Page 80 of Love Me Forever
The dawn rose on gray skies, for winter had set in with a flourish. The cold wind would whisper through the keep, and the fires would roar with heat, and she would snuggle beneath the wool blankets and think about Royce.
She thought often about their time together in the cottage, of his actions, his words and of his love. And she thought of all the choices he had given her and continued to give her.
She placed her hand to her stomach, a hint of a smile surfacing. She had counted the days over and over, thinking that perhaps she was wrong, but in her heart, she knew she was not. She attempted to deny the obvious at first, and when that was not possible, she began to accept and began to pray that it was true, that Royce’s child nestled in her womb.
Arran had convinced her that she was barren, and after some time passed, she began to believe him. After all, why was she not conceiving? He repeatedly told her that she was a failure as a wife and as a woman. It was all her fault and he had to suffer because of her ineptness.
A grin surfaced slowly, growing wide. Arran had been wrong. She was not a failure as a woman. He was a failure as a man. Royce was not; he was truly a man, for it mattered not to him if she could give him a child. He loved her regardless and made love to her regardless.
Royce knew how to love. Arran knew nothing of love. And now because of love, a child nestled within her.
She intended to tell no one. This was her secret, and she would share it with no one but Royce and only when she chose to do so. He would be returning soon, and she had decided on one important issue. It would be her choice to wed and not because she carried his child, but because they both wished it and wished it because of love.
Royce’s scars were visible; hers were not. Arran had left her with many fears, and if she were not careful, those fears would prevent her from loving and being loved.
Moira had been right when she suggested that she examine the questions instead of looking for answers. In her questions she learned about her fears and where they originated.
Now that she was armed with that information, she could better understand her circumstances and make wiser decisions.
Feeling better than she had of late, she climbed out of bed to dress. The sudden movement caused her to feel faint and she grew nauseated. She hurried to the bucket of water near the hearth and drenched her face, hoping it would alleviate her unease. Her nausea grew worse, and she grabbed for a nearby bowl. Having not eaten since last evening, there was nothing in her stomach to purge, and when she was done, she made her way back to bed and collapsed.
She smiled, laughed, and hugged herself, though she felt wretched. She carried Royce’s bairn
, and the thought made her so happy that it did not matter how terrible she felt. She was happy, happier than she had ever been.
An hour later she rose, feeling much better and looking forward to the day. She dressed in a deep purple tunic and pale blue underdress. She pinned up her hair with polished bone combs, allowing several stubborn strands to fall along her neck and frame her face. A soft blush painted her cheeks and her blue eyes sparkled. She felt and looked radiant, and there was not a person in or out of the keep who did not comment.
The day was busy helping Moira in her workshop, playing with Duncan, and foraging in the woods with Anne for a strange array of things that Moira requested.
She had barely grabbed a cup of hot cider from the kitchen and was just about to retire to her room for a rest when a villager burst through the great hall doors admitting a gust of winter wind along with his excitement.
“He returns!”
Brianna froze, knowing full well whom he spoke of and feeling her own excitement at Royce’s return.
Ian entered the great hall, tossing his fur to a bench and walking toward her. His cheeks were red from the wind, his dark hair in disarray, and his strides determined.
“You are ready for his return?”
Moira appeared and answered for her, slipping her arm through her husband’s. “She is ready.” She looked to Brianna with a smile.
Brianna returned her smile and nodded. “Aye, I am ready.”
“Is there anything you wish of me, Brianna?” Ian asked, wanting his sister to know that whatever her decision, he would abide by it.
She laughed softly. “For you to continue to be the loving brother you have always been.”
“You make it easy,” he said and kissed her cheek.
A commotion outside the double doors caught their attention, and the three walked to stand in front of the dais, waiting to greet Royce and his men.
Brianna’s heart pounded in anticipation. It had been several weeks since his departure, and there was not a day she had not thought about him, not a day she had not missed him, not a day she had not loved him.
The doors burst open and several men marched in wearing the blue and green tartan of the clan Campbell. They preceded their leader out of respect and protection, though immediately moved to the side, leaving room for his entrance.
Brianna waited, her breath caught in her throat, her heart beating wildly, and then she saw him and the sight of him made her gasp and step closer to her brother.
His scars had healed; even the deep one on his face was nothing more than a thin pale red line. His lip was normal, his eye no longer swollen and red. His eyes were stunning, a dark wintergreen color and intense in their boldness as though he saw all and knew all. His long dark hair was a rich mahogany and the two braids that hung on either side were entwined with pale leather strips. She was familiar with his body, but he seemed bigger and stronger to her somehow. Perhaps it was the pride in the way he wore his tartan or the glimmer of the gold brooch at his shoulder. Whatever the reason, he looked more handsome than Brianna ever thought possible.
