, she was all but gutted by what she was feeling. There was also a great deal to be done before they left, and the responsibility for all that fell on him.
Royal placed a hand on the baby’s head. His touch was so gentle that it made Ainsley’s throat go tight. Whenever he’d come to see her, he’d made a point of holding the baby, pacing slowly back and forth with her in his arms as he and Ainsley thrashed out tricky logistics.
“I want the lass to get used to me, and to know I’ll always be there for her,” he’d explained.
He’d always be there for the baby, but not her. After he’d left the room, Ainsley had buried her face in a pillow and bawled like a child.
Royal smiled. “Ah, yes, the name. I think I’ve finally got it.”
“Do you hear that, my girl?” she said, gazing down at her daughter. “You’re finally going to get a name.”
“I think we should call her Tira,” he said.
She glanced up, startled. “Isn’t that your mother’s name?”
“Aye. It’s a good one, don’t you think?”
“That’s . . . that’s very special,” she stammered. “Are you sure?”
“She’s a special lass, so she needs a special name. My mother would have loved her, just likehermamma loves her.”
Ainsley could practically hear the cracks sundering her heart. “Royal, I don’t know what to say,” she whispered.
He briefly cupped her cheek, his palm rough and warm on her skin. “I know, lass. It’s a hard—”
“Sir, I’m right sorry, but I need a word,” interrupted one of the grooms, coming up to them.
Royal cast an annoyed glance over his shoulder. “I’ll be there in a moment.”
“Sorry,” he said to Ainsley.
“It’s fine. I’ll just wait here until you’re ready.”
He stepped back and ran an assessing gaze over her figure. “Are you sure you should be standing here on the stone floor? Shouldn’t you still be resting?”
“I’m fine, and if I have to stay in bed another moment, I’ll shoot myself.”
Besides, once Royal and the baby left, she would probably crawl into bed and spend the next three weeks crying her eyes out.
“Well, we can’t have that,” he said with a quick flash of a smile. “It won’t be much longer, but make sure you and Tira stay out of the draft.”
The lump in her throat became a boulder at the sound of her daughter’s name. It was a beautiful name. Hismother’sname.
“You may not have noticed, but there’s a roaring fire less than ten feet away from me,” she said tartly, trying to cover up her distress. “I’m practically expiring from the heat.”
Royal gestured to Hector, who lurked behind an old suit of armor in the corner, doing his best to avoid any work, as usual. “Bring her ladyship a chair,” he ordered before striding off to speak with his groom.
Sighing dramatically, Hector lugged over one of the ladder-back chairs that flanked the front door. Ainsley thanked him and sank down, grateful to be off her feet. She might be sick of lying abed, but her back ached and her legs still felt a bit wobbly. Royal would notice that, of course, and worry even more that she was overexerting herself.
