“I’ll not be going anywhere without my wife,” he said calmly.
“Then by all means, take her with you. I was happy here on my own.”
Mari didn’t understand how anyone could be happy being as alone as the dowager always was. It was as if the old woman had imposed her own prison. She could go anywhere, be with anyone, but the dowager always chose to reside in whatever house the rest of her family wasn’t inhabiting at the time.
Until now.
“As I’m sure you recall,” Cam pointed out, “she is being forced to stay here by the court.”
Mari put on a smile. “Perhaps you would be more comfortable at one of the country estates, Mother.”
“I’ve told you not to call me that!” the dowager snapped.
Mari thought she saw a flash of pain across her face, but it was gone before she could be sure.
“And I will not be forced out of my own home by the likes of Scottish heathens.”
“I believe I’ve mentioned that I prefer brute or barbarian over heathen,” Cam said, finishing up the food on his plate.
“You’re not helping,” Mari said crossly.
“I’d argue that I am, since I’m giving instruction on the proper epithets for Scots.” He held out his large hands in innocence.
God, he was infuriating. She’d deal with him later.
“Please consider going somewhere else more comfortable for the time being,” Mari advised the one woman here who could actually leave.
“I’m sure you’d be happy to send me traveling at this time of year. I’d no doubt catch my death in this weather.”
Mari felt a stab of guilt. It was true that the chill of winter was upon them. She sighed in defeat. “All right then, we’ll stay here together. It’s nearly Christmastide. We should all try to find a charitable spirit for the holiday.” She eyed her husband.
He took her hand and drew her closer to him. It wasn’t uncommon for a man to be protective of his wife. But she thought the gesture odd when faced with an aging woman who wasn’t even as tall as Mari, partnered with a frail house servant.
She patted Cam’s hand and tried again. “Perhaps we can start by sharing the breakfast table together. May I get you something to eat, Moth—I mean, Your Grace?”
“I think not. I’ll stay in my rooms until he is gone.”
“It will be quite a long exile, Your Grace,” Cam offered. “Mayhap you should take some sustenance first.”
“You’re really not helping,” Mari repeated in exasperation.
Cam laughed as the old woman sniffed and quit the room. “Aye. That time I wasna trying to.”
…
“I must admit, I like having a library,” Cam said while pouring whisky into a fancy glass. Good whisky, at that.
“You like to read?” Mari asked from her seat across from him. “Wouldn’t the dowager be surprised you are capable of such a civilized thing.”
They shared a smile.
“My parents used to take turns reading stories aloud to us each night. It was my favorite time of day.”
“And not just because your belly was full from just eating supper?” she teased.
“That might have been part of it.” He glanced around the room and inhaled the smells of paper and leather. “I’ve always enjoyed being around books. Being in this room, I can almost feel them tugging me toward their secrets. All the things they already know that are just sitting there, waiting for me to learn them, too.”
Mari smiled and rubbed her stomach. “I hope you will continue the tradition and read to our child each night.”
Cam nodded. “Aye. I will. I promise.” Neither of them spoke of the immediate future, but he knew they both thought about it often. That he would be reading to their child alone because she would be gone.
Perhaps it wasn’t too late. He hadn’t been enough to make her fight to stay. But maybe their child would be. Maybe…
It was time to tell her of his plans.
He took a seat across from her. “I want to tell you something. Though it hardly matters now, but it was a plan I’d wanted to share with you.”
She reached for his hand. “Tell me.”
“I asked Lach for a place for us. That field where we first met. I had planned to build us a proper home there. Nothing as extravagant as what you were used to here, but a home of our own. I didn’t want you living in a cottage or in my chambers in the castle. I wanted to give us a place that was just ours.”
She swallowed. “It sounds lovely.”
He let out a breath and flashed a smile. “I’d planned to have a library, too, for all the fancy houses have them.” He stood again and walked to the window, allowing his finger to trail down the glass. “It would have taken me forever to afford it. We would have been gray and wrinkled before we’d have been able to live there. Our children would be grown with their own little ones, no doubt.” He clenched his fist. “I’m grateful for this place and the time we have, but at times…my heart fills with rage at the unfairness of it all.”
She went to him and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her cheek against his back.
“Pretending everything is wonderful isn’t working,” she whispered. “It was unrealistic to think we could keep all of our fears inside and not be affected by them. I think it’s better that we are honest with each other and ourselves.”
He nodded and shifted to hold her. “Are you scared?” he asked quietly.
“Yes. Terribly.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Cam had gone on errands early the next morning and still arrived first for breakfast. He filled his plate and had just taken his seat when a woman’s scream had him running out of the room.
“She fell down the stairs,” Parkes said from the foyer, clearly upset.
Cam raced to get to his wife. The baby. But it wasn’t Mari lying on the floor at the bottom of the stairs, but the dowager. The prideful biddy was attempting to get up, using her cane to support herself and failing at the attempt.
“Be still, woman, until we assess how badly you’re injured. Parkes, send for a healer,” he ordered.
“At once, sir.”
“I’m fine,” the dowager barked, but winced and whimpered as the final word crossed her lips.
“Aye, I see that. Let’s check you over.” As he did on a battlefield with wounded soldiers, he went about checking her legs and arms.