across it. “Weel, that could change any moment. Believe it’d be best for me to stay in the castle instead of down in the village so I’ll be to hand when ye’ve need of me.”
She pulled a vial filled with green, nasty-smelling liquid from her small satchel and put it to Margaret’s lips. Margie made a face, but she drank it down, as dutifully as an obedient child.
“Rest ye for now, my lady. That’s the main thing. The time will come soon enough when ye’ll have no rest at all.”
When Margaret sighed and closed her eyes, Katherine pulled Beathag across the room and mouthed, “How is the child?”
Fortunately, though the old woman’s eyes were going, her hearing was still keen. “He pushed back when I examined my lady. He’s still moving.” Then her wiry grey brows knit together over her sharp nose. “But I’ll not say ’tis not serious. There’s a poultice I can apply that will help stop the bleeding but it’ll take a bit to prepare. I don’t expect Cook will appreciate me in the kitchen. Is there a stillroom?”
“Aye, off the solar. Lady Margaret keeps it well stocked with medicinal herbs and such.”
“Good. I’ll nip down and see about it then. She’ll sleep now. Wish I could.” Beathag yawned hugely, every one of her years etched plainly in her tired face. “I’ll take meself to Jamison before I return to see can he find me lodging here. Ye’ll stay with her, aye?”
Katherine nodded.
“Call for me if the bleeding worsens.” She lowered her voice. “Or if she no longer feels movement.” The old woman toddled off to find the stillroom.
Katherine went over and perched on the side of Margaret’s bed, then took her sister-in-law’s icy hand in hers. She’d have Dorcas stoke up the fire if the gabby goose ever returned. The girl didn’t seem the sort who’d be especially helpful in a sickroom without a lot of direction, but at least she had a willing spirit.
Margie’s eyes opened slowly and she squeezed Kat’s fingers. She ran the fingertips of her other hand in slow circles over her distended belly. “I feel much better now.”
The pupils of Margie’s eyes were so dilated, her expression so flat and unconcerned, Kat was certain that green stuff Beathag Hardie had given her was some sort of poppy juice.
“I think we should send for Donald,” Katherine said.
Margaret’s eyes flared wide at that. “No. I dinna want him to see me like this.”
Katherine bristled. “If my brother saw what you go through to give him children, maybe he’d be more attentive the rest of the time.”
“No, I dinna want him to think I’ve been complaining.”
Katherine knew she shouldn’t speak ill of her brother, but she was so afraid for Margie, if Donald were in Glengarry now, she’d be tempted to box his ears. “By the Rood, ye’ve reason to complain. As ye said yourself, the man canna be bothered with his own family for longer than it takes to get ye with—”
“Hush, my dear Kat.” Margie reached up and stroked her hair as if Katherine were one of her brood of children. “Dinna fret yourself. ’Twill be all right. Ye’ll see. I’ve wide hips, ye ken. Like a brood mare, Donald says. I’ve yet to have trouble birthing a bairn.”
Then between one breath and the next, Margaret’s eyes drifted closed and she fell asleep. Katherine ventured a hand on her belly.
The child made his mother’s abdomen undulate under Kat’s palm.
“God be praised,” she murmured. The miracle of another life gave her palm a little kick.
“How is she?”
Katherine startled at the soft masculine voice behind her and turned toward the sound. It was William. She hadn’t heard him enter the chamber. For a big man, he could be as quiet as a cat when it suited him.
“Sleeping. The bairn is still . . .” Somehow saying the child was alive now made the possibility that later he might not be more real. “I felt movement a moment ago.”
“Good.” He nodded curtly and went to stir up the
She pulled a vial filled with green, nasty-smelling liquid from her small satchel and put it to Margaret’s lips. Margie made a face, but she drank it down, as dutifully as an obedient child.
“Rest ye for now, my lady. That’s the main thing. The time will come soon enough when ye’ll have no rest at all.”
When Margaret sighed and closed her eyes, Katherine pulled Beathag across the room and mouthed, “How is the child?”
Fortunately, though the old woman’s eyes were going, her hearing was still keen. “He pushed back when I examined my lady. He’s still moving.” Then her wiry grey brows knit together over her sharp nose. “But I’ll not say ’tis not serious. There’s a poultice I can apply that will help stop the bleeding but it’ll take a bit to prepare. I don’t expect Cook will appreciate me in the kitchen. Is there a stillroom?”
“Aye, off the solar. Lady Margaret keeps it well stocked with medicinal herbs and such.”
“Good. I’ll nip down and see about it then. She’ll sleep now. Wish I could.” Beathag yawned hugely, every one of her years etched plainly in her tired face. “I’ll take meself to Jamison before I return to see can he find me lodging here. Ye’ll stay with her, aye?”
Katherine nodded.
“Call for me if the bleeding worsens.” She lowered her voice. “Or if she no longer feels movement.” The old woman toddled off to find the stillroom.
Katherine went over and perched on the side of Margaret’s bed, then took her sister-in-law’s icy hand in hers. She’d have Dorcas stoke up the fire if the gabby goose ever returned. The girl didn’t seem the sort who’d be especially helpful in a sickroom without a lot of direction, but at least she had a willing spirit.
Margie’s eyes opened slowly and she squeezed Kat’s fingers. She ran the fingertips of her other hand in slow circles over her distended belly. “I feel much better now.”
The pupils of Margie’s eyes were so dilated, her expression so flat and unconcerned, Kat was certain that green stuff Beathag Hardie had given her was some sort of poppy juice.
“I think we should send for Donald,” Katherine said.
Margaret’s eyes flared wide at that. “No. I dinna want him to see me like this.”
Katherine bristled. “If my brother saw what you go through to give him children, maybe he’d be more attentive the rest of the time.”
“No, I dinna want him to think I’ve been complaining.”
Katherine knew she shouldn’t speak ill of her brother, but she was so afraid for Margie, if Donald were in Glengarry now, she’d be tempted to box his ears. “By the Rood, ye’ve reason to complain. As ye said yourself, the man canna be bothered with his own family for longer than it takes to get ye with—”
“Hush, my dear Kat.” Margie reached up and stroked her hair as if Katherine were one of her brood of children. “Dinna fret yourself. ’Twill be all right. Ye’ll see. I’ve wide hips, ye ken. Like a brood mare, Donald says. I’ve yet to have trouble birthing a bairn.”
Then between one breath and the next, Margaret’s eyes drifted closed and she fell asleep. Katherine ventured a hand on her belly.
The child made his mother’s abdomen undulate under Kat’s palm.
“God be praised,” she murmured. The miracle of another life gave her palm a little kick.
“How is she?”
Katherine startled at the soft masculine voice behind her and turned toward the sound. It was William. She hadn’t heard him enter the chamber. For a big man, he could be as quiet as a cat when it suited him.
“Sleeping. The bairn is still . . .” Somehow saying the child was alive now made the possibility that later he might not be more real. “I felt movement a moment ago.”
“Good.” He nodded curtly and went to stir up the
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