The Secret

Chapter 14

Her father reacted as though a blade had just been thrust deep into his chest. He lunged forward and upward, until he was half out of his chair, then fell back against the cushions. He looked furious and disbelieving. He shook his head in denial. She slowly nodded.

"How did you get this ring?"

"From my mother. She stole it from you."

"Give me your mother's name," he commanded in a voice thick with emotion.

There wasn't a hint of emotion in Judith's voice when she answered him.

Douglas rushed forward to stand on Judith's right. Their father looked from one to the other and then back again. The similarities were startlingly evident to him now. He finally believed it was possible. "Dear God…"

"Father, have you taken ill?"

The laird didn't answer his son. Iain walked forward to stand on Judith's left side. His arm brushed hers. She didn't know if he was looking at her or not. She was afraid to look at him, knowing he would be furious with her by now.

"What in God's name is the matter with you, Father?" Douglas asked. "You look as though you've just seen the Devil."

It was apparent Douglas hadn't heard her whispered confession. Since Iain continued to remain silent, she believed he hadn't heard, either.

Judith was determined to strike a bargain with her father. In exchange for her silence about his first wife, he would let Iain and the others go home. If he wanted to marry again, so be it. She wouldn't interfere…

"Why didn't you want me?"

She flinched inside. She hadn't meant to ask him that question. What did she care if he wanted her or not? And Lord, she'd sounded like a lost little girl.

"I didn't know," he answered. He threaded his fingers through his hair in agitation. "I vowed never to return to England. She knew I wouldn't break my pledge. After she died, I never gave her another thought. I put the past. behind me."

Judith moved forward until she was touching the table. She leaned even closer then and whispered. "She isn't dead."

"Good God…"

"If you want to marry again, I won't tell Father Laggan you already have a wife. I won't care," she added with a nod. "But you must let the Maitlands go."

She didn't wait for his promise, but backed up until she'd put some distance between them.

Laird Maclean didn't think he could take any more surprises. He was still staggered by the truths he'd just been handed.

"Father, what is going on?"

The laird tried to shake himself out of his stupor. He turned to look at his son. "You have a sister," he said, his voice hoarse with emotion.

"I do?"

"Aye."

"Where?"

"She's standing right beside you."

Douglas turned to stare at Judith. She stared back.

It took her brother a long while to accept. He didn't look very happy with the news. In truth, he looked appalled. "I don't want you in my bed," he stammered out. He was actually able to smile a little then. "No wonder you were so repelled when I tried to-"

He didn't continue, for he'd only just noticed Iain was watching him. Iain's voice was deadly soft when he asked, "Exactly what did you try to do, Douglas?"

Her brother lost his smile. "I didn't know she was your wife, Maitland," he excused. "And I sure as certain didn't know she was my sister when I tried to kiss her."

Iain didn't care what excuses were given. He reached behind Judith's shoulders, grabbed Douglas by the nape of his neck, and sent him flying backward with a flick of his wrist.

Judith's father didn't show any reaction to his son sprawled out on the floor in front of him. His attention remained on his daughter. "I'm pleased you don't look like her."

She didn't respond to that comment.

Her father let out a long sigh. "Did she turn your heart against me, then?" he asked.

Judith was surprised by the question. She shook her head. "I was told my father died defending England from infidels. He was supposed to have been a baron."

"So you lived with her all the while you were growing up?"

"No," she answered. "The first four years I lived with Aunt Millicent and Uncle Herbert. Millicent's my mother's sister," she added.

"Why didn't you live with your mother?"

"She couldn't stand the sight of me. For a long time I believed it was because I reminded her of the man she loved. When I was eleven years old, I found out the truth. She hated me because I was part of you."

"And when you found out the truth?"

"I was told you banished my mother, that you knew she was carrying me, and you didn't want either one of us."

"Lies," he whispered with a shake of his head. "I never knew about you. As God is my witness, I never knew."

She didn't show any outward reaction to his fervent speech. "If you'll only let us go home," she said again. "I won't tell the priest you already have a wife."

Her father shook his head. "Nay, I won't be getting wed again. I'm too old to wave such a sin in God's face. I'm content to let things stay the way they are."

He turned his attention to Iain then. "Did you know I was Judith's father when you married her?"

"Yes."

Judith let out a little gasp. She was quick to recover from her surprise. Iain was obviously lying to the laird and she would find out his reasons later, when they were alone. If he ever spoke to her again, she qualified. She still couldn't make herself look up at him. She wanted to weep with shame because she hadn't trusted him enough to tell him the truth.

"Then why did you seek an alliance with the Dunbars?" Maclean asked. "Or did the bastard lie to me?"

"The Dunbars approached us first," Iain explained. "I met their laird on neutral ground to discuss the possibility of an alliance, but that was before I knew my wife was your daughter."

"And when you were certain?"

Iain shrugged. "By then I knew what the Dunbars' game was. They couldn't be trusted. And so I sent my envoy, Ramsey, to you."

"Did you marry my daughter because I was her father?"

"Yes."

The laird nodded, satisfied with Iain's honesty. "Do you treat her well?"

Iain didn't answer. Judith thought she was probably supposed to. "He treats me very well. I wouldn't stay with him if he didn't."

Her father smiled. "You've got spirit. That pleases me."

She didn't thank him for his compliment. Not five minutes before, he'd told her her boldness displeased him. He was contradicting himself, and none of his compliments were ever going to ease her pain.

She noticed her father's eyes were getting misty. She couldn't imagine why.

"When did you find out about me?" Douglas asked. "Have you known since you were eleven that you had an older brother?"

Judith's composure almost snapped then and there. Her mother's treachery suddenly overwhelmed her. "I didn't know about you… until today," she whispered. "She never told anyone."

Douglas shrugged, trying to act as though he really didn't care, but Judith could see his vulnerability. She touched his arm in a bid to comfort him. "Be thankful, Douglas, that she did leave you here. You were more fortunate."

Douglas was moved by her apparent concern for his feelings. He cleared his throat in a bid to ease the sudden tightness there, then said, "I would have watched out for you the way older brothers should. I would have, Judith."

