Highland Valentine Read online

  “I have to pee.”

  She paused by the bed. “TMI.”

  Jules snorted. “That’s not TMI. I can give you some TMI if you want. My boobs are killing me, I ache in other—”

  Claire giggled and shook her head. “Damn, I missed you, big sis. Sometimes letters don’t do it.”

  “Miss me later, can you help me up?”

  “Of course.”

  Her sister helped her out of bed, and to handle her morning business—definitely a downside to the seventeenth century.

  “I brought you breakfast, because I assumed you wouldn’t want to be social this morning, but Janet and Alana want to see you when you’re ready.”

  “Appreciate it. Really.” Jules couldn’t take overprotective MacLoeds any more this morning than she could yesterday. Not yet anyway.

  Claire nodded and pulled the padded chair out from the desk, practically pushing her down into it.

  “I’m pregnant, not an invalid, you know.”

  “You’ve been through a trauma.” She took the opposite seat, broke the small loaf of bread open, and handed her half, along with a bowl of honey butter.

  “God, no. Please don’t.”

  Her sister’s gaze was somber as she regarded her. “It’s true, Jules.”

  “I don’t need you cop-talking me. Or worse, sounding like a therapist.” Jules had been a detective, and had said the trauma crap to many a victim of various crimes. But especially when a woman lost her husband, no matter how it’d happened.

  Claire sighed and popped piece of cheese into her mouth. “Fine. I’ll leave things alone for now. Just take it one day at a time.”

  “Thank you.” She took a bite of bread and closed her eyes. “This is awesome. Don’t tell Mab I said this, but Mairi’s honey butter is way better than hers.”

  A ghost of a smile played on her sister’s lips, but she didn’t speak. She concentrated a bit too hard on the food in front of her.

  “What, Claire?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Bullshit. Just say what you want to say. Frankly, I’m shocked you’re not all like, ‘Go back to Armadale, Hugh loves you.’”

  Her sister blew out a breath, averted her gaze, then looked back at her. “I wouldn’t say that to you right now.”

  “I heard the yet.”

  “I know he’s been an asshole, but I do believe he loves you.”

  He does. He told me when I walked out on him.

  Jules’ bottom lip wobbled and her appetite dissipated, despite the yummy honey butter and the rest of the bread in front of her.

  “Aww, dammit. I didn’t mean to make you cry.” Claire closed her eyes and sighed again.

  She sucked in her cheek, bit down, and looked anywhere but at her sister.

  “Look, bottom line, you need to be here, you be here. Even if Alex didn’t okay it, I’d find a way. You’re my sister and I love you. But Hugh’s baby is… Hugh’s baby. His firstborn, his heir, especially if you’re having a boy. You can’t stay here forever. You know it even if you won’t say it. You don’t have the luxury of rockin’ the single motherhood thing in this century.”

  “I know,” Jules whispered. “Can you lay off the reality check, please? At least for now? I just… I just…” Tears spilled, hot on her cheeks, and the baby shifted inside her, pressing on her organs with a jolting discomfort that felt like revenge. She winced and shifted on the chair.

  “Jesu,” Claire said, sounding just like her husband—or Hugh. She was off the chair in seconds and wrapped her arms around her. “Now I’m the asshole.”

  “Yes, you are.” Her words were muffled against her sister’s shoulder. “You just took me in; only to say you’d put a pregnant chick out on the street—or in the field, around here.”

  She pulled back, but amusement darted across her pretty face. “Wow, you’re laying it on thick, arencha?”

  Their gazes locked and they were silent for a moment, but then they broke into giggles. Jules’ emotions were all over the place, but it felt good to laugh with her sister.

  Conversation fell to the wayside as Claire returned to her seat and they both ate, but the heavy words—the truth—played on a loop in her head.

  What am I going to do?

  “I could…go home.” She regretted the blurt as soon as it’d breached her lips. Partially because she didn’t want to go back to the future—she wanted Hugh to want her and the baby—and partially because of the look that darted across her sister’s face.

  “What?” Claire demanded.

