He cradled her face in his palm and met her eyes with a look that made her heart soften like heated wax.
“I think ye could fall in love with him…if ye let yerself.” Her mother’s words echoed in her mind.
And mayhap, she had.
In the last three weeks, Ewan had given her all of him. He’d found reasons to need to see her in the middle of the day with a kiss and a smile. He’d left flowers by her plate at meals and had fine fabrics ordered for new kirtles. There had even been a gift of a bejeweled dagger, ornate enough for a lady to wear on her belt with a blade sharp enough for a warrior.
More than all those physical goods, though, were the intimate moments between them. Some nights, he took his time as he worshiped her body; other times he coupled with her hard and fast in a way that left them both breathless. Regardless of how they came together, he always cradled her in his arms afterward, which was where she stayed through the night, in the protective embrace of his arms.
He looked at her often as he did now as if he wished to convey declarations of his heart. Mayhap even of love. It would be so much easier if he said it to her so that she might be free to say it aloud in turn, to test the delicacy of such words against the gradual opening of her heart.
“I care for ye.” He searched her eyes. “So verra much.”
Her pulse hitched. “And I care for ye, husband.” She opened her mouth, wanting to say more even as she feared doing so.
Her stomach clenched, and a wave of nausea washed over her.
“Off with ye or neither of us will ever see to our tasks,” Faye said with a forced laugh.
He hesitated, his focus on her sharpening.
“Good morrow, sir.” Monroe entered the room and nodded respectfully to Ewan first, then to Faye. “Good morrow, my lady. I trust this morn finds ye both well.”
“Aye, thank ye,” Faye lied. She certainly did not feel well. Not of late. She pulled Ewan’s arm, tugging him toward Monroe. “Off with ye, or we’ll be supping on eel.”
He grimaced and hastened his steps toward Monroe.
“That’s what I thought.” She chuckled at her husband’s antics. There was a silliness to him that she found endearing. How so powerful and masculine a male could still behave in such a way made her laugh, even when she felt as poorly as she did.
He tossed a final charming grin in her direction and departed with Monroe. No sooner had he left than a fresh roll of nausea caught her. Sweat prickled on her brow. She was going to be ill. Her hands moved blindly, finding the stone wall to brace herself against as she fought to keep the contents of her stomach in place.
“Faye?” Footsteps rushed toward her. “Is something amiss?”
The surprise of Moiré’s sudden appearance provided Faye with the thread of control she needed to wrangle in her need to purge. She could hardly allow herself to be ill in front of someone else.
Faye pressed her face to the stone and reveled in the coolness that greeted her. “Forgive me. I need a moment.” She sighed.
Moiré put a hand to Faye’s brow. “Ye dinna feel warm. Are ye well?”
“’Tis been like this for several mornings.” Faye swallowed thickly, desperate to be free of the unpleasant clench to her stomach.
“Have ye been tired as well?” Moiré asked.
Faye opened her eyes and regarded Ewan’s cousin with suspicion. “Aye.”
“Ye do know where my questions are leading, aye?” Moiré tilted her head. “Have ye had yer courses?”
Faye’s mouth fell open. Was it true?
Quickly, she thought back to her courses and realized she hadn’t had them since a sennight into her miserable journey to Balnagown Castle. Now with the exhaustion and the illness…how had she not realized?
Moiré blinked, as though with shock. “Ye’re with child.” Her words were flat, absent the joy and wonder dawning over Faye.
“A child…” Faye pushed away from the wall and brought a hand slowly to her stomach. A babe grew within. Her babe. With Ewan.
Tears welled in her eyes.
Their child.
“I have to tell Ewan.” Faye put her palms to her cheeks to cool their blazing heat.
Moiré shook her head. “No’ yet.”
Faye drew back and frowned at Ewan’s cousin, who had been acting strange since she pieced together why Faye had been ill.
“Why not tell him?” Faye asked.
Moiré sighed sadly. “’Tis no’ a story I want to tell. But I dinna want Ewan hurt again.” Her eyes dulled with sorrow. “Lara thought she was with child once. She told Ewan as soon as she suspected, but it was simply that she missed her courses and was ill. Realizing she wasn’t in a delicate way devastated them both, and their marriage fell apart.”
Faye sagged back against the stone wall. Such news must have been painful for Ewan. Worse still, that their union had suffered in the wake of such loss. She cupped her hands protectively over her womb, certain a child grew within her.
And yet if she were wrong…
Doubt crowded in the fogginess of her tired mind.
“Mayhap ’tis best to tell him when ye have missed yer courses a second time?” Moiré suggested.
Faye hesitated. Surely Ewan’s affections couldn’t be so fickle as to falter if she weren’t with child. Especially when the draw between them was so strong. And when he had never loved Lara.
But could she put him through such hurt again?
She had never been with child, nor did she know anyone who had been. No one save her mother, and Mum was too far away to seek counsel. Faye had no way to know for certain.
Slowly, she found herself nodding in agreement with Moiré. “I think ye’re right.”
Moiré clenched her hands to her chest. “The moment ye truly know, ye’ll make him the happiest man in all the world.”
Faye forced a smile to her lips. Was it