She nodded and was about to tell her brother she believed he would have protected her, but her father turned her attention.

"I want you to stay here with me and Douglas for a time."

"No." Iain snapped out that denial. "Judith, go outside and wait for me. I have something to discuss with your father."

She didn't hesitate. She turned around and started to walk away. Laird Maclean watched her for a moment, then hastily stood up. His gaze was directed on her back.

"I would never break my promise to go back to England," he called out. "I certainly wouldn't have gone back for my wife," he added in a louder voice.

Judith continued to walk away from her father. She was trembling so much now, she was worried her legs would give out on her. If she could just get outside…

"I wouldn't go back for land, or title, or all the gold England had to give."

She was halfway across the way when he bellowed, "Judith Maitland!"

She stopped and slowly turned around. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She was oblivious to them. Her hands were gripped tightly together so no one would see how they shook.

"I would have broken my promise for a daughter," her father shouted. "Oh, yes, I would have gone back into England for you."

She took a deep breath, then slowly nodded. She desperately wanted to believe him, but knew she needed time, and distance, to separate all the lies from the truth.

Graham stood near the bottom of the steps leading up to the entrance. Two guards stood as sentries behind him. Her gaze met the elder's. The look on Graham's face took her breath away, his fury and his disdain for her so visible, she felt as though he'd just spat on her.

She was certain she was going to be sick. She ran outside, crossed the courtyard and continued on toward the privacy of the trees. She kept running until she was out of breath. Then she collapsed on the ground and broke into heart-wrenching sobs.

Judith was so confused inside. Had her father told her the truth? If he had known about her, would he have claimed her? Would he have been able to love her?

Oh God, the lost years, the lies, the loneliness. And now it was too late. She had told who she was, and

Graham had let her know, with just one hateful look, that she had lost everything. She was an outsider again.

"Iain," she sobbed.

Had she lost him, too?

Iain knew Judith needed him now. He believed he'd hurt her with his admission he'd married her because she was a Maclean. He wanted to go to her, of course, but his initial concern was dealing with her father. In his mind, Judith's safety came before her feelings.

"You used my daughter to get to me, didn't you?" Laird Maclean remarked. He tried to sound furious, but failed in his attempt. He let out a sigh. " 'Tis the truth I probably would have done the same if I'd been in your position."

Iain's discipline vanished. He reached across the table, grabbed Judith's father by his shoulders and lifted him half out of his chair. Douglas ran forward to intervene on his father's behalf. Iain sent him flying backward again with the back of his fist.

"I married Judith to protect her from you, you bastard," he roared. He shoved Maclean back into his chair. "Now you and I are going to come to some sort of understanding, or I swear to God, I'll kill you."

The Maclean laird raised his hand to stop his men from attacking Iain. "Everyone out," he commanded in a bellow. "This matter is between the Maitland laird and me. Douglas, you may stay."

"Patrick stays, too," Iain ordered.

"I'm not leaving," Graham shouted.

"As you wish," Laird Maclean agreed, his tone weary now. He waited until his soldiers had taken their leave, then stood up to face Iain. "Why did you believe you needed to protect her from me? I'm her father."

"You know damned good and well why," Iain replied. "You would have married her to one of the Dunbars. I couldn't allow that."

Laird Maclean didn't argue over that possibility for he knew it to be true. He probably would have married her to one of the Dunbars in order to make the alliance more binding. "I would have gained her permission first," he muttered. He leaned back in his chair. "Dear God, this is difficult to take in. I have a daughter."

"And a wife," Iain reminded him.

Maclean's face darkened. "Yes, a wife," he agreed. "The woman left me," he explained. "Oh, it was under the guise of returning to England to see her ailing brother, but I knew she didn't have any intention of ever coming back. I was happy to be rid of her. I felt like celebrating when I heard she'd died. If that be a sin, so be it. I've never known a woman like her," he added. "Not before, not after. She didn't have a conscience. She lived for self-pleasure, nothing more. She was so cruel to her son, I spent most of my days protecting the boy from his own mother."

"Judith didn't have anyone to protect her."

"I realize that," Maclean replied. He suddenly looked like a very old man. "She said she lived with the aunt the first four years. What happened then? Did she live with her mother?"

"Yes."

"What about my wife's brother? The drunk?" Maclean asked.

"He lived with them, to. The aunt and uncle tried to look out for Judith. She lived with them six months of each year, and lived in Hell the other months."

"A peculiar arrangement," Maclean said. He shook his head. "I can never make it up to her. I can never-" His voice broke. He pretended to cough, then said, "You'll have your alliance, Iain, if you're still wanting it. The Dunbars will rebel, of course, but we can keep them under control and behaving themselves, locked between us as they are. I have only one request to make."

"What is it?"

"I want Judith to stay here for a spell. I would like to get to know her."

Iain was already shaking his head before Maclean had finished his plea. "My wife stays with me."

"Will you allow her to come here every now and again?"

"Only Judith can make that decision," Iain countered.

"I wouldn't force her."

"But you won't prevent her?"

"No," Iain conceded. "If she wishes to see you again, I'll bring her to you."

"Iain Maitland, you're making promises without authority," Graham announced in a near shout. "The council will decide any alliances, not you."

Iain turned around to look at Graham. "We will discuss this later," he commanded.

"You should be thankful my daughter spoke up when she did," Maclean bellowed. He stood up, braced his hands on the tabletop, and leaned forward. "She saved your sorry hide, Graham. I've been itching to tear you apart for a good number of years. I still might, if I hear you aren't treating Judith proper."

He paused to glare at his enemy. "Oh, I saw the expression on your face when you heard she was a Maclean. It didn't sit well, did it? It must chafe you considerably to know your laird's married to my daughter. No matter," Maclean continued in a roar. "You hurt Judith, and by God, I'll kill you with my bare hands."

"Father, what if Judith wants to stay here with us?" Douglas asked. "She may not want to go home with Iain. You should put the question to her."