  “I didn’t mean it.” She shook her head.

  “Well you said it, so you kinda meant it.”

  Jules sucked in a breath and closed her eyes. “I really didn’t. I mean…the thought crossed my mind once or twice. He…hurt me. You know he did. But…my life is here. My life is Hugh.” She clenched her jaw to stop more tears. Saying the words and coming to terms with walking away from him warred inside her. “God knows what they think happened to us in Texas, but—”

  “Before you got here, I thought about you all the time. You were my only regret. Then…you came, and fell in love, and stayed.”

  “I know, Claire. I don’t want the future, except seventeenth century speaking. I just want Hugh to want his child as much as he wants me.”

  “I know.” Her sister’s expression lost its irritated, defensive edge.

  Their many letters detailed Hugh’s neglect of her over the course of her pregnancy. Claire had been the first to stand up for Jules’ husband, citing his past losses, but as the months went on and he continued to ignore her, deny there was an issue, her little sister had gone mama-bear on her husband—in writing anyway.

  Although, given the chance, she wouldn’t put it past Claire to give him a tongue lashing. Jules had taught her all she knew, of course.

  “What would you do if Duncan wouldn’t have wanted Lachlan? What if he didn’t want the baby you’re carrying now?” The more she spoke aloud of how Hugh felt the more her voice wobbled, until she barely held the sob at bay.

  Her sister looked down. “I don’t know, Jules.”

  She bit the inside of her cheek again and looked away. Her gut roiled, and even though she’d long since been done with morning sickness, she contemplated vomiting.

  “I know what could cheer you up!” Even in the chair, her sister fairly bounced in her ladies slippers. Her expression was so hopeful that Jules would buy it, she couldn’t help indulging her.

  “What?” She tried not to roll her eyes, and reclined in the chair.

  “We’ll celebrate Valentine’s Day!” Her sister’s green eyes lit up and she leaned forward, her flaxen locks swaying around her lap. “Twenty-first century style!”

  “Right. That would so cheer me up.” She’d just lost the only Valentine she’d ever want. Jules bit down until her teeth ached and tried to take comfort in her the baby’s movements, resting her hand on her belly.

  Remorse darted across Claire’s face, as if she’d read her like a book. Knowing her sister, she probably had. “Damn. I’m a jerk. I…didn’t think about it that way. I’m sorry. I just want to distract you.”

  “It’s okay. I guess I have to get used to it.” Her voice wavered, even to her own ears.

  Claire sighed for the third time and darted to back her, enveloping her in another hug Jules couldn’t fight. She needed the comfort.

  “It’ll be okay. I thought we weren’t gonna talk about reality checks?”

  “But it won’t be okay, and I need to be deal with that. Maybe you were right about that.” Her voice was weak, and it wasn’t because she was against her sister’s slender body.

  Claire pulled back. Her expression said she didn’t agree, but she didn’t comment about Hugh again.

  Thank God.

  “When we were little, you were my Valentine. So this year, I can be yours.”

  Jules snorted. “Isn’t Valentine’s Day just a religious holiday around here? It’s called something else… It’s too early�
��like over a hundred years—for the hearts-and-cupids thing.”

  She winked. “Does it matter?”

  “Yeah, I think it does. The not changing history thing, and all that.”

  “Nah, it won’t matter in the scheme of things! We’ll throw a party, and make paper hearts or something. We can wear red. The kids will love it, too! Alana and Janet will help, I’m sure of it. We have a few days until the fourteenth!”

  Yes, because I’m so freakin’ feeling like partying.

  With another look at her sister’s expectant expression, Jules didn’t have the heart to tear down the attempt to cheer her up. There was no reason to hurt Claire’s feelings, too. And shit, it might help; who the hell knew? “Fine. We’ll celebrate Valentine’s Day our way.” She tried to muster a smile for her sibling.

  Her sister’s face lit up again, making her seem years younger. “Yay, Jules! It’ll help, I promise.”

  Yeah, I doubt that.

  She forced a nod as Claire flitted from the room with the empty trencher.

