Chapter 28
Claire was thankful she had once again had found a routine. She spent her mornings with Mairi, had play time with Cerwyn, worked on the accounts in the afternoon, and sat sewing with Aliana, Neala, and Dedre in the evenings after the meal.
As usual, they sat in Aliana’s chamber before the fire. The ploy of Claire helping her cousin prepare for her child appeased all, though Dedre was too busy with the embroidery of her gowns to bother with such a mundane task.
“Aliana, hand me your dagger, please,” Claire asked with an outstretched hand. All threads were cut with the sharp small daggers the women carried. She could imagine their delight in the small, dainty scissors she had taken for granted in her mother’s sewing kit.
“Here, cousin. I will ask Hagan to give you one of his. ‘Tis a thing you should have.” Aliana smiled as she spoke. Every night she said the same thing yet never followed through. Claire wondered if Aliana still held out hope that Ian’s dagger would again rest at her hip. If she did, her friend wasn’t paying attention. The way Dedre spoke of the future let everyone know who would be at Ian’s side.
“Thank you, cousin.” Claire took the dagger and cut the threads from the tiny garment in her hands. The fabric was butter-soft, and despite the circumstances, she smiled at the completion of one more garment for her layette.
Dedre rose from her seat and held her gown out for all to witness. “‘Tis finished. What do you think?” Small colorful flowers stitched at the hem and the bodice embellished the gown of blue.
“I am pleased with it and plan to wear it when Ian returns with my father. ‘Tis a gown made for celebrating. I wore a similar color when Ian last paid a visit to our clan. While sitting in the garden, he spoke of the gown flattering the color of my eyes.” Dedre was clearly lost in her memory. “Ian is truly gifted with words. Such sweet things he said to me. Such a passionate man. I practically swooned from his kiss alone. It was heartbreaking when my clan could nay meet the dowry needed.”
Claire kept her eyes on the tiny garment in her hand and away from the glow emanating from Dedre at her recollection. “But now, ‘tis all changed. Thanks to Claire and her bookkeeping skills, this clan will have wealth again. The dowry my father came to tempt Ian with last month should be verra well received.”
Claire pitied Aliana and Neala. They had a hard line to walk. While no one knew exactly what Ian planned, she knew it was over between them. Yet she could feel her anger rise at Dedre’s assumptions. The woman had a lot of nerve with her assertions that she was the one he would marry. Claire sighed and picked up more cut fabric to begin sewing. Closing her eyes to force the moisture to recede, she focused all of her concentration on the task in her hand.
Aliana answered, “We shall see what is to be when all return. But the gown is lovely and will surely complement the blue of your eyes.”
The answering smile let her know that Aliana had pacified Dedre. Claire had never met anyone who needed so much praise. The woman sought compliments for each item of clothing, and for merely brushing her ridiculously long hair.
Aliana yawned, and Claire knew it was pretend from the exaggerated noise. “You must forgive me, the hour grows late, and the child makes me wish to sleep.”
“Aye, Aliana. You must rest,” Dedre said with a polite reply. “I am certain I will feel the same when I too carry a child for this clan.” Dedre rose and placed a kiss to her cheek. “Neala, you will accompany me to help me prepare for bed.”
“Of course, Lady Dedre.” Neala rose and followed Dedre to the door. “Claire, I will see you in the baths on the morrow.”
“Goodnight, Neala, Dedre.” Claire gathered her sewing materials and rose from her seat. “Go to sleep, Aliana. I will see you for breakfast.”
Aliana reached out to hold her friend in place. “Forgive me, cousin. Dedre is a guest in my home. I can nay control how she speaks.”
“You don’t have to apologize. Dedre is who she is. But what is wrong with Neala? We sit here most nights, and she says nothing.”
“Neala holds her tongue because she has nothing nice to say. While we love her and treat her as our own, Dedre views her as a simple servant. Neala is trying to keep the peace.” Aliana turned her head away, and Claire could hear what wasn’t said. We keep Dedre happy because she may be Ian’s wife.
“I can understand that.” Though it hurt more than she could have dreamed, the women’s behavior made sense. Claire released a real yawn. “Speaking of tired, I am going to bed.”
“Please wait for one moment. There was another reason for me to keep you.” Aliana rose and moved to a chest in the corner and pulled out several gowns. “These are now a wee bit too tight for me. The ones you wear will verra soon be the same for you. Take them, please.”
“While I don’t feel right taking more from you, I will. Thank you. To be honest, I’m not as comfortable in what I have as I used to be,” Claire replied as she took the gowns in hand.
“You should have spoken. Now I am pleased I did.” Aliana picked up the pile of infant clothing she and Neala had been working on and handed them to Claire. “Take these. They are yours.”
“These are yours. I am working on ones for me.”
“Nonsense. I have most of what Cerwyn wore, and the lasses have been working to prepare more for me.” She placed them in Claire’s arms. “These I have made for you.”
A tear rolled down her cheek. “This is one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me.”
“Dinna cry. I, too, carry a child and will be forced to cry with you.” Already Aliana’s eyes filled with the promise of tears.
“Thank you, Aliana.” It was all she could manage to say with her throat thick with emotion.
“Go to bed and sleep. Mayhap soon we can find some time alone. You were trying to explain a . . . a burrito to me.”
With the first genuine smile Claire had felt in weeks, she said, “Now you’ve made me hungry. We’ll talk when we can. You had a lot of questions, and I’ll answer them all.”
“Then sleep well. My questions grow with every talk we have.” Aliana hugged her tight and then Claire walked the corridor her to chamber.
Placing the gowns on her bed, she gently folded and added the infant clothing to the basket on the table. Her hand covered her small bump and sleep called to her weary body. She cringed at the small, comfortable bed. Sleep had become a time of nightmares and she tended to wait for exhaustion to force her to bed.
Walking to the window, she listened to the waves crashing on the cliffs. Her mind sought the meditative hum of the repetitive sound. She wasn’t ready to face the demons of her sleep having just spent the evening with the live blond version.