"It's all my fault, I tell you," Patrick repeated in an anguished whisper.
"Hell," Iain muttered. "Of course it's your fault. You took her to your bed-"
"It isn't that," Patrick interrupted.
"Then what is it?" Iain asked when his brother didn't explain.
"I started her laboring. We were talking about Judith's father, and she told me she'd known for years. I became a little angry she hadn't told me and I think I raised my voice to her."
Patrick was inadvertently blocking Judith from entering the cottage while he confessed his sin to his brother. Judith finally shoved him out of her way and ran inside.
She came to a quick stop when she spotted Frances Catherine. Her friend was sitting at the table, brushing her hair. She looked terribly calm. She was humming too.
Frances Catherine smiled at her, then motioned for her to shut the door.
"Hand me that ribbon," Frances Catherine asked. "The pink one by the bed, if you please."
Judith did as her friend requested. She realized her hands were shaking. "How are you feeling, Frances Catherine?" she asked in a worried whisper.
"Just fine, thank you."
Judith stared at her friend a long minute. "Are you having pains now or are you just pretending?"
"If I wasn't, I would," Frances Catherine answered.
Judith walked over to the table and fell into the chair across from her friend. She took a deep breath in an effort to calm her racing heart, then asked her what in God's name she'd meant by that illogical answer.
Frances Catherine was happy to explain. "I am having pains," she said. "But if I wasn't, I would pretend I was just to rile Patrick. I'm leaving him, Judith. No man's going to shout at me, not even my husband. You may help me pack my belongings."
Judith burst into laughter. "Would you like to leave now or after the baby's born?"
Her friend smiled. "After," she said. "I'm not at all afraid," she added in a whisper, turning the topic. "Isn't that peculiar? I've been afraid all during the months of carrying, but now I'm not afraid at all."
"Then why did you call for a priest?"
"To give Patrick something to do."
Judith didn't believe that nonsense. "You wanted to scare Patrick, didn't you?"
"That, too," Frances Catherine conceded.
"You've got a mean streak hidden inside you, Frances Catherine," Judith said. "You've deliberately terrified your husband. Now call him inside and beg his forgiveness."
"I will," her friend promised. "Was it terrible for you?"
She'd switched topics so quickly, Judith took a minute to react "My father's a handsome man," she remarked.
"Did you spit in his eye?"
"No."
"Tell me what happened," her friend demanded.
Judith smiled. "I'm not telling you anything until you speak to your husband. Can't you hear him carrying on outside? Shame on you, Frances Catherine."
A sudden pain gripped her friend. She dropped her brush and took hold of Judith's hand. She was panting by the time the contraction faded away. Judith kept mental count of the seconds that passed during the pain.
"That one was a little stronger than the others," Frances Catherine whispered. "They're still a long time apart, though. Mop my brow, Judith, and then tell Patrick to come inside. I'm ready to hear his apology."
Judith hurried to do just that. She waited outside so that the couple could have some privacy. Iain was sitting on the rock ledge, watching her.
"I've never seen my brother so ill-disciplined," he remarked.
"He loves his wife," she replied. "He's afraid for her."
Iain shrugged. "I love you, but I'm sure as hell not going to carry on the way Patrick is when you give me my son or daughter."
He'd said the words so casually, so matter-of-factly, she was caught off guard. "What did you just say?"
He let her see his exasperation. "I said I wasn't going to lose my control the way Patrick-"
"Before," she interrupted. "You said you loved me. You acted like you meant it."
"I always mean what I say," he told her. "You know that. Judith, how long do you think this birthing is going to take?"
She ignored his question. "You don't love me," she announced in an emphatic tone of voice. "I was just the sacrifice you had to make in order to get your alliance." She didn't give him time to answer her. "The ring gave me away, didn't it? It's identical to the one Douglas wears and you recognized it."
"The ring was familiar to me, but it took me a long time to remember where I'd seen it."
"Exactly when did you remember?"
"When we were at the cemetery," he told her. "Then Patrick heard you ask his wife what she thought I would do if I found out Maclean was your father. He told me, of course, but I already knew."
She shook her head. "I don't understand," she admitted. "If he knew, why did he get so angry with Frances Catherine?"
"He was angry because she hadn't confided in him."
"And so, as soon as you found out who my father was, you married me."
"Damn right," he agreed. He stood up and pulled her into his arms. "Without flowers," he whispered. "I'm sorry about that. Your safety came first. I didn't have time to make it proper for you."
Dear God, how she wanted to believe him. "You didn't have to marry me just to keep me safe."
"Yes, I did," he answered. "It was only a matter of time before one of the elders spotted the damn ring. They would have recognized it."
"I was going to throw it away," she boasted.
He let out a sigh. "You wouldn't have," he said. "You're too tenderhearted to destroy the only link you had to the man who fathered you."
She decided not to argue that possibility with him. "You don't like him, do you?"
"Your father?"
"Yes."
"Hell, no, I don't like him," he replied. "He's a real bastard," he added. "But he's also your father, and since I already knew I was going to keep you, I sent Ramsey to him to talk about an alliance. It would have been more practical to unite with the Dunbars. Their land borders ours, after all, but the Maclean laird is your father and you had a right to eventually claim him… if you wanted to, Judith."
"But you don't trust the Macleans, do you?"
"No," he answered. "As to that, I don't trust the Dunbars much, either."
"Do you like Douglas?"
"Not particularly."
She found his honesty refreshing. "You don't like anyone, do you?"
His smile was filled with tenderness. "I like you."
He always made her breathless when he looked at her like that. Judith had to force herself to concentrate on what they were talking about. She turned her gaze to his chest. "Why was it necessary to form an alliance with either clan? You've always isolated yourselves in the past."
"The Dunbar laird is old, tired, yet he didn't want to pass his duties on to a younger warrior. When I heard he was negotiating with Maclean, I tried to interfere before the union could be formed. The Dunbars added to the Macleans would make them invincible against us. It was a hell of a worry."
"Why didn't you explain this to me?"
"I just did."
He was hedging and they both knew it. "Why didn't you explain before?" she prodded.
"It was difficult for me," he finally admitted. "I've never discussed my concerns with anyone but Patrick before."
"Not even Graham?"
"No."
She pulled away from him and looked up into his eyes. "What made you change your mind?"
"You," he answered. "And Frances Catherine."