“Of course,” Moiré replied. “I’m glad ye’ll know soon.”
“As am I,” Faye replied.
Despite the occasional flicker of doubt, she suspected the healer would tell her exactly what she felt in her gut: she truly was with child. And once she was certain, she would finally be able to tell Ewan.
20
Finally, the day came that Faye would go to the healer. She rode with Moiré to the small village on the outskirts of the castle. Though Faye had no confirmation on her condition yet, she continued to cradle her stomach with the flat of her palm.
Through the scrape of seconds and minutes and hours until Faye’s visit to the healer, Ewan proceeded to act even more strangely.
“Do ye know what occupies Ewan’s time this afternoon?” Faye asked.
Moiré gazed out toward the tops of the thatched houses as they approached the village. “Nay, but I think ’tis important. He seemed verra distracted this morning.”
Faye said nothing. She’d thought the same of Ewan. His mouth had been set in a hard line as it did when his mind was weighted with important matters. Energy charged through her veins like lightning, crackling and snapping until she was restless with agitation.
“’Tis this way.” Moiré indicated a hut set off from the main village.
A plume of dark smoke rose from the roof’s center and billowed up into the clear blue sky. Nervous excitement jittered in the pit of Faye’s stomach as they dismounted before the small hut. She would finally know.
A woman not much older than Faye answered the door. Her long brown hair was bound back in a thick rope of a braid, which she swung over her shoulder, and bade them enter.
The air inside was warm and scented with the sweetness of herbs whose names Faye could not recall. Bundles of dried stems and leaves hung from the rafters, and a cheerful fire blazed at the hut’s center in a small pit lined with stones.
The woman offered a shy curtsey to Faye. “I’m so pleased to meet ye, Lady Sutherland. I’m Sorcha, the healer. Ye dinna have to come here. I could have gone to ye.”
Faye waved her hand. “I’ve never been one for putting on airs.”
Sorcha’s face radiated with a healthy glow. “I’ve heard ye were a bonny woman but had no idea.” She flushed. “I can see why ye’ve stolen our chieftain’s heart.”
It was Faye’s turn to blush. “I don’t know that I’ve stolen his heart…”
“As much as he talks about ye when he’s with the villagers, I assure ye, ye have.” Sorcha gave her a wide grin.
It was uncommon for Faye to like anyone from the first meeting. But Sorcha had a genuine, open demeanor that reminded her so thoroughly of Clara’s goodness that Faye immediately was drawn to the healer.
“If ye dinna mind…?” Sorcha looked to Moiré then glanced toward the door.
Moiré frowned. “I’d like to stay here for Faye.”
Faye gave a grateful look to her cousin-by-marriage. “’Tis fine, Moiré. I’ll be but a moment.”
Moiré’s lips turned downward in an uncommon show of churlishness, but she did not protest again as she left the small hut.
“Ye think ye’re with child, do ye?” Sorcha asked, her blue eyes twinkling.
Faye nodded, unable to stop her smile. “Aye. I’ve been ill for the last fortnight and have been tired. My courses haven’t come in some time. At least in a month and a half.”
“And how does yer bosom feel?” Sorcha asked. “Do ye have tenderness?”
Faye nearly laughed at the accuracy of the question. “So much that I can scarcely stand for my bodice to be too tight across them. Which seems to be happening more often of late.”
“Because they seem swollen as well?” Sorcha surmised.
Faye’s eyes prickled with tears as she nodded again. “Does that mean…?”
“I canna say for certain until several months have passed and the child quickens in yer womb. But ’tis a strong possibility ye are when ye’re showing so many of the signs.”
Faye’s happy excitement dampened. “Ye don’t have a way to find out?”
Sorcha shook her head, her expression apologetic. “There’s some who think a pregnant woman’s morning waters will rust a needle, but I’ve seen that happen with women who are with child and those who are no’.”
The elation Faye had been swept up in only moments before dissolved into tears. She had wanted so badly to tell Ewan. To have one less secret between them. Then mayhap he might share his with her.
“Lady Sutherland, what is it?” Sorcha asked.
The entire story of how Faye feared to tell Ewan came out. As she talked, Sorcha prepared a tea for her, this one sweet and rich with green herbs that left a lingering nuttiness on her tongue. Far better than the brew Moiré prepared for her daily.
“Ye say Ewan’s first wife was with child?” Sorcha took the empty mug from Faye with a frown.
Suspicion prickled at the edges of Faye’s awareness. “Aye.”
Sorcha tapped a finger on the mug, as though warring with a decision.
“What is it?” Faye asked.
“’Tis only…” Sorcha shrugged her shoulders. “I dinna know she was ever with child. All the times I saw to her were to offer herbs to help find a cure for her barrenness.” “I see,” Faye replied. But, in truth, she didn’t. Mayhap Lara hadn’t gone to the healer, but why would she not?
“I’m sorry I couldna be more help,” Sorcha said.
Faye rose from the wooden seat by the table she’d settled into during her discussion with the healer. “Ye’ve been plenty helpful. Thank ye.”
She paid Sorcha her fee, which the healer tried to decline, and Faye insisted she take and went outside to where Moiré waited by the door.
“Is all well?” Moiré asked anxiously. “That took far longer than I’d anticipated.”
Faye nodded. “I’m with child.” There was a certainty to her words, ones that felt right to say aloud. She’d known in her heart she was.
“That’s wonderful,” Moiré said in a flat voice. Her
