Page 30 of A Fine Scottish Spell (The Magical Matchmakers of Seven Cairns #2)

E mily slowly rose from the depths of a lovely, delicious sleep and became aware of Gryffe’s warm, callused hand resting low on her bare stomach.

His fingers were splayed wide as if to keep her from floating up into the night, and every now and then, they would gently flex in a caress meant to be tender so as not to wake her.

The candle on the mantel had burned out so the only light in the room was that of the full moon peeping in through the window.

Its light shone across the bed, setting them both aglow with an eerie blue-white luminescence.

He whispered something, or at least, she thought he did.

He was so quiet, and she was still so delightfully lethargic from their make up sex that she didn’t know for sure.

“Did you say something?” she asked, speaking softly in case he was asleep, and she had imagined him talking.

He kissed her shoulder and whispered, “I think we made a bairn.”

Still so nicely groggy, she kept her eyes closed and smiled.

“If we didn’t, it wasn’t for the lack of trying.

” He had masterfully re-energized her in the solar with kisses that had kindled all her fires.

After they’d christened every piece of furniture in that room, he had carried her back to the bedroom, and they’d blessed every level spot, and a few not so level spots in that chamber as well.

“But we won’t know for a while. My time is not due for at least another week or so.

” And she wasn’t looking forward to it since what she had seen of feminine products in this century was appalling.

He shifted, propping up on his elbow to peer at her. “Yer time? Ye mean yer courses?”

“Uhm…yes.” Seems like she remembered Jessa calling them that after living in her eighteenth century for a while.

“And my timetable is fairly reliable.” Well, at least it always had been, thanks to the dedication of taking her pills every day, but she’d been without her prescription since arriving here.

Surely, she wouldn’t be likely to get pregnant right away.

The thought both excited and terrified her.

Her last pregnancy had broken her heart.

“Did you have a dream or something that made you think that we’d started a baby? ”

He frowned down at her, his scowl handsome and somber in the moonlight. “Can ye not hear the wee one’s song? Feel its soul stretching and dancing, even?”

So comfortably warm and contented that she never wished to move, she closed her eyes again. “Snuggle closer and go back to sleep. It was a dream.”

“Hmmpf.”

She smiled at the indignance in his growly huff. “Have I insulted you, my chieftain?”

“We started a bairn this verra night, and ye refuse to believe me.”

He was entirely serious. She heard it in his voice. “Is this a fairy thing?” she asked, then inwardly cringed. “I mean…a Fae thing?”

He lovingly placed his hand on her stomach again. “I dinna ken. I only know what I know, and I know I hear new life in yer womb—the life of our child.”

The excitement and depth of his sincerity made her heart ache and swell with more love than she had ever felt before.

She pulled him down to rest his head on her chest and laced her fingers into his hair.

“I love you more than you will ever know,” she whispered, “and I hope what you say is true—but if it is, I am afraid, and you know why.”

He shifted and pulled her into a comforting, protective embrace. “Our bairn is strong and will have met yer sweet Cara before coming to us. All will be well, my love. I swear it.”

She hoped he was right. With all her heart, she hoped he was right, because other than him, she had no one in this time and place that she could lean upon and trust to get her through this should something go wrong. Inalfi had lied to her, and she had trouble getting past that.

“Ye dinna believe me,” he said softly. “I hear the doubt whirring through ye.”

“Overcoming fear is kind of like eating an entire elephant. At one bite at a time, it takes a while to finish it off.”

“What is an elephant?”

“An enormous animal that is about three times the size of your horse.”

“Ahh.”

“And I have no one here other than you—not that you’re not enough—but I have no female friends. No one to talk to. Like you have Ferris when you need to talk to someone to work through your problems.”

“Ye have Inalfi. As yer personal maid, ye should be able to speak with her about anything. She considers yer confidence sacred.”

She clenched her teeth, unwilling to tattle through implication any more than she already had.

Inalfi’s current behavior stemmed from loyalty to him.

Something for which the maid should not be punished.

“Let’s just go back to sleep. I’m sure you’re right.

It’ll be fine. I’ll just make a point to mingle more with the women of the clan.