Iain wasn't impressed with Douglas's burst of brotherly concern. "She goes with me."

Douglas didn't want to give up. "Will you let him take her if she doesn't want to go?"

"Let him?" Maclean found his first smile. "It appears Iain's going to do whatever he damned well wants to do." He turned his attention Iain. "You might have started out with a clever plan in mind, but you fell in love with her somewhere along the way, didn't you?"

Iain refused to answer him. Douglas wouldn't let it go. "Do you love Judith?"

Iain let out a sigh. Judith's brother was turning out to be one hell of a nuisance. "Do you honestly believe I would marry a Maclean if I didn't love her?"

Laird Maclean let out a snort of laughter. "Welcome to the family, son."

Iain found Judith leaning against a tree on the side of the trail a fair distance away from the keep. The moonlight was bright enough for him to see how pale she was.

"Judith, it's time to go home."

"Yes, of course."

She didn't move. He walked closer. When she looked up at him, he realized she'd been crying. "Are you all right?" he asked, concern obvious in his voice. "I know it was difficult for you."

Fresh tears filled her eyes. "Was he lying to me or was he telling me the truth? There have been so many lies in the past, I can't seem to find the truth anymore. It really doesn't matter, though, does it? Knowing that my father would have claimed me can't make up for the lost years."

"I think it matters to you," Iain countered. "And I believe he was telling the truth. If he'd known, he would have gone to England to get you."

She pulled away from the tree and straightened her shoulders. "I know you must be furious with me. I should have told you who my father was."

"Judith-"

She interrupted him. "I was afraid you wouldn't want me if you knew the truth." It finally dawned on her that Iain wasn't angry. "Why aren't you upset? The news must have staggered you. And why did you lie to my father?"

"When did I lie?"

"When you told him you knew I was his daughter."

"I didn't lie. I knew before I married you."

"You couldn't have known," she cried out.

"We'll talk about this later," he announced. "After we get home."

She shook her head. She wanted to talk about it now. She felt as though her entire world had just been destroyed. "If you knew… why did you marry me?"

He reached for her. She backed away. "Judith, I'm not going to talk about this now."

God, he sounded so calm, so bloody reasonable. "You used me."

"I protected you."

"You wanted the alliance. That's the only reason you married me. I thought, oh God, I thought because you didn't have anything to gain, that you must really just want me, that you-" Her voice broke on a sob. She was so sickened by the truth, she almost doubled over. She took another step back. Her own naivety made her even more furious with herself. "I've been such a fool," she cried out. "I really thought I could belong here. I believed I would be accepted and it wouldn't matter who my mother was or who my father-"

She took a deep breath to try to control herself. "I have no one to blame but myself for thinking such foolish thoughts. I can never be accepted here. I won't go home with you, Iain. Not now. Not ever."

"You won't raise your voice to me," he ordered in a chillingly soft voice. "But you will go home with me. Now."

He moved like lightning. She didn't even have time to ran. He had both of her hands locked in one of his and was dragging her back down the path before she'd even started to struggle.

Judith quit trying to get away from him when she remembered Frances Catherine. Her friend needed her.

Iain stopped at the edge of the clearing. "Don't you dare weep," he commanded.

"You've broken my heart."

"I'll fix it later."

She almost burst into tears then and there. The crowd of soldiers gathered together in the yard changed her mind. She straightened her shoulders and rushed forward to walk by her husband's side, determined not to disgrace herself in front of the Macleans.

Graham and Patrick had already mounted their horses and were waiting to leave. Iain wouldn't let Judith ride her own horse. He handed the reins of her mount to his brother, then turned and lifted her onto his stallion's back. He swung up behind her, settled her on his lap, and took over the lead.

They passed Graham first. As soon as her gaze met his, he turned away from her. She quickly turned her gaze to her lap. She folded her hands together and desperately tried not to let any of her feelings show on her face. She didn't want any of them to know how much she was hurting inside.

Iain noticed the insult Graham had given his wife. He became so furious, he could barely control himself. Judith had become rigid in his arms. He pulled her closer against his chest and leaned down to whisper into her ear.

"You and I belong to each other, Judith. Nothing else matters. Remember that."

He didn't realize until he'd spoken the words aloud how significant they were. The tightness inside his chest eased away. Loving Judith made him feel he could conquer the world. There wasn't any problem they couldn't face as long as they were together. He remembered how she had told him she wanted to be able to share her worries with him. He wouldn't let her. And he was supposed to share his worries with her as well. Lord, he'd scoffed at the idea, arrogantly believing that he, and he alone, should make every decision, solve every problem, give every command. It was her duty to tell him what was wrong, and he would take care of it.

He couldn't imagine why she loved him. It was a miracle, that. He sure as hell didn't feel worthy. He almost smiled, for worthy or not, her heart belonged to him… and he would never let her go. Never.

It was as though he'd spoken the thought aloud, because Judith suddenly looked up at him. "I won't live with a man who doesn't love me," she whispered.

She expected anger, and secretly hoped for a little remorse. She didn't get either. "All right," he agreed.

She twisted away from him. Iain knew she wasn't in any condition to listen to anything he had to say. Tomorrow would be soon enough for explanations.

"Close your eyes and rest," he ordered. "You're exhausted."

She was about to do just that when she saw a movement in the darkness. She stiffened against him and grabbed hold of his arm. The trees around them seemed to come to life before her eyes. Shadows moved forward into the moonlight.

They were Maitland warriors, and so many in number, she couldn't even begin to count. They were dressed in battle attire. Ramsey led the warriors. He moved forward and waited for Iain to tell him what had happened.

Iain hadn't come alone after all. His men had obviously been waiting for his command to go into battle. Judith was thankful now she had been able to prevent a war, and wondered how many lives would have been lost if she had remained silent.

She didn't speak to her husband again until they were home. She told him she didn't want to share his bed. He picked her up and carried her there. She was too tired to fight him. She fell asleep before he had taken her clothes off her.

He couldn't leave her alone. He held her in his arms, stroking her, nuzzling her, kissing her, and in the early predawn hours he made love to her.

