"Such a waste of beauty and strength on heathens. When they are defeated the McKane will take Maldebann," Connor breathed.
"When I have done as I promised, the Logan take Maldebann," Ramsay said with an icy gaze that dared Connor to disagree.
* * *
CHAPTER 31
when jillian awoke the next morning, she immedately became aware of two things: She missed Grimm terribly, and she had what women called "breeding woes." As she curled on her side and cradled her stomach, she couldn't believe she had failed to recognize her malady the previous morning. Although she'd suspected she was pregnant, she must have been so distracted by worries of how she would maneuver Grimm to Maldebann that she hadn't pieced the facts together and realized she had the morning nausea the maids at Caithness had often complained of. The thought of suffering it every morning depressed her, but the confirmation that she was carrying Grimm's child replaced her discomfort with elation. She couldn't wait to share the wonderful news with him.
A sudden alarming ache in her stomach nearly made her reevaluate her joy. She indulged herself in a loud, self-pitying groan. Curling into a ball helped, as did the conso lation that from what she'd heard, such illness was usually of brief duration.
And it was. After about thirty minutes it passed as suddenly as it had assaulted her. She was surprised to discover she felt hearty and hale, as if she'd not suffered a moment of queasiness. She brushed her long hair, tied it back in a ribbon, then sat gazing sadly at the ruins of her wedding gown. They'd left Caithness with nothing but the dress on her body. The only items of clothing in her chambers were that and the Douglas plaid that Grimm had bundled around her. Well, she wasn't going to be denied breakfast by a lack of clothing, she decided swiftly. Not when her tummy was so temperamental.
A few moments and a few strategic knots later, she was wrapped Scots-style in a plaid and ready to make her way to the Greathall.
* * * * *
Ronin, Balder, and Grimm were already at breakfast, eating in strained silence. Jillian chirped a cheery good morning; the morose group clearly needed a stiff dose of gaiety.
The three men leapt to their feet, jostling for the honor of seating her. She bestowed it upon Grimm with a bright smile. "Good morning," she purred, her eyes wandering over him hungrily. She wondered if her newfound knowledge of their child growing within her glittered in her eyes. She simply had to get him alone soon!
He froze, her chair half pulled out. "Morning," he whispered huskily, stupidly, dazzled by her radiance. "Och, Jillian, you have no other clothes, do you?" He eyed her clad in his plaid and smiled tenderly. "I recall you dressing like this when you were wee. You were determined to be just like your da." He seated her, his hands lingering on her shoulders. "Balder, can you set the maids to finding something Jillian might wear?"
It was Ronin who replied. "I'm certain some of Jolyn's gowns could be altered. I had them sealed away…" His eyes clouded with sorrow.
Jillian was astonished when Grimm's jaw tensed. He dropped into his seat and fisted his hand around his mug so tightly, his knuckles whitened. Although Grimm had told her a few things about his family, he'd not told her how Jolyn had died. Nor had he told her what Ronin had done to carve such a chasm between the two of them. From what she'd seen of his da, there was nothing remotely strange or mad about him. He seemed a gentle man, filled with regrets and longing for a better future with his son. She realized Balder was watching Grimm as intently as she was.
"Did you ever hear the fable of the wolf in sheep's clothing, lad?" Balder asked, eyeing Grimm with displeasure.
"Aye," he growled. "I became well acquainted with that moral at an early age." Again he flashed a look of fury at Ronin.
"Then you should be understandin' sometimes it works in reverse—there's such a thing as a sheep in wolf's clothing too. Sometimes appearances can be misleadin'. Sometimes you have to reexamine the facts with mature eyes."
Jillian eyed them curiously. There was a message being conveyed that she didn't understand.
"Jillian loves fables," Grimm muttered, urging the subject in a new direction.
"Well, tell us one, lass," Ronin encouraged.
Jillian blushed. "No, really, I couldn't. It's the children who love fables so much."
"Bah, children, she says, Balder!" Ronin exclaimed. "My Jolyn loved fables and told us them often. Come on, lass, give us a story."
"Well…" she demurred.
"Tell us one. Go on," the brothers urged.
Beside her Grimm took a deep swallow from his mug and slammed it down on the table.
Jillian flinched inwardly but refused to react. He'd been stomping and glowering ever since they'd arrived, and she couldn't fathom why. Seeking a way to lessen the palpable tension, she rummaged through her stock of fables and, struck by an impish impulse, selected a tale.