Page 40 of A Scot for Bethan (The Welsh Rebels #6)
Chapter Sixteen
T wo weeks after their wedding, Bethan and Cameron rode in through the gate of Castell Esgyrn at sunset, taking everyone by surprise.
On the way they had first stopped at Castell y Ddraig to inform her brother of the events of the last few months.
It was more than time she told Siaspar what had happened to her since they had last seen one another.
Caught in the whirlwind of events of the past three months, she had not found the time or the courage to write.
It had seemed harsh to shower him with the distressing news of Dougal’s death, of her near abductions, of her carrying a child who would never know its real father—and have nothing good to add to mitigate the news.
Then when William had offered to marry her, she had elected to wait until they were wed before traveling to Wales and assure her brother in person that all was well, or at least as well as it could be under the circumstances.
Now she was able to do even better and tell him she had married the man of her dreams and was going to start her family in a place she loved.
William, who’d become fast friends with Cameron, had insisted on accompanying them. Having known the Hunter family nearly all his life, he wished to see their seat in Wales at last. This was as good an opportunity as any and they had been more than happy to have him travel with them.
The three of them reached her brother’s castle one sunny morning, and found Siaspar in the bailey, talking to his friend Rhodri. Heart bursting with joy, Bethan dismounted and ran up to him.
“ Chwaer !” The term of endearment that had burst out at the sight of her, the one she had feared never to hear again, died on his lips. Instead of drawing her into the embrace she had expected, Siaspar held her at arms’ length, fury distorting his face. “Tell me who dared to do that to you.”
For a moment, Bethan wondered what he was talking about.
Who had done what? Then it hit her. Of course, the scar!
How could she have forgotten how she looked now, and how it would appear to him?
William never passed any comments and Cameron never looked at her any differently than he had in the summer, making her feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.
Because of that, it was easy for her to imagine herself looking the way she had before she cut herself.
Except that she did not, and she had worried her brother.
“It’s nothing,” she soothed, berating herself for her lack of foresight. “I should?—”
“It’s not nothing! Did he hurt you thus?
” he asked her, glaring at Cameron, who was standing by his horse, waiting patiently.
Though he didn’t understand Welsh yet, he would have guessed what her brother was saying.
Still, as he had nothing to blame himself for, he appeared as calm as ever.
“Or your damned Scottish husband? Is that him, by the black horse? He’s a dead man if he?—”
“No, this is not Dougal. I will explain about the scar in due time.” It would not be an easy conversation, but she owed him the truth.
It wasn’t fair to allow him to place blame on Cameron or anyone else for something she had done herself.
“But first let me introduce you to Sir William Parry, my friend from Sheridan Manor.”
Siaspar nodded, marginally appeased. He had heard much about the man over the years, and knew how close the two of them were. “Welcome to Castell y Ddraig. It is good to finally meet you. My laird, welcome back.”
“Thank you,” the two men said in unison.
“But what are you doing here?” Siaspar asked next. “Is there?—”
“If we can have a drink first, I promise to tell you all.”
A moment later, around a table laden with delicacies, Bethan explained everything.
There was no need to hide the truth, she was with the three men who loved her most in the world and they would not judge her.
By the time she had finished, her brother was no longer glaring at Cameron, even if he was having difficulty suppressing his ire at the thought of all she’d had to endure.
“Welcome to the family,” he said, raising his cup to him. “I will admit I am relieved to see Bethan never married the Scot.”
“Well, I am a Scot, in case you hadn’t noticed,” her husband answered with a side smile—and a stronger than usual accent.
“You know what I mean.”
“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, Sian, 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 took Cameron’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 Sian, 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.”