She was too sleepy to protest at first, and then too consumed by his passion to make him stop. His mouth was so wonderfully hot against her own. His hands stroked her inner thighs, gently forcing them apart. His fingers thrust inside her wet heat just as his tongue invaded her mouth. The erotic love play made her whimper with pleasure. She moved restlessly against him. It was all the permission he needed. He moved between her thighs and drove deep into her. She arched up against him and wrapped her arms around his neck to bring him closer. His thrusts were slow, measured, deliberate. The sweet torment drove her wild. She tightened her legs around him and lifted her hips more forcefully to make him quicken his pace.

They found fulfillment together. He growled deep in his throat and collapsed against her. She held him tight while the waves of ecstasy swept over her, and then wept against his shoulder.

Once she started crying, she couldn't seem to stop. He rolled to his side, taking her with him, and whispered soothing words until she finally relaxed against him and he knew she'd fallen asleep again. He closed his eyes, his own surrender complete, and did the same.

The following morning Iain left the chamber a good hour before Judith awakened. The housekeeper came up the stairs to fetch her, knocked softly on the door and called her name.

Judith had just finished getting dressed. She wore her pale pink gown. At her bidding, Helen came rushing into the chamber. She took one look at Judith's clothing and came to an abrupt stop. "You're not wearing our plaid," she blurted out.

"No," Judith answered without giving further explanation. "What is it you wanted to speak to me about?"

"The elders…"

"Yes?" Judith asked when Helen didn't go on.

"They're waiting in the hall to speak to you. Is it true, then? Is your father…"

Helen couldn't seem to get the name out. Judith took mercy on her. "Laird Maclean is my father."

"Don't go downstairs," Helen cried out. She started wringing her hands together in agitation. "You look terribly pale to me. Get back into bed. I'll tell them you're ill."

Judith shook her head. "I can't hide up here," she said. She started toward the door, then paused. "Isn't the council breaking one of their sacred rules by speaking directly to me in an official capacity?"

Helen nodded. "They're probably too angry to think about their rules now. Besides, they did allow one other woman to stand before them. Your Frances Catherine. It was the talk around here for weeks on end."

Judith smiled. "Frances Catherine told me they tried to make her change her mind about sending for me. They probably want to wring her neck now. Look at all the trouble I've caused."

Helen shook her head. "You haven't caused any trouble."

Judith patted her arm. "Is my husband waiting for me with the elders?"

Helen shook her head again. It was an effort for her to get her emotions under control. Her voice trembled when she answered her mistress. "He's on his way back from his brother's home. Graham sent a messenger down the hill to get him. They won't send you away, will they?"

"My father's their enemy," Judith reminded the woman. "I can't imagine they would want me to stay here."

"But your husband's our laird," Helen whispered. "Surely…"

Judith didn't want to talk about Iain, Helen was getting terribly upset. Tears were spilling down her cheeks. Judith was sorry she was the cause of her distress, but she didn't know how to ease her suffering. She couldn't tell Helen everything was going to be all right, for that would be a ridiculous lie.

"I'll survive this," she said. "And so shall you." She forced a smile, pinched her cheeks to give them some color, and then walked out of the chamber.

Iain walked inside just as she started down the stairs. He looked relieved to see her. She didn't know what to make of that.

"I would like to speak to you, Iain," she called out. "I have something I want to say to you."

"Not now, Judith," he told her. "There isn't time."

"I want you to make time," she insisted,

"Frances Catherine needs you, wife."

Her entire demeanor changed. She ran the rest of the way down the stairs. "Is it the baby?"

Iain nodded. "Helen?" Judith called out.

"I heard, milady. I'll just gather a few things and follow you down."

Judith had taken hold of Iain's hand. She realized what she'd done and tried to let go. He wouldn't let her. He turned and opened the door for her, then pulled her outside.

The elders were all standing in a group in front of the table by the hearth. Iain acted as though they weren't even there.

"How long has she been having pains?" Judith asked.

"Patrick didn't say. He's so rattled, he can barely speak a coherent word."

Iain hadn't exaggerated. Frances Catherine's husband was standing in the center of the doorway. "She wants me to fetch the priest," he blurted out as soon as they came into view. "Dear God, this is all my fault."

Judith didn't know what to say to that. Iain shook his head. "Get hold of yourself, Patrick," he ordered. "You won't do her any good at all if you fall apart."

"It's all my fault, I tell you," Patrick repeated in an anguished whisper.

"Hell," Iain muttered. "Of course it's your fault. You took her to your bed-"

"It isn't that," Patrick interrupted.

"Then what is it?" Iain asked when his brother didn't explain.

"I started her laboring. We were talking about Judith's father, and she told me she'd known for years. I became a little angry she hadn't told me and I think I raised my voice to her."

Patrick was inadvertently blocking Judith from entering the cottage while he confessed his sin to his brother. Judith finally shoved him out of her way and ran inside.

She came to a quick stop when she spotted Frances Catherine. Her friend was sitting at the table, brushing her hair. She looked terribly calm. She was humming too.

Frances Catherine smiled at her, then motioned for her to shut the door.

"Hand me that ribbon," Frances Catherine asked. "The pink one by the bed, if you please."

Judith did as her friend requested. She realized her hands were shaking. "How are you feeling, Frances Catherine?" she asked in a worried whisper.

"Just fine, thank you."

Judith stared at her friend a long minute. "Are you having pains now or are you just pretending?"

"If I wasn't, I would," Frances Catherine answered.

Judith walked over to the table and fell into the chair across from her friend. She took a deep breath in an effort to calm her racing heart, then asked her what in God's name she'd meant by that illogical answer.

Frances Catherine was happy to explain. "I am having pains," she said. "But if I wasn't, I would pretend I was just to rile Patrick. I'm leaving him, Judith. No man's going to shout at me, not even my husband. You may help me pack my belongings."

Judith burst into laughter. "Would you like to leave now or after the baby's born?"

Her friend smiled. "After," she said. "I'm not at all afraid," she added in a whisper, turning the topic. "Isn't that peculiar? I've been afraid all during the months of carrying, but now I'm not afraid at all."