I am sure I’ll make friends.” She sounded like a nervous kid trying to fit in at a new school, for good reason.

She had met several ladies of the clan, but they all seemed leery about getting too close to the chieftain’s one .

He rolled away from her, left the bed, and lit a fresh candle on the mantel. Then he stood at the foot of their bed, magnificent in his nakedness, and gave her a stern look. “Tell me. Now.”

“Tell you what?”

“Ye ken verra well what . We will not be sleeping until ye tell me what has happened between yerself and yer maid that makes ye unable to look upon her as not only a servant but a confidante and companion.”

“Nothing has happened,” she lied and immediately regretted it because his glower darkened.

Arms folded across his irresistible chest, he paced back and forth at the foot of the bed like a war general planning a major attack. “Would ye care to answer my question again, my love? Preferably with the truth this time?”

“Inalfi is very protective of you. As she should be.” There. Maybe that would satisfy him.

“Protective how?” He jutted his chin higher, studying her with a look that made her nervous. His head slowly tilted to the side, and his eyes narrowed. “When ye came to find me in my solar, ye mentioned wards set to keep ye out. Who put that worry into yer head?”

She tugged the covers up to her chin, rolled over onto her side, and adjusted her pillow. “Come to bed. I’m cold.”

“Inalfi lied to ye, and now, ye dinna trust her.”

Doing her best to hide any reaction to his irritating accuracy at reading her, Emily closed her eyes and wiggled deeper into the pillows. “Come to bed.”

Suprisingly, he did just that, sliding under the covers and curling his warmth around her. “At first light, I shall have her removed and returned to the kingdom. Grennove’s assistant, Breenoa, can attend ye until we find a maid better suited to serve ye.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No—I don’t want her punished for being loyal to you.

She was angry with me for hurting you in the Dreaming.

Just leave her alone.” Unless Inalfi didn’t want to be her maid anymore?

Maybe she didn’t like her. Maybe she never had.

The young Fae woman had often struggled with understanding her.

“I’ll ask her if she wants to go. If she does, then she can go of her own free will. Not because she’s fired.”

“Fired?”

“Dismissed.”

“Ahh.” He kissed the back of her shoulder. “Why do ye care about what the maid wants or needs? Especially after she lied to ye?”

“Because she is a person. She matters.”

“She does not matter when she betrays ye and causes ye to feel even more isolated.”

“Give me a chance to work it out with her. Please?”

He curled tighter around her and kissed her shoulder again. “On one condition.”

“What?”

“I will be kept informed.”

“I promise.” She wiggled back against him and hugged his arms tighter around her. “Now, go to sleep.”

* * *

Even before opening her eyes, Emily sensed something was wrong—or at least, very different .

Without moving and doing her best to appear still deep in slumber, she listened and reached out with her senses as Ishbel had tried to teach her so many times.

She had never managed it that well before.

But this time, she fully intended to conquer the elusive ability.

Rustling. The rustling of purposeful steps. It had to be Inalfi bustling about the room. She always came in after Gryffe rose and went out to do whatever he did so unbelievably early every morning. But there was something else.

Emily centered herself by counting her slow, deep breaths, then envisioned the bedchamber, searching it with her inner sight as well as what made its way to her ears.

The hushed yet sharp thud of drawers, the abrupt click of the wardrobe’s door, and the hurried thump of the water pitcher tattled on Inalfi’s current frame of mind.

No surprise there. Although how the maid couldn’t possibly know that her chieftain and his lady had set things right—Emily’s cheeks flushed hot.

There had a been a few times where they had gotten very loud.

The entire keep had to of heard them making up .

She didn’t relish the idea of speaking to Inalfi and asking her if she wanted to leave, but if she didn’t do it first thing, Gryffe would do it for her.

Rather than open her eyes and start the day with that unpleasant task, she kept them shut and continued sweeping the room with her senses.

Was she procrastinating? Yes. But only for a little while.

Then an odd brightness caught her inner eye.

It was beside the window, but there wasn’t sunshine beaming into the room.

That was impossible. That window faced the west. And the faint tinkling of metal against porcelain—a spoon in a teacup, maybe?

Ishbel would be so proud of her for getting this far without giving up and popping open her eyes.