Page 86 of The Groom Wore Plaid
Hugh only grinned, and Riona looked from her husband to Maggie with confusion.
“Then I’ll show ye another emotion, Maggie,” Hugh said, his smile fading. “Empathy. I sense a difference in ye, and I see ye holding your belly as if in protection.”
Maggie stiffened, then dropped her hand, trying not to blush with guilt.
Lady Aberfoyle’s expression turned from shock to happiness to worry, all in the blink of an eye. “Margaret, ye’re with child?”
“I—I think so,” she admitted. “’Tis too soon to ken for certain—”
“Then our children will grow up together!” Riona cried happily, as if forgetting that her fears had begun this conversation.
“Ye’re pregnant, too?” Maggie asked, allowing delight to raise her spirits.
Riona grinned and nodded, and they both hugged. Maggie saw her brother watching with fond satisfaction, as if he’d set everything up himself. And in a way he had, kidnapping the wrong bride and setting in motion the conflict that even now interfered between Owen and her.
As for Maggie’s admission of pregnancy, no one looked embarrassed or ashamed, for in the Highlands, a child was welcomed, and often sealed the bond between the mother and father. In fact, Hugh looked downright relieved.
Maggie gave him a light swat on the shoulder. “Stop that! In England, ye’d be calling Owen out for dishonoring me instead of looking like ye’re thrilled to be an uncle. Am I not right, Riona?”
“Yes, she’s right,” Riona admitted.
“But we aren’t in England,” Hugh said easily. “We’re in the Highlands, and what started out as a betrothal to end a feud has changed into one where the two of ye cannot keep your hands off each other. I am only sorry to know there are still ignorant people who don’t want peace.” And then he scowled. “Ye’re certain ye’ve got the right man locked up?”
“The evidence against him is mounting,” Maggie said. “And nothing has happened to me since he’s been confined.” She touched her stomach again. “And I’ve been shown a dream that I was with child—it seems I’m meant to marry Owen.”
Maggie thought she’d calmed and comforted her family enough, but her mother followed her to her room when it was time for them all to retire.
Maggie welcomed her with a smile. “I’m afraid I don’t need the wedding-night explanation from the mother of the bride.”
Lady McCallum winced. “I cannot claim I’m unhappy about that. I’ve heard ’tis an awkward conversation. But things must be going better between ye if ye’re carrying his babe.”
“Better, aye.” Maggie sagged onto the edge of the bed, where her mother joined her. “But . . . he doesn’t love me, Mathair; he cannot believe in me.”
“How do ye ken he cannot love ye? Just because he hasn’t said the words yet? He’s a man, and sometimes sentimentality is a difficult thing to admit.”
Maggie shrugged. She wanted to believe that, but . . . “Oh, he wants me, and has no problem showingthoseemotions,” she said wryly, once again touching her stomach. “He was happy that the revelation of the baby changed my mind about the marriage.”
“I thought Gregor’s capture did that?” Lady McCallum asked uneasily.
“It did. But Mathair, Gregor professes his innocence, still. I guess only a complete admission of guilt will truly satisfy me. What if—what if I marry Owen and—” She broke off as her throat became too full to speak.
“Ye do love him,” her mother said, sympathy gleaming in her eyes.
Maggie nodded. “But how can he ever love me if he doesn’t believe in my dreams?”
“If he respects ye—and I think he does, because he didn’t force ye to marry immediately—then love should follow, my lass. Ye’ve already committed to this marriage. Commit to believing that Owen has feelings he doesn’t know how to express. Commit to a happy future, where Gregor can never bother ye again.”
Maggie nodded, quickly wiping away a solitary tear. “Look at me. I never thought I’d be crying on the eve of my wedding.”
“Perhaps it only proves the depth of your emotion. I have faith in ye. And I have faith in Owen. He didn’t have to propose to ye; he could have taken our prized land and left us with no way to earn coin in these difficult times. He has honor.”
Maggie nodded again, then accepted her mother’s hug and held on longer than necessary. Then her mother kissed her forehead and left.
Maggie was alone, wondering for the thousandth time if she was doing the right thing.
CHAPTER20
Maggie tried to enjoy her wedding day, but every moment was steeped in a creeping sense of rising fear. Owen had surprised her by having the seamstresses make a new gown—the one she’d been wearing in her dream. She’d stared at it as Kathleen had held it up, and horror was a nausea that seemed to rise from her belly and into her throat. In the end, she’d stood a little too close to the fire, and Kathleen had had to toss the pitcher of water at the hem to combat any flames. Maggie felt guilty, and promised Kathleen they’d repair the gown for the next big assembly or festival—but she wasn’t going to wear it on her wedding day.