"Then why did you call for a priest?"

"To give Patrick something to do."

Judith didn't believe that nonsense. "You wanted to scare Patrick, didn't you?"

"That, too," Frances Catherine conceded.

"You've got a mean streak hidden inside you, Frances Catherine," Judith said. "You've deliberately terrified your husband. Now call him inside and beg his forgiveness."

"I will," her friend promised. "Was it terrible for you?"

She'd switched topics so quickly, Judith took a minute to react "My father's a handsome man," she remarked.

"Did you spit in his eye?"

"No."

"Tell me what happened," her friend demanded.

Judith smiled. "I'm not telling you anything until you speak to your husband. Can't you hear him carrying on outside? Shame on you, Frances Catherine."

A sudden pain gripped her friend. She dropped her brush and took hold of Judith's hand. She was panting by the time the contraction faded away. Judith kept mental count of the seconds that passed during the pain.

"That one was a little stronger than the others," Frances Catherine whispered. "They're still a long time apart, though. Mop my brow, Judith, and then tell Patrick to come inside. I'm ready to hear his apology."

Judith hurried to do just that. She waited outside so that the couple could have some privacy. Iain was sitting on the rock ledge, watching her.

"I've never seen my brother so ill-disciplined," he remarked.

"He loves his wife," she replied. "He's afraid for her."

Iain shrugged. "I love you, but I'm sure as hell not going to carry on the way Patrick is when you give me my son or daughter."

He'd said the words so casually, so matter-of-factly, she was caught off guard. "What did you just say?"

He let her see his exasperation. "I said I wasn't going to lose my control the way Patrick-"

"Before," she interrupted. "You said you loved me. You acted like you meant it."

"I always mean what I say," he told her. "You know that. Judith, how long do you think this birthing is going to take?"

She ignored his question. "You don't love me," she announced in an emphatic tone of voice. "I was just the sacrifice you had to make in order to get your alliance." She didn't give him time to answer her. "The ring gave me away, didn't it? It's identical to the one Douglas wears and you recognized it."

"The ring was familiar to me, but it took me a long time to remember where I'd seen it."

"Exactly when did you remember?"

"When we were at the cemetery," he told her. "Then Patrick heard you ask his wife what she thought I would do if I found out Maclean was your father. He told me, of course, but I already knew."

She shook her head. "I don't understand," she admitted. "If he knew, why did he get so angry with Frances Catherine?"

"He was angry because she hadn't confided in him."

"And so, as soon as you found out who my father was, you married me."

"Damn right," he agreed. He stood up and pulled her into his arms. "Without flowers," he whispered. "I'm sorry about that. Your safety came first. I didn't have time to make it proper for you."

Dear God, how she wanted to believe him. "You didn't have to marry me just to keep me safe."

"Yes, I did," he answered. "It was only a matter of time before one of the elders spotted the damn ring. They would have recognized it."

"I was going to throw it away," she boasted.

He let out a sigh. "You wouldn't have," he said. "You're too tenderhearted to destroy the only link you had to the man who fathered you."

She decided not to argue that possibility with him. "You don't like him, do you?"

"Your father?"

"Yes."

"Hell, no, I don't like him," he replied. "He's a real bastard," he added. "But he's also your father, and since I already knew I was going to keep you, I sent Ramsey to him to talk about an alliance. It would have been more practical to unite with the Dunbars. Their land borders ours, after all, but the Maclean laird is your father and you had a right to eventually claim him… if you wanted to, Judith."

"But you don't trust the Macleans, do you?"

"No," he answered. "As to that, I don't trust the Dunbars much, either."

"Do you like Douglas?"

"Not particularly."

She found his honesty refreshing. "You don't like anyone, do you?"

His smile was filled with tenderness. "I like you."

He always made her breathless when he looked at her like that. Judith had to force herself to concentrate on what they were talking about. She turned her gaze to his chest. "Why was it necessary to form an alliance with either clan? You've always isolated yourselves in the past."

"The Dunbar laird is old, tired, yet he didn't want to pass his duties on to a younger warrior. When I heard he was negotiating with Maclean, I tried to interfere before the union could be formed. The Dunbars added to the Macleans would make them invincible against us. It was a hell of a worry."

"Why didn't you explain this to me?"

"I just did."

He was hedging and they both knew it. "Why didn't you explain before?" she prodded.

"It was difficult for me," he finally admitted. "I've never discussed my concerns with anyone but Patrick before."

"Not even Graham?"

"No."

She pulled away from him and looked up into his eyes. "What made you change your mind?"

"You," he answered. "And Frances Catherine."

"I don't understand."

He took hold of her hand, sat her down on the stone ledge and sat beside her. "In the beginning, I didn't understand this bond between the two of you. You seemed to trust each other completely."

"We do trust each other completely," she told him.

He nodded. "She never told anyone who your father was, and you never worried she would."

Iain seemed to be working something out in his mind. His voice was slow, hesitant. "You in effect gave her a weapon to use against you. A man would never do such a thing."

"Some would."

"I wouldn't," he admitted. "And until I met you, I didn't believe such trust existed."

Abruptly, he stood up. He clasped his hands behind his back and turned to face her. "You've shown me you can give your friend your complete trust. I want the same, Judith. You've told me you trust me. Yet if you trusted me with all your heart, completely, you would accept without question that when I tell you I love you, I mean it. Only then will your uncertainty, your fear, your hurt go away."

Her head was bowed low. She realized he was speaking the truth. "I didn't trust you enough to tell you who my father was," she admitted in a whisper. "But I would have gotten around to it… someday. I was afraid you wouldn't want me any longer if you knew."

"If you'd trusted me enough…"

She nodded. "I did try, right before the wedding ceremony… Why didn't you let me tell you then?"

"I was desperate to protect you, and the only way I knew how was to make you my wife. The council wouldn't have given the matter a second thought. If they'd learned Maclean was your father, they would have used you to try to destroy him."