  Jules sighed and tried not to give into more tears.

  Chapter Four

  The soft knock on the door jolted Jules from a half-asleep state.

  “Oh, I didna mean to wake you. I can come back.”

  “No, no, come in.” She sat up and tried to smile.

  Her sister’s ‘let’s celebrate Valentine’s Day’ thing had been a go from first light; they’d spent the morning in the solar, making parchment hearts and even a heart garland or two. She didn’t want to know what the red and pink dyes were made from.

  Seeing the children laugh and play—and mostly ignore the four women and two servant girls that were interested in the day—had been heartening, but Jules had tired out and snuck away for a nap.

  Claire’s sister-in-law, Alana, slipped into the room and shut the door. “How are you?”

  She fought a yawn and the constant depression. “I’ve been better.”

  “The bairn?” She crossed the distance and perched on the bed next to her.

  “No, the baby’s fine.”

  The former Fae Princess smiled. “May I?”

  “Sure.” Jules couldn’t look away from the gentle violet eyes appraising her. Alana’s expression was just as soft, and she fought tears. Again. She didn’t want someone else to look at her like that. She bit her bottom lip and tried to avert her gaze, but couldn’t.

  The touch was warm on her distended tummy, even through her clothing, and Alana’s hands began to glow as she checked her over with magic. She didn’t speak, but she looked at Jules’ stomach with a slight smile curving her full mouth.

  “The bairn is healthy,” she said finally.

  Relief and elation washed over her, but it battled with the sadness she was coming to loathe. Hugh wasn’t here, at her side, to hear this news.

  But it wasn’t like he wanted to be, either.

  He might love her, but he didn’t love or want their child.

  The knowledge haunted her.

  “That’s good to hear,” she forced out, but her words tremored.

  The princess sighed and met her gaze. The radiant white glow in her hands faded, and she reached for Jules’ forearm. She squeezed, and her purple eyes settled into impossibly sincere and soft again. “I can assure you there’s nothin’ wrong with your bairn, and I—or my cousin—could likely heal any problems, but I cannot do anything ta heal your heart, and for that, I am sorry.” Her formal tone mixed with Highland brogue was as endearing as she was, but it didn’t stop Jules’ tears.

  She tried to blink them away but it was no use. Soon they cascaded down her cheeks. Looking anywhere but at the princess didn’t help.

  “All is well, or ‘twill be.” Alana kept her voice low. “I have an idea of somethin’ ‘twill make you smile.”

  She snorted. “Not likely.”

  The princess waited for their eyes to meet again and smiled. It lit up her face, and Jules was awestruck by her beauty, alabaster skin, long white-blonde hair, and those eyes, even though she’d known the Fae woman for a year now. “If I were my husband, I’d offer you a wager on that.” She winked.

  Jules couldn’t keep from smiling, but it was tiny. “Okay, then. Let me have it.”

  “Well, first I shall ask, would you like to know what your bairn is?”

  “As in, boy or girl?”

  She nodded.

  Yes, she wanted to know, but she’d always imagined Hugh would want to know, too. She banished the renewed pain and nodded.

  Alana’s smile slid into a grin. “‘Tis a lass.”

  Her heart skipped. More tears were born, but this time they were more happy than sad. “A baby girl?” She smiled genuinely, even if it was wobbly. “A little girl.”

  Would her husband be disappointed their first child wasn’t a boy?

  Her joy stalled.

  Alana squeezed her hand. “Doona think about him for now. Focus on the wee lass ‘twill soon be in your arms.”

  “How did you know?” she choked out.

  “I can’t read minds like Xander, but I can feel your emotions, and you’re all over the place, so ‘twas a fortunate guess. Try to stay calm, for your daughter’s sake.”

  “Easier said than done.”

  Her eyes held so much feeling for Jules, her breath evaporated.

  “I’m sorry.” She shrugged, then swiped at her face and sniffled.

  Alana flitted across the room only to return with a handkerchief from the vanity. “You have nothing ta be sorry about, Lady MacDonald.”

