“While I would like to remain here with you, it is just after mid-day and I have responsibilities to see to,” Rannick said.
“I do as well,” she said on a yawn.
“Things can wait. Rest for a bit,” he urged and reluctantly slipped out of bed.
Another yawn settled it for her. “Just for a bit.”
Rannick dressed and smiled when he went to the bed to kiss his wife. She was already asleep. He left the room closing the door quietly behind him.
Bliss felt her husband’s kiss but said nothing, feeling too tired to even say a word. Lovemaking had worn her out, though it had never done so before, but she had never felt faint before this time. And they had made love often, almost every day.
She sprung up in bed. Had she been so busy, so consumed with her husband and new home that it had slipped her mind? How could she forget something so important?
It had been two months since they had first made love and she had not bled. Her monthly bleed could be sporadic at times, a day here, three days there, but two months without seeing it at all was not normal for her. There was a good chance she was with child.
The thought brought a thrill of joy along with a dreaded fear. She would say nothing until, she was sure, and she wondered and worried what her husband would do if it proved true.
CHAPTER 23
“Why didn’t you tell me Odran sent a warrior to us?” Rannick demanded. “How long has he been here?”
“I don’t recall. I have had Lawler keeping him busy and away from you and Bliss unsure if he can be trusted,” his father said annoyed. “Tell your friends to stop sending us their castoffs. Brogan sent a young woman, Damia, who is with child, here as well. Her grandfather, Harold, and sister, Lana, belonged to our clan. “Do you recall them?”
“Harold was old when I was young, and Lana worked in the keep if I remember correctly.”
“She did and she was a good, obedient servant. Your mother made me let her go when she met a man from another clan when at market and wished to wed him. Harold perished in the illness that struck the clan. Damia no longer has family here and will be returned to Brogan’s clan.”
“Brogan sent her here for a reason and I will hear that reason before any decision is made about her,” Rannick argued.
His father’s fist came down on the table, he sat behind in his solar, with a sharp rap. “You do not rule this clan yet.”
“Maybe I should,” Rannick snapped.
His father bolted up off the chair. “Give the clan an heir and I will turn the leadership of it over to you.”
Rannick wanted to let his father know that that would be a long time coming, but Bliss had made a bargain with his father and while Elysia was safely wed to Odran, there was still Annis to consider. His father could get angry enough to force a marriage on Annis and that would upset Bliss.
Instead, Rannick returned to the problem at hand. “Odran and Brogan sent both here to me and I will find out why.”
His father dismissed the issue with a snap of his hand. “Talk with them if you wish but the decision will be mine.”
“Nay, Da, this decision rests with me,” Rannick cautioned.
“Do I hear a threat in your tone?” his father demanded.
“Do not make it necessary.” That time there was a definite threat in his tone.
His father looked ready to argue but held his tongue. “I forgot how obstinate you can be.”
Rannick smiled. “I am a lot like my father.”
His son’s smile brought a smile to Lochlann’s face. “Then the clan will be in good hands when the time comes.”
“Aye, that is something you never need to worry about,” Rannick assured him.
“It does my old heart good to know the Clan MacClaren will live on and I look forward to my first grandchild.”
Rannick ignored another reference to an heir, moving on to another subject. “No news from any of the men we sent out to see what they could find out about this righteous group who wants to see this curse end with Odran, Brogan, and me?”
His father shook his head. “Someone riles them, convincing them that any and all problems stem from the curse.”
“Has anything been heard of a speculation that the MacWilliam bairn lived and now seeks revenge?”
Anger smoldered in his father’s eyes. “That is not possible. I saw the bairn and I can assure you that she was dead.”
“You saw the bairn, but you did not deliver the fatal blow, an illness did,” Rannick said, reminding his father of his own words.
Lochlann dropped down in the chair as if his own weight, or perhaps the guilt, was too much for him. “I sent a message to the King that he would question no more and the matter could finally be laid to rest.”