"If I'd only left the ring back in England, none of this-"

He didn't let her finish. "Secrets have a way of being found out," he told her. "Too many people knew the truth. Your relatives in England might have gone to the Macleans to get their support in order to get you back." He shrugged. "They still might." He didn't seem overly worried about that possibility.

"Iain, I don't think I can stay here. The way Graham looked at me when he found out who my father was… He'll never accept me as a Maitland now. I'll be an outsider again. No, I can't stay here."

"All right."

His immediate agreement confused her. She thought he would at least ask her to try, and she would then be very noble and give her agreement. How could he confess his love for her and agree to let her leave?

Judith wasn't given time to make him explain. Patrick opened the door and shouted her name.

She went back inside and found Frances Catherine beaming with pleasure. Judith assumed her friend's husband had been properly contrite.

Frances Catherine didn't feel the ache in her lower back quite as much when she was walking, and so she slowly paced back and forth in front of the hearth while Judith saw to the necessary preparations.

Her friend had a hundred questions to ask about the Macleans. Judith couldn't answer any of them. When she was finally allowed to speak a full sentence without being interrupted, she told her friend about Douglas.

"I have a brother. He's exactly five years older," Judith said. "My mother left him and never said a word to anyone."

Frances Catherine almost toppled over. She became irate on Judith's behalf. "That bloody bitch," she shouted.

She was about to bellow another dark opinion of Judith's mother when she heard her husband apologizing for her outside the window. She slapped her hand over her mouth to keep her laughter contained.

"Your mother's a monster," she whispered. "If there's any justice in this world, she'll get what's coming to her."

Judith didn't believe that was true, but she wasn't about to argue with her friend now. "Perhaps," she allowed.

"Agnes got what was coming to her," Frances Catherine announced with a nod.

"Why, what happened to her?" Judith asked.

Frances Catherine seemed not to hear her. "Aye, she did. She was a fool to spread such sinful rumors about you and think our laird wouldn't hear them."

"Iain heard?" Judith asked.

"He did," Frances Catherine said. She paused to concentrate on the pain that gripped her, holding on to the edge of the mantel until it had passed. Then she mopped her brow with a linen square. "Lord, that one was a bit stronger than the last."

"It lasted longer, too," Judith told her.

Frances Catherine nodded. "Now, where was I? Oh yes, Agnes."

"Exactly what did Iain hear?"

"That you were carrying his child before he wed you."

"Dear God, he must have been furious…"

"Oh, he was that, all right," Frances Catherine agreed. "You and Patrick and Graham had taken off to go fishing, and Iain came back from his duties about two hours' later. He looked in on me to make certain I wasn't needing anything. That was thoughtful of him, wasn't it? Iain's wanned considerably since he married you, Judith. He never used-"

"Frances Catherine, you're digressing," Judith interrupted. "What did he do about Agnes?"

"I was getting to that," her friend said. "Iain went along up to the keep. Someone must have stopped him to tell him. Or perhaps one of the elders mentioned-"

"I don't care how he heard," Judith interrupted again. "I want to know what he did about it. You're making me daft, Frances Catherine, skirting around and around the way you are."

Frances Catherine smiled. "It's taken your mind off the birthing, hasn't it?"

Judith nodded. Then she begged her friend to finish her explanation.

Frances Catherine was happy to oblige. "He went directly to Agnes's cottage. Brodick told me so. He stopped by, too, just to make certain I was all right. I think Patrick nagged him into looking in on me. Anyway, another hour passed, and I went outside to take in some fresh air when I saw Agnes and her daughter, Cecilia, all packed up and marching down the hill. Brodick told me they were leaving Maitland land. They won't be back, either, Judith."

"Where will they go?"

"To Agnes's cousins," Frances Catherine explained. "They had an escort of soldiers riding with them."

"Iain never said a word to me." Judith mulled that fact over for several minutes while Frances Catherine resumed her pacing.

Helen knocked on the door, interrupting the private discussion. "We'll talk about this later," Frances Catherine whispered.

Judith nodded. She helped Helen carry in a giant pile of linens and add them to the others on the table. Winslow was right behind the housekeeper. He carried in the birthing stool. Frances Catherine promptly invited the warrior to stay for the nooning meal. Winslow was too surprised by the invitation to do more than shake his head.

Patrick wasn't in any condition to see to the chore of hanging the plaid across the beam. Winslow took care of the duty. Frances Catherine tried to serve him a beverage when he was finished.

He refused the wine and started out the doorway. He suddenly stopped and turned around again. "My wife is waiting in the courtyard," he said. "She wants to help. If you don't want her…"

"Please send her inside," Judith requested. "We'll be happy for her company, won't we, Frances Catherine?"

Her friend brightened up. "Oh, yes," she agreed. "She can have her nooning meal with us."

Helen paused in her task of folding back the bedding to look up. "Are you really hungry, lass? I could bring down some soup I made late yesterday. It's been simmering all through the night."

"Yes, thank you," Frances Catherine answered. "I'm not at all hungry, though."

"Then why-" Judith began.

"When it's time for supper, we have to have our supper," Frances Catherine insisted. "Everything has to be… usual. All right, Judith?"

"Yes, of course," Judith answered.

Isabelle came rushing inside, drawing everyone's attention. She shut the door behind her and hurried over to Frances Catherine. She took hold of her hand. While Judith stood by, Isabelle repeated all the words of encouragement Judith had given her when she'd begun her laboring. She talked about the miracle about to take place, added that yes, it was messy, but still beautiful, and Frances Catherine must remember to feel the joy in the precious duty of giving a new life to the world.

A warm feeling of contentment filled Judith. She had made a difference in someone's life. She knew she would have to leave this place, and soon, if the council had their way, but while she'd lived here, she had made an impact on someone else's life. At least one other woman besides Frances Catherine would remember her.

Helen hurried out of the cottage to fetch the soup. Isabella had left her son in Winslow's aunt's care, and she left to tell her she'd be staying with Frances Catherine until after her baby was born.

Frances Catherine waited until the door closed behind the two women, then turned to Judith. "Are you worried about me?"