  She startled, and the thank you on the tip of her tongue dissipated. “Just…Jules…please.” She didn’t need another reminder of Hugh.

  Not like she didn’t have a constant one, anyway, growing inside her.

  The princess’ expression flipped to contrite as she retook a seat on the bed. “I’m sorry for further upsetting you. I meant no harm.”

  “You’re fine, really. This…” She took a breath. “I know my…situation is…unusual. Women don’t…leave their husbands in this century.” Jules fought the urge to crumple.

  “I don’t blame you, and I don’t think anyone else does, either. Even the menfolk. Hugh MacDonald is a hard man to deal with; I can’t imagine trying to love him.” Her pretty face had sadness stamped all over it. She was no doubt still feeling everything Jules was.

  “I do!” she blurted. “I love him so much.”

  “I can feel it. ‘Tis why you hurt so badly.” The princess squeezed her hand. “I have faith it’ll work itself out. Doona worry yourself now.”

  She didn’t have the guts to disagree or ask how.

  “Jules, are you okay?” Claire slipped into the room.

  Alana stood and smiled. “She is. The bairn is well, and a wee lassie.”

  “A girl!” Her sister clapped. “I’m so jealous!” She rubbed her barely showing tummy, her mouth curved up. “I want a little girl like Lexi!”

  The princess laughed. “My daughter would also appreciate a lassie to play with, instead of the two lads she has.”

  Claire grinned. “Lachlan does enjoy pestering her.”

  “Liam does his fair share, now that he’s walking,” Alana said of her other nephew.

  They both laughed.

  Jules tried to push away the envy that settled over her from watching the two women interact. Her sister had two women to commiserate with, raise her babies with, and be friends with. She didn’t have anyone like that at Armadale. Mab was great, but Hugh’s aunt was in her sixties.

  Claire’s sisters-in-law were lovely. Even though Jules had kind of been forced to socialize all morning, seeing them laugh and talk together, working on her sister’s silly party, had been something wonderful.

  They were a team, and they’d tried their best to include Jules’ doldrums-stricken self. She might be blood to Claire, but they seemed closer to her than she felt.

  She couldn’t help but watch them parent their children, too. Jules could learn a lot from them. She wa
s older than Claire and Janet, but they were both experienced mothers.

  Alana knew what she was doing, too, but she was probably older than Hugh’s aunt. Fae lived twice the human lifespan; she didn’t look a day over thirty. It’d be rude to ask, so she’d just have to wonder the princess’ real age.

  Jules was nervous. Had never really planned for kids—she’d been a cop, and serially single. Until Hugh. Then she’d wanted them. She’d wanted his babies.

  Too bad he didn’t.

  They’d be like any new parents—trial and error—but without modern conveniences. Or really any conveniences. No drugs for the birth, either.

  And as of right now, I’ll be on my own with all this stuff.

  Jules stifled a moan of misery and pressed against the pillows.

  Alana threw her a worried glance. “Doona worry about anything, Jules,” she repeated.

  The brightness in Claire’s expression fell. “What’s wrong?”

  She shook her head and gestured helplessly. “Nothing and everything. I’ll be fine.”

  The two women exchanged a look, but neither contradicted her. Silence filled the space, but two sets of eyes regarded her with all sorts of concern she wanted to ignore.

  “Maybe I should just go home. Back to Armadale,” Jules blurted, adding the MacDonald stronghold so her sister wouldn’t think she meant the future and flip out.

  Claire took the princess’ former seat on the bed beside her and grabbed her hand. Her green eyes were somber. “If you want to.”

  Jules closed her eyes. “I don’t know what I want.”

  But she did.

  She wanted Hugh, and as things stood, that was part of the problem.

  ****

  Hugh stalked through the great hall, and the two servant lasses cleaning the vast place scattered. One squeaked, the other squealed, even though neither was close enough to him to be considered in his way.

  There was a clatter as one of them dropped something, but he didn’t stop to chide her. She’d likely burst into tears, and he wasn’t in the mood.

  If black was even a mood. It was the only color he could see.