“I want the child,” I said.
She shook her head sadly. “Not here, not now? To bear a bastard child in these parts is dangerous. You’ll be ostracized by everyone—even some in our own coven!”
Kyra was right. To give birth to a child out of wedlock was a sin shunned by all in the Highlands. My life would be ruined. I folded my arms across my belly. “ ’Twill be fine, for the child has a father. Diarmuid will come to me before Imbolc.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
I bit my lips tight, refusing to answer.
“No one has to know you lost the babe! I’ve heard you can brew a tea—”
“ ’Tis enough talk of that!” I insisted. “Diarmuid will be a father to my child.” I drew the shawl around me closer. “I’m sure he would be here now if he knew...” As my words trailed off, I realized I had stumbled upon the solution.
This baby would bring Diarmuid to me. Once he knew of its life, he would leap over the obstacles between us.
“That’s it,” I said, blinking. “I must tell him.” I stood up, feeling strength rise within me. “I must go to him.”
Kyra stared up at me, shaking her head.
“If I go to him with news of our child, surely he will think of a way for us to be together! He will be so overcome with joy, nothing will deter him.”
“But the note...” Kyra stood up and brushed her skirts. “He said that...”
I waved her off. “He knew nothing of our child when he wrote that.” I headed toward the cottage, thinking of the new possibilities. “Perhaps when his parents learn of our babe, they will soften, too. We could live with them. Or if they reject us, Diarmuid shall come live among the Wodebaynes. I know our coveners will be suspicious of him, but once they come to know him, they will accept him.”
With each breath, the flush of health filled my body. I had been sick over Diarmuid, but the cure was within my grasp now. I could go to my love. And once he learned of the blessed child within my womb, he would welcome me with open arms.
The following day I set off in a horse-drawn cart toward Diarmuid’s village of Lillipool. Falkner had managed to secure the cart and horse from his father’s shop, and Kyra sat between us, warning of the punishment the three of us would face if our parents found out the true reason for our visit to Lillipool. She could be so mettlesome at times, though I did have her to thank for arranging for the cart. In my current condition, I was not sure I could walk all the way to Lillipool without incident.
Lillipool was considered to be a Christian village, though for some time our coven had known that the Vykrothes had a circle nearby and Leapvaughn sheepherders lived in cottages on its outskirts. There was the usual small church, which I assumed Diarmuid’s clan attended to avoid persecution as witches. A mill cranked at the edge of the village. We passed by it, then came upon the village center. In Lillipool’s small, dusty square, peddlers displayed their wares amid clouds of blowing dirt. No one knew why grass refused to grow on the village green here, but my mother had once told me that although Leapvaughns have a gift for sales and carpentry, they were known to be barren farmers.
Falkner guided the wagon through the lane, stopping for passing villagers who paid us little mind. He brought the cart over to a small wagon at the end of the square, its side panel painted Ye Finest Wood Crafters. “I’ve got to pick up a table for Da,” he said. “ ’Twill be a short while, if you want to walk around.”
He helped us down from the cart, and we dusted our skirts and stepped forward gingerly, our arms linked.
“I hope he is here,” I said. “His father likes him to tend the sheep, but Diarmuid prefers to spend his time in the village and at market.”
Kyra nodded, averting her eyes as a tin peddler leered at her. “ ’Tis an odd village,” she said. “Like a desert in the Highlands.”
As we walked past a tinker’s wagon, a cart laden with fruits, and another with an array of bonnets, I kept searching for Diarmuid. I spotted a lad who walked with the same gait and another who seemed to share his broad smile, but I did not see my love.
When we reached the end of the row of carts, I spied a head of gingery brown hair. It was feathered back from his face, revealing startling blue eyes and a smile that warmed my heart.
Diarmuid.
“There he is!” I gasped.
Kyra squeezed my arm. “You found him.”
But he was not alone. A tall, swanlike girl with pale yellow hair walked beside him.
“Who is she?” Kyra muttered.
“I don’t know. Perhaps a friend.”
Kyra looked back toward the cart. “I’ll go see if Falkner can find out.”
I barely noticed that she had left my side. My Diarmuid was within reach, so close I could run into his arms, yet something kept me there, my feet mired to the ground. Who was the girl? I watched in horror as she said something to him, making him laugh. It had all the markings of flirtation. But then he chucked her under the chin, seeming more like an older brother. An older woman came by and handed the girl a tart. She took a taste, then fed the rest to Diarmuid with her bare fingers.
Such an intimate gesture. And he took it from her hand, licking his lips. Oh, Goddess, what did it mean?
“Rose,” Kyra said, softly resting her hand on my arm. “ ’Tis terrible. your worst fears confirmed! She is Diarmuid’s betrothed! They were promised to each other as children, and they are to be wed upon next Samhain!”
I shook my head. “An arranged marriage?” How could it be? Why had he never told me? I pressed my hands to my hot cheeks. If Diarmuid was promised to another, we had no chance of being married.
“Oh, Rose!” Kyra squeezed my arm. “Such dire news, and you with child...”
It couldn’t be. My hands dropped to fists at my side, and for a moment I wanted to rush over and pummel him. Diarmuid was not the hero I had thought him to be. He had lied to me.
But then, he’d faced overwhelming obstacles. Perhaps he’d been trying to protect me from this until he sorted it out? And if his parents had arranged the marriage, that meant he’d had no choice. “So he doesn’t love her,” I said, thinking aloud. “And of course, his parents would want him to marry within his clan. I’m sure it’s part of the reason they don’t want him to marry me.”
“Not really,” Kyra said. “The girl’s name is Siobhan MacMahon, and she is not a Leapvaughn, but a Vykrothe.”
“An arranged marriage to someone from another clan?” Anger rose in my throat, hot and painful. His parents thought it acceptable for him to marry outside his clan but not to marry me? Or was it that he could not marry a Wodebayne?
“Falkner has the table loaded in the cart,” Kyra said. “He’s ready to leave.”
“But I haven’t...” I glanced over at Diarmuid. Siobhan still hovered about him like a bee collecting nectar from a flower. It was hardly the time to march over and tell the boy I was going to bear his child.
This meeting had not worked out the way I’d planned. Not at all.
“Rose, you’re crying,” Kyra said gently.
“No matter.” I swiped the tears out of my eyes with the backs of my hands. I needed to see him with her. I needed to see the enemy.
I stared at the swan-necked girl who was fawning over Diarmuid. She was tall and lithe, with flaxen gold hair. Everything about her was the physical opposite of me.
Diarmuid could not love one so unlike me. How could it be, Goddess? How was it possible that he could love another at all?
“We’d better go,” Kyra said.
I felt her clamp my arm and pull me away toward the cart, my eyes still on Diarmuid’s betrothed. How could he even think of marrying another?
How could he?
9. On the Making and Charming of Poppets
I promised myself I would cry no more. Everyone knew too much sobbing could harm the child in a mother’s womb, and I was beginning to learn that tears were futile. I needed to do something to secure my baby’s happiness and health.