"Perhaps just a little," Judith admitted.

"Why did you have the peculiar look on your face? What were you thinking about when Isabelle was talking to me?"

Judith smiled. Frances Catherine rarely let anything get past her. "I was realizing that I made a little difference in Isabella's life. I helped her bring her son into the world. She won't forget that. The others will forget me, but she won't."

"No, she won't forget," Frances Catherine agreed. She turned the topic then. "Patrick says Iain won't tell him what he's going to do. My husband's convinced the council will sanction both of you. He said that when he told his brother that opinion, Iain just smiled and shook his head."

Judith shrugged. "I won't stay here, no matter what happens. You understand why, don't you? I can't be an outsider again."

"Judith, all the women here seem to feel like outsiders," Frances Catherine argued.

The door burst open. "Well?" Patrick bellowed from the entrance.

"Well, what, husband?"

"Frances Catherine, why is this taking so long?"

"Patrick, you really need to get hold of yourself," Judith ordered. "This isn't going to happen any time soon."

Frances Catherine hurried over to her husband. "I'm sorry this is so upsetting to you, but nothing's happening. I can't make the baby hurry, Patrick."

"Judith, can't you do something?" Patrick demanded.

"Your wife is going to rest now," Judith announced. "We have to be patient."

Patrick let out a sigh. "Winslow says you're twice the size Isabelle was," he remarked with a frown.

Frances Catherine didn't take exception to that comment. She knew her husband was looking for something more to worry about. "I ate twice as much," she told him. "Where did Iain go?"

Patrick found his first smile. "I was driving him daft. He's training with his men."

"You should go and help him," Frances Catherine suggested. "I'll send someone to find you when the time draws near."

Patrick reluctantly agreed to leave. He kept coming back, however, and by nightfall he was camped out on the doorstep.

Isabelle's aunt came to fetch her twice during the long day to feed her infant son, and Helen left once to make certain the elders had a proper dinner and that her son Andrew was being looked after.

Frances Catherine's contractions continued to be inconsistent until late afternoon. They came on with a vengeance then, but Frances Catherine was more than ready to take on the pain.

By midnight she was screaming in agony. She was using the birthing chair and bearing down with all her might during each long, excruciating contraction. Helen used the flat of her hands to push down on Frances Catherine's stomach, but her efforts only intensified the pain. The baby wasn't cooperating.

Something was wrong and everyone knew it. The pains were coming one on top of another, and she should have given birth by now. Something was blocking the delivery. Helen knelt on the floor in front of Frances Catherine to once again check the baby's progress, and when she'd completed her examination, she leaned back on her heels and looked up at Judith.

The fear in her eyes made Judith's stomach twist. Helen motioned her to the other side of the room.

"No whispering," Frances Catherine screamed. "Tell me what's wrong."

Judith nodded agreement. "Yes, tell both of us," she ordered.

"The baby isn't in the right position for the birthing. I felt a foot."

Another contraction seized Frances Catherine. Judith ordered her to bear down. Her friend screamed her refusal. She collapsed forward, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Oh, God, Judith, I can't do this any longer. I want to die. The pain-"

"Don't you dare give up on me now," Judith interrupted.

"I can't get my hand inside," Helen whispered. "We need the hook, Judith."

"No!"

Frances Catherine's tortured scream of denial snapped Judith's control. She was so terrified inside, she barely knew what she was doing. She tore her hand away from her friend's hard grasp, then rushed over to the water bowl. She scrubbed her hands clean. Maude's instructions were echoing in her mind. She didn't know or care that what the midwife had told her might be based on nonsense either. She would follow her procedures and trust that it mattered.

Helen stood up when Judith knelt down in front of Frances Catherine.

Her friend was hoarse from her screams. In a pitiful whisper she pleaded, "Tell Patrick I'm sorry."

"The hell with that nonsense," Judith shouted. She was heartless to her friend's agony now. "Leave it to you, Frances Catherine, to do everything backward."

"Are you thinking to turn the bairn?" Helen asked. "You'll tear her insides if you try."

Judith shook her head. She kept her attention on Frances Catherine. "Tell me when the next pain begins," she commanded.

Helen tried to hand Judith the bowl of pig's fat. "Cover your hands with this grease," she suggested. "It will make the bairn's coming through easier."

"No," Judith answered. She hadn't washed her hands clean so she could cover them with the vile muck.

Isabelle put her hand on Frances Catherine's stomach. A scant minute later she called out, "The pain's starting now. I feel the tightness building."

Judith started praying. Frances Catherine started screaming. Helen and Isabelle held her steady while Judith worked.

Judith's heart almost dropped into her stomach when she felt the tiny foot protruding from the opening. She was praying out loud now, but no one could hear her. Frances Catherine's screams drowned out every other sound. Judith gently moved the foot down and then went in search of the missing one.

God answered her prayer. She didn't have to reach far to find the missing foot. She slowly eased it down through the opening.

Frances Catherine did the rest. She couldn't stop herself from bearing down. The baby would have landed on her feet if Judith hadn't caught her in time.

The beautiful infant who had given them all such a scare was petite in size, adorably chubby, and had a sprinkle of fire-red hair covering her crown. She was extremely dainty-looking… and had a roar very similar to her mother's.

She was perfect.

So was her sister. She didn't give them any trouble at all. She caught everyone by surprise, though. Frances Catherine was weeping with joy, and relief, too, that the ordeal was finally over. Helen had gone outside to complete the ritual of burying the afterbirth in accordance with the rules of the Church, so that demons wouldn't attack the mother or her infant while they were in such a vulnerable condition, and Isabelle was busy cooing to the baby while she gave her her first bath. Judith was washing Frances Catherine when she suddenly started bearing down again. Judith told her to stop it. She was worried about hemorrhage. Frances Catherine couldn't stop. Her second daughter was born just minutes later. She was polite enough to arrive head first.

The infants were identical in appearance. Neither Isabelle nor Helen could tell them apart. They were careful to wrap the little ones in different colored cloths, the firstborn in white, the second in pink, before covering each with the Maitland plaid.

