Highland Vengeance

Chapter 21

Things improved between Macbeth and myself. I trained myself to worry less over his moods and keep my mind more on my own concerns. Against all odds, I’d gotten lucky with Gillacoemgain. We’d found our way from the start. Even those who married for love struggled the first year of marriage to find their way together. The summer passed peacefully. As time passed, Lulach grew into a strong boy with a mop of dark hair and twinkling blue eyes. Everyone remarked how much he favored me.

It was nearly August when I realized that not only had my courses not come on me again, but my dress was fitting snuggly around my waist. This time, I had no visions of my child as I’d had with Lulach and Crearwy, but from the quickening feelings in my womb, I knew I was with child once more.

Merna was the first to notice. We were sitting outside, and I was busy embroidering a dressing gown for Gwendelofar’s babe who would arrive soon when I noticed Merna eyeing me carefully.

“Gruoch,” she began, her voice light. “How has Lulach taken to eating solid foods?”

In that single moment, I realized that I not only was I sitting around embroidering, but I was also talking about babies. Wasn’t this precisely what I didn’t want?

“Well. He’s taken to bread, cheese, and porridge. And he liked the summer fruits and vegetables. Macbeth tried to get him to eat mashed fish, but he wouldn’t have it.”

“Hmm,” Merna said. “Then you’ve been able to wean him some.”

“Y-yes.”

“Gruoch,” she said then leaned toward me, “Are you with child?”

I set down my embroidery and took a deep breath. “I…I’m uncertain. My courses were not regular yet. But this,” I said, my hand drifting down to my bulging midsection, “seems to suggest there is something to that question.”

Merna reached out and squeezed my hand. “I’m so pleased for you. Macbeth dotes on you so. I cannot imagine his joy when he learns. And Banquo—you’re like a sister to him—will be so pleased for you,” she added, her voice falling a bit flat at the end, her expression darkening for just a moment. She quickly covered it with a smile then pulled her hand back.

Did Merna suspect something between Banquo and me? Or had Banquo told her something?

“Look at Fleance and Lulach,” she said, pointing to her son who was rolling a ball to Lulach. Ute held Lulach’s hands as he walked, but very soon, he would be able to get around on his own. Lulach gave the ball a kick, laughing wildly when he did so. “I hope you have a girl.”

My stomach knotted. I did have a girl. A feisty, sour, but a much-loved girl. “And why do you say that?”

“Our boys will be close. But a girl would give us a way to link our houses.”

Merna had never struck me as the ambitious sort. I eyed her as she gazed happily out at Lulach and Fleance. No. Her words had been spoken out of love. “I hope so too,” I said, setting my hand gently on her arm.

* * *

It was late in the evening when Macbeth returned from the longhouse looking overly tired, but not over-worn with drink, for once. I had laid all the dressing gowns I’d made for Gwendelofar into a pile. I wanted to have everything ready by the time her lying in began.

“What’s this?” Macbeth asked, pausing to look.

“My friend will deliver her baby soon. I’ll go stay with her then, make sure she has someone learned in medicine watching over her. I made these for her little one.”

Macbeth looked down at the tiny garments. His thoughts hung unspoken like a dense fog in the air. In that denseness, I felt his despair. My heart felt glad that, for once, I could do something that would make him pleased with me.

“And after I finish these, I’d best begin a new set.”

“For whom? Merna? She always looks plump to me. I can’t tell if she’s—”

“For me.”

Macbeth stilled. “For…you?”

I nodded then looked up at him.

“Gruoch, are you certain?”

“Yes,” I said, taking his hand and setting it on my stomach.

Laughing, he stroked his hand across my stomach. “Bless you,” he said, kissing me on the cheek. “And bless you,” he said, bending to kiss my stomach.

I laughed.

“Do you know how far along you are?”

I shook my head. “Not for certain. I’m guessing maybe ten or fifteen weeks.” Last time I’d grown so large due to the twins, I showed far earlier, but I didn’t want to bring any of that to Macbeth’s mind. The sooner everyone forgot there had ever been two children, the safer for Crearwy.

To my surprise, Macbeth scooped me up then and carried me to the bed. He planted kisses all over my face then touched my stomach. “A boy or a girl?”

“I don’t know.”

“If a boy, we’ll name him after my father. And if a girl, we’ll name her after my aunt Crearwy. Poor lass, she died young. Did Gil—did anyone ever tell you about her?”

My heart skipped a beat. “Perhaps if it’s a girl, you’d consider my mother’s name?”

“Your mother?” Macbeth said then paused. “Gruoch, I don’t even know who your mother was.

I smiled. “Few remember her. She was Emer.”

“Emer. Emer of House…”

“I don’t know, really. I’ve had no contact with my mother’s family. But Allister, my aunt Madelaine’s first husband, once mentioned that my father went to war against Máel Sechnaill of Ireland, making treaty thereafter which included one of his daughters, my mother.”

Macbeth stared at me. “Máel Sechnaill?”

“I believe that was the name.”

“You’ve never studied the Irish families?”

“No. I’ve heard since before I could remember that I was of Kenneth MacAlpin’s line. I gave little thought to my other family, considering Emer was one of six daughters.”

“Malcolm taught Duncan and me about the wars, the feuds. The blood of the Irish kings is mixed with the old kingdom of Dal Riata. Gruoch, Máel Sechnaill was of the Uí Néill.”

My brow furrowed. “The Uí Néill?”

“The kings of Tara… Gruoch, your mother was an Irish princess.”

“But that’s—”

“No wonder Malcolm keeps you chained to one man or another. As his brother’s daughter and the granddaughter of a foreign king, your claim to the throne outweighs Duncan’s or mine.”

“My mother’s family has forgotten me. My mother died very young, wed off to a foreign prince who died. None of the Uí Néill will remember I exist. It hardly matters.”

“What matters is that you know. And if the need ever arises, we know. But for now, little one, what do you say? What name can we claim for you?” he asked my stomach, laying a gentle kiss thereon. Macbeth stared at me, his eyes swimming with emotion. “I love you, Gruoch.”

“And I you,” I said, but there was hesitation in my heart. Did I love him?