Adelleine read the letter in her hands a few times, though she didn’t know why. Perhaps it was sentimentality, she thought, or perhaps her pregnancy was making her forget what she was reading, what she was doing, even what she was saying sometimes.

“What does it say?” Fin asked.

The two of them were the first to wake up that day, and they were having breakfast together as they waited for everyone else to join them. It was then that one of the servants had brought Adelleine the letter, and she had opened it to find out that it was from none other than her aunt.

At Fin’s question, she began to read it aloud, a small smile appearing on her lips.

Dear Adelleine,

I cannot expect you to forgive me for what I did. I can only apologise for what I have done and ask for your forgiveness, and hope that you shall offer it to me. You must believe me, though, when I say that I did not know about the baron’s cruelty, or I would have never pushed you to marry him. I care about you as though you are my own, and the only reason why I wanted you to marry the baron was because we needed the money. It is not a good enough excuse, but none could ever be enough. If you choose to forgive me, then I ask you to please reply to my letter. I wish to hear  from you, to know that you are well.

 Yours,

Aunt Victoria

 P.S. Tell Fin to write me more often. I miss him dearly, and if he does not come to visit, then he can at least write to me.

“And tell him to stop being such an annoying little fool,” Adelleine added once she finished reading the letter, just because she liked to tease Fin after a childhood of being teased by him.

“It does not say that,” Fin said, but the way that he snatched the letter from her hand and read it on his own told Adelleine that he had at least some doubts.

“You should go and visit her, Fin,” she told him, “She must miss you very much . . . she always talked about you when I lived with her.”

“And what about you?” Fin asked, quickly turning the subject back to her, as though he didn’t wish to discuss visiting his mother, “What will you do?”

“Well, I can’t go visit her, can I?” Adelleine asked, as she pointed at her ever-growing belly. She was too pregnant to travel, especially such a long distance, and she wouldn’t be able to travel for a while after giving birth. “Perhaps I can tell her to visit.”

“You want her to come here?” Fin asked, “Adelleine, I love my mother just as much as any person loves their mother, but she is not the kind of woman that you want around for too long, especially not when you’re pregnant.”

“Fin, it’s alright,” Adelleine assured him, “I’m sure that now that I’m married to Magnus, she’ll be much more pleasant to be around.”

“She’ll ask you for money,” Fin warned her.

“I’m sure I can spare some money for her,” Adelleine said, “She took care of me when I had no one else. I don’t blame her for what she did. She had so many children to raise, it’s not as though she spent that money on dresses and hats. She did what she had to do.”

“So, you’ve forgiven her?”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” Adelleine said with a small shrug, “I understand her. I can’t imagine what I would do if we didn’t have the means to raise Fergus and this little one. And she raised us all well.”

There was a pause between them as Fin considered her words. In the end, he tossed the letter on the table with a sigh, reaching up to run his hand through his hair.

“I suppose you’re right,” he said, “And she is my mother . . . perhaps I’ll visit her soon. But first, we must write her some letters.”

“You can go right ahead and do that,” Adelleine said, “I can’t possibly walk to the study these days . . . I wobble like a cow.”

“Now, now . . . a lady cow, at worst,” Fin said, much to Adelleine’s chagrin, as he stood and gave her a pat on the shoulder, “I’ll bring you a pen and some paper, alright? You won’t even have to move.”

“Fine, fine,” Adelleine said, “I’ve heard enough of you. Now go.”

Adelleine spent the next several minutes enjoying her breakfast alone, something that she had come to appreciate ever since she had gotten pregnant, as she could be as unladylike as she wanted. She didn’t have to worry about people watching her as she ate, and she didn’t need to worry about mean-spirited comments, which were the norm in castles, it seemed to her.

Her peace was soon disturbed, but Adelleine didn’t care when she saw it was Magnus and Fergus approaching her. In fact, she would much rather be with them than be alone, she decided, and when Fergus offered her a freshly picked daisy, Adelleine didn’t think she could be any happier.

“I took it from the gardens!” Fergus announced, “I asked Dadaidh if I could pick it for ye, and he said aye, but only one.”

“Thank you, Fergus,” Adelleine said, as she pressed a kiss on the top of his head.

Soon, he would be too tall for her to reach while she was sitting, she noticed, and the realisation brought a tear to her eye, much to Fergus’ and Magnus’ confusion.

“What is it?” Magnus asked, as he rushed to her, placing a hand on her stomach, “Is it the bairn?”

Adelleine shook her head, waving dismissively at him as she tried to get him