Frances Catherine hadn't bled overly much, but in Judith's mind the worry wasn't over yet. She was going to make certain the new mother stayed in bed a good two weeks as a precaution against complications.

Frances Catherine was finally settled in her bed. She wore the pretty nightgown Judith had made for her. Her hair was brushed and secured with a pink ribbon. Despite her exhaustion, she looked radiant, but Judith knew it was a struggle for her to stay awake.

Patrick had been kept informed of his wife's condition. He knew she was all right. Helen wouldn't tell him if he had a son or a daughter, however. That precious duty belonged to his wife.

The babies were tucked in Frances Catherine's arms for their presentation to their father. Judith smoothed the covers around the threesome, then turned to fetch the new papa.

"Wait." Frances Catherine whispered so she wouldn't disturb her daughters. Both were sound asleep.

"Yes?" Judith whispered back.

"We… we did all right, didn't we, Judith?"

"Aye, we did," she agreed.

"I want to say-"

"You don't have to say anything," Judith told her. "I understand."

Frances Catherine smiled. "It's your turn now, Judith. Give my daughters a friend to share their secrets with," she ordered.

"We'll see," Judith replied. She motioned for Isabelle and Helen to follow her inside. Patrick almost knocked her over as he passed her. His eagerness to get to his family made Judith smile.

The fresh air felt wonderful. Judith was exhausted, and weak with relief that the duty was finally over. She walked over to the stone wall and sat down. Isabelle followed her.

"It was a worry, wasn't it?" Isabelle whispered. "I was so afraid for Frances Catherine."

"I was, too," Judith admitted.

"She's going to need help," Helen announced. "She's had a time of it and needs plenty of rest now. She can't be taking care of those babies alone."

"Winslow's aunts will help and so will I," Isabelle volunteered. "We could take the mornings."

"I could stay from the supper hour on through the nights," Helen suggested.

Both women looked at Judith, expecting her to agree to take the afternoons. She shook her head. "We'll have to find someone to fill in," she said. "I can't promise to help because I'm not at all certain how much longer I'll be staying here."

"What in heaven's name are you talking about?" Isabelle asked, clearly astonished by Judith's remarks.

"I'll explain tomorrow," Judith promised. "Now I want to talk about Frances Catherine. I want both of you to promise me you'll take care of her. She mustn't be allowed out of bed. She isn't out of danger yet."

Judith could hear the desperation in her own voice. She couldn't control that. Exhaustion was making her more emotional, she supposed.

Neither Isabelle nor Helen argued with her. Judith was thankful for their silence. Helen let out a weary sigh. The sadness she saw on her mistress's face tore at her heart.

She decided to try to lighten the conversation. "Were you two as surprised as I was when Frances Catherine started in laboring a second time?"

Both Isabelle and Judith smiled.

"You're both looking ready to fall down," Helen said. "Go on home and get some rest. I'll stay the rest of the night."

Neither Isabelle nor Judith had the strength or inclination to move. It was so quiet, so peaceful just sitting there staring out into the darkness.

Judith heard a sound behind her and turned. Iain and Winslow were coming down the hill. She quickly turned around again and tried to straighten her appearance. She brushed her hair back over her shoulders, pinched her cheeks for color, and tried to smooth the wrinkles out of her gown.

Isabelle watched her. "You still look like hell," she whispered with a giggle.

Judith was astonished by the remark. Isabelle was such a sweet, soft-spoken woman. Judith didn't know she had it in her to tease. She burst into laughter. "So do you," she whispered back.

They stood up at the same time to greet their husbands, then leaned into each other, trying to force the other to take all the weight.

"I don't care what I look like," Isabelle confessed. "Winslow wants to… you know, and I don't think I should this soon. It's only been seven weeks. I think we should wait seven more… but some nights, I do want to…"

Judith wasn't certain she understood what Isabelle was stammering on and on about. She saw her blush and finally caught on. "Maude told me it's usual to wait six weeks before… sleeping with your husband."

Isabelle immediately tried to straighten her appear ance. Judith found her action vastly amusing. Her laughter started Isabelle laughing, too.

Helen shook her head over their pitiful condition.

Iain and Winslow thought they'd lost their minds. Helen gave them the good news about Frances Catherine. Both warriors were pleased, of course, but their attention remained on their ill-disciplined wives.

"Isabelle, get hold of yourself," Winslow ordered. "You're acting like you're sotted."

She bit her lower lip to stop herself from laughing. "What are you doing up at this time of night?" she asked. "Why aren't you home with our son?"

"My aunt's there," Winslow answered.

"Is she going to stay the full night?"

Winslow thought that was an odd question to ask. "Of course," he answered. "I'll sleep up at the keep."

Isabelle frowned at her husband. He raised an eyebrow over her reaction. "Isabelle, what in God's name is the matter with you?" he asked in exasperation.

Isabelle didn't answer. Judith walked over to her husband. "Why aren't you in bed?"

"I was waiting for you."

She was overwhelmed by his admission. Her eyes immediately filled with tears. Iain put his arm around her shoulders and turned to leave. Helen bid everyone good-night and went back inside the cottage.

Isabelle had inadvertently blocked their exit through the courtyard entrance when she moved forward to confront her husband. She didn't realize Iain and Judith were standing right behind her. "I don't want to sleep with your aunt," she blurted out. "I want to sleep with you. Judith says we only had to wait six weeks, husband, and it's been seven now."

Winslow pulled his wife into his arms and out of the way so Iain and Judith could get past them. He leaned down and whispered into his wife's ear.

Alex, Gowrie, and Ramsey caught Judith's attention. The three warriors came striding down the hill. When they were close enough for her to see their expressions, her breath caught in her throat. The men looked furious.

She moved closer into Iain's side. "Why are they awake?" she whispered.

"There was a meeting," he answered. "It lasted longer than expected."

Iain didn't seem inclined to explain what had happened, and she was too exhausted, and frightened, to ask him. After tossing and turning for quite a long time, finally Judith fell into a fitful sleep.