“Tomorrow Mari and I will gather down here by the fire,” he informed her. “We’ll have breakfast and share stories until the day grows late, and then we’ll eat a wonderful meal. You are welcome to join us or not. It’s your choice. But I will do this for my wife, because she wants it. We’re not blind as to what lies ahead for us. We know we have only a short time. That is why I’ll not lose the chance to make this new memory.”
He let out a breath and swallowed against the tightness in his throat.
The dowager watched him carefully, her face a mask of neutrality.
“Can you give us this?” he asked. “I ken I have no right to ask anything of you. We don’t get on all that well, and it’s true Mari and I have invaded your home. But I beg you to let her enjoy this one day.”
When she said nothing, he squeezed her hand, surprised she hadn’t flung him off.
“Next Christmas I’ll be in Scotland with our child. And Mari…”
He couldn’t finish. The horrible words wouldn’t come out of his throat.
The frail woman before him pulled one of her hands out from under the weight of his, and to his utter shock, she rested it on top of his hand in a gesture of comfort. She cleared her throat in that regal manner of hers and straightened her already stiff spine. “I suppose we can share a meal. However, I’ll not tell any stories.”
“Of course,” he agreed, and leaned over to place a kiss on her gnarled knuckles. “Thank you, Your Grace.”
Knowing she wouldn’t want the attention, he gave a quick bow and left the room to go comfort his wife.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Mari sat in the seat next to the window and tucked her feet under her. It was raining, but even as she sat there, the sound against the glass changed to the faint tinkle of ice.
Eventually the door opened, and Cam came in to sit next to her.
“It’s all worked out. She’s agreed to allow our celebration.”
“It was never about that.”
“I know.” He pulled her tight against him. “But it’s the one thing I can do, so I’ll thank ye to pretend to be impressed that I’ve done it.”
She let out a laugh despite not being in the mood for levity. That was Cam. He always knew how to make her happy. Even when she didn’t want to be.
“You’re going to be a splendid father.”
“Well, if I’ve managed to win over the miserable old goat, I should have a fair chance at earning the respect of a more reasonable person.”
“You think a child from your stock would be reasonable?”
He laughed once and kissed her temple. “Vixen.”
She placed her hand on his face and looked into those honey eyes. “Thank you. For taking care of it. The day means more to me than it should.”
“I understand.” He took her hand and placed a kiss to her palm before putting it back on his cheek. “I’ll do anything for ye, love. You have only to ask.”
“I know. I’m so glad you’re here.”
He nodded but didn’t say anything.
She knew he didn’t want to be there. He would rather be back at Dunardry preparing the great hall for the holiday feast. The strength it must take for him to remain silent was more impressive than watching him wield his sword or move a pile of large rocks with his bare hands.
That night he held her close, and she asked what they would be doing back home. He went into great detail, sharing tales of the preparations at Dunardry, past and present, until she fell asleep.
The next day they spent as others in the city were doing, quietly celebrating the holiday in the privacy of their homes. After a hearty dinner with the quiet dowager, they sat and read stories in the library in front of the fire.
Mari closed the book she’d been reading, and Cam set something on her lap. It was a horribly embroidered handkerchief that could have only fallen victim to the hands of her sister. “Kenna surely sent this,” she said, overwhelmed with love and amusement.
He laughed. “Aye. She made the handkerchief, but the thing inside it is from me. I wrote and had her send it to me.”
Mari unwrapped the bundle to find a silver locket shimmering in the light by the fire.
“It belonged to my mother.”
She wanted to tell him to keep it, that it was a waste to give it to her, but she didn’t. There was no place for sadness on this day. Instead, she smiled and happily fastened it around her neck.
“These are not for you, but for the babe.” He held out a wooden box. She opened it to find an assortment of wooden animals. Some were smoothed and painted. A few were still raw wood, and it was clear they weren’t completed.
“I still need to finish the cattle. And the wee mouse.”
Mari picked up a rabbit and smiled at the detail, including a tail and a pink nose. “An elephant!” she exclaimed. “I saw one two summers ago.”
“Do I have it right? I remembered you telling me of seeing it. I thought it fascinating and wondered if it was a real creature.”
“It’s just so.” She held it to her chest. “They are wonderful, Cam. Truly.” She placed a kiss on his cheek, and for once the dowager didn’t make a disgruntled sound at their affection.
He picked up another package and took it over to the older woman. Bending down, he placed it on her lap.
Mari had never seen the woman so startled. Cam had shocked the perpetual frown right from her face. It brought a smile to Mari’s lips.
“What are you about?” The frown was back, but Mari could tell the woman was touched.
“Open it and see.”
A wooden carving tumbled out into her lap.
“I know you like to watch the birds in the mornings. You have a special place for the red ones,” Cam noted.
“It’s a horrible likeness,” she said, though her lips were pressed into an indulgent expression. Cam laughed, unaffected by her words. “Really, you shouldn’t have bothered.”
“Well, I did, so you’ll just have to like it.”
The woman tried her best not to, but a slight smile tugged up her lips when Cam bent to kiss the top of her head.
“Impertinent brute.” She swatted at him.
“Miserable goat.” He winked at her.
As promised, Cam launched into the tale of how his father had taught him to carve, and from there the rest of the evening was spent with them sharing stories.
“Your sister sounds like a hoyden,” the dowager said matter-of-factly.