Page 55 of A Scot for Bethan
“Aye. And I, too, am glad your sister didn’t marry Dougal. He wasn’t a bad man, but he would never have made her happy.”
“There is one last thing to tell you,” Bethan said, taking Cameron’s hand to place it on her stomach. It was bigger than usual, but not so big that it was noticeable when she was sat down. In the bailey earlier, she had been wrapped up in her cloak and Siaspar’s attention had been wholly focused on her scar. She was confident he wouldn’t have noticed anything. “I’m with child.”
Never had she been her brother speechless before. Eyes brimming with tears she took the hand he had held out to her across the table.
“Llongyfarchiadau.”
“Congratulations,” she heard Cameron translate to William while she wiped a tear from her cheek.
They spent three wonderful days with Siaspar, hunting, feasting, riding, laughing together. Then finally they departed, with assurances to write regularly with news of his niece or nephew. Such was Bethan’s impatience and the pace she set that it didn’t take them long to reach Castell Esgyrn.
Gwenllian was the first to see her and ran into her arms.
“Bethan! I knew you would not forget us, even though you’re now married to the Scot.” She looked around the bailey and, seeing only Cameron and William, asked. “But what are you doing here, and where is your husband?”
“Here.” Bethan reached out to Cameron, taking his hand in hers. “We got married last week,” she added in English for his benefit.
“But that’s not… I don’t understand. That’s not Dougal, that’s the grizzled old uncle who came in the summer!”
A laugh escaped Bethan’s throat. From the moment they had received the letter informing her of the arrival of the Scots, Gwenllian had taken to calling Laird Campbell, who’d been nothing more than a name at the time, “the grizzled old uncle.”
“It is the uncle,” she agreed. “But there’s nothing old or grizzled about him.”
The irony was not lost on her. Her father had wanted to marry her to the future Laird Campbell and restore family’s prestige. Well, she had done both. She was a rich woman and a lady at the head of a powerful clan. But more importantly, she was a happy woman, and about to become a mother.
“Come. I sense this will be quite a tale to tell. We’ll join the others so you can tell us all at the same time.” Her friend sounded delighted, and not a little excited at the prospect. “Your timing couldn’t have been better, as we were just about to eat.”
As they entered the familiar hall illuminated by the light of a dozen candles, Gwenllian called out to the people assembled at the far end, away from the draughts trying to insinuate themselves through the door. The whole Hunter family was here. Lord and Lady Sheridan were sitting side by side, each with a huge wolfhound at their feet. Rhys was playing dice in a corner with his youngest sister Seren. Jane, her baby son Madoc on her lap, was sitting in front the hearth, while Griffin and their six-year-old twins tended to the fire. Opposite her, Siân, one hand on her swollen belly, was watching her husband Christopher, chase their three daughters around the table. It was a scene of perfect bliss, but she found herself imagining the hall of Nead an Diabhail instead, populated with the family she and Cameron would soon have.
“Guess who’s just arrived?” Gwenllian asked everyone, before turning to face her. The joy in her eyes disappeared in the space of a heartbeat, replaced by a look of pure horror. “Dear God, what happened to you?”
Bethan cursed herself for not warning her friend in advance about the scar. Hadn’t Siaspar’s reaction the other day proved that people would be shocked upon seeing her? She should have remembered. “I will explain everything later. ’Tis nothing.”
Lord Sheridan walked over to them, all fierce intent. “’Tis not nothing. Is your husband mistreating you, Bethan?” he asked, choosing Welsh to make sure to exclude Cameron. “Is that why you’re here?”
“My husband is the best man I’ve ever met. Let me introduce you to him,” she answered, reverting back to English as she tookCameron’s hand in hers. “But you already know Laird Campbell, don’t you?”
A stunned silence filled the room. For a moment all eyes were on her. Then the baby on Jane’s lap started to giggle uncontrollably when one of the dogs licked his hand. Just like that, the tension broke, and Lady Sheridan walked over to her, her face wreathed in smiles.
“Come. You must all be exhausted and hungry,” she said, ever the peacemaker. “We were about to eat, you’ll be pleased to hear.”
“Thank you.”
Everyone joined them around the table, greeting William, who was delighted to see people he hadn’t seen in a long time. Bethan had never felt happier. Before they sat down, Cameron removed her cloak, the gesture bringing attention to her stomach.
It was Seren’s turn to gasp. “You’re with child!”
Bethan’s lips stretched into a smile when all eyes fell on her. Trust the girl to notice it straight away.
“I am.” Indeed, though she looked nothing like Siân, who was approaching her term, her own stomach would be hard to miss. The dress she was wearing was tighter than the one she had worn at Castell y Ddraig.
“Oh, it seems like there is much to tell indeed!” Gwenllian cried out as servants placed the first dishes on the table.
“There is. So let me start at the beginning.”
That night, in bed, Bethan nestled herself against her husband. The welcome they’d received had been everything she could have wished for. It had been a good idea to come in person and see the joy on their faces when she told them her happy news. This time, when she left in a few days’ time, the Hunter family would not worry about her. They would know she was going exactly where she wanted to go, with the Scot she hadchosen for herself rather than the one who had been forced onto her.
“That has been one of the best evenings of my life, but now I’m exhausted,” she said in a yawn.
