Page 77 of Hold Fast

Una laughed ruefully. “Your brother didnae take the news so well.”

“How did he take it?”

When Una didn’t answer, Joan said, “He ran out of the room as if she’d lit his arse on fire.”

Cat rolled her eyes and blew a gusty breath out of pursed lips. “Surely it isnae because of our mother.”

“Perhaps,” Una said. “I ken he is afraid.”

Cat didn’t say another word. All three of them been orphaned by their mothers in one way or another. One at birth and the others as children, one to death and one to abandonment. Unawasafraid of birth. She’d seen firsthand how quickly it could go terribly wrong. She would be off her headnotto fear it. But it was the sort of fear that made a person more aware, a fear that had somewhat soft edges and often looked like something else entirely.

True, a birth could go badly. But so, too, could riding a horse or shearing a sheep or even walking in the wrong place at the wrong time. Childbirth was a hazard, but life itself was a hazard. Una’s fear felt so companionable because it was bound to something far more buoyant.

Hope.

Hope had been the unflappable bird that had beat its wings inside Una’s chest every day since leaving Malcolm Cameron’s clutches. She would not let go of it now.

Una squeezed Cat’s hand. “All will be well.”

Cat nodded. “I am sorry that Ewan didnae take it well, though, Una. It is such happy news.”

“You understand men like your brother, m’lady,” Joan said, wrapping an arm around Una and hugging her into her side. “They’re the first in line when something needs to be stabbed, but the last in the room to sort out how they feel about anything.”

Cat laughed. “Unfortunately, Una, you’ve yoked yourself to a long line of stubborn men. They’ll never forsake you, but they’ll drive you mad.”

“Perhaps I’ll be lucky and have a daughter.”

With that, Cat came to her knees dramatically, her hands pressed together and her head bent in prayer. “Holy Mother, watch over us in our hour of need. Keep us ever in your sight. Give us the strength to live among the MacDonald men and the patience to keep from smacking them daily. Pray for our souls, Mother of God, that we may one day walk beside you having already atoned for our sinful ways by living among these goats. And let Una’s child be a daughter so that we may begin to even out the numbers around here. Amen.”

Cat endeavored to keep a straight face as she prayed but collapsed back onto the bed in a fit of giggles immediately after. Una also laughed until her sides hurt, tears streaming down her cheeks as she gasped for breath. Then Joan snorted, which only made them all laugh harder.

Slowly, the chamber door opened again, and Ewan’s head poked around it. He peered toward the bed, his eyes landing on Una. The room fell silent.

He cleared his throat. “Beg pardon, ladies. But I wonder if I might have a moment alone with my”—he cleared his throat again—“with Una.”

Joan looked at Una, her eyebrows lifted. Cat sat up abruptly, her hair a tangled halo around her shoulders. Una nodded to them both, and Joan hopped off the bed and sauntered over to the doorway.

She dropped a curtsy and breezed past him, saying, “Beg pardon, m’laird,” as she knocked into him with her shoulder.

Cat climbed off the bed with far less grace and stomped over to her brother. She reached for him as if to embrace him and, when he bent his tall form down towards her, smacked him hard against the back of the head.

“Damnit, Cat! That hurt!” he said, rubbing his skull.

“Good,” she said tartly before turning to look over her shoulder at Una. “I believe I get that one for free. No penance, aye?”

“I’d say our Lady will give you that one, Cat,” Una said seriously, suppressing a smile.

With that, Cat breezed past Ewan, also knocking him with her good shoulder as Joan had done. Una had to double her efforts to stifle her smile when she saw the look on Ewan’s face.

“I have lost all respect from the women in my house, it seems, if Joan and Catriona are any indication. Best nae go find Fenella and Fiona, or they might gut me on the spot.”

“Cat had a special, holy dispensation. And Joan was prepared to be a father to this babe in your absence so I dinnae think ye can press her either. But you’re right about Fenella. Best stay away from her for a while. She doesnae care much for cowards.”

His face fell. “I deserve that.”

“I was comforted to know that Joan would stand by me, though.”

He moved toward her and, in the light from the hearth, she could see his face. It looked drawn, his eyes rimmed in red. He’d been crying, and the knowledge of that softened her. Part of her was still furious for his earlier escape, but a larger part of her knew that he had punished himself that last hour more than anyone else ever could. But she wasn’t quite ready to forgive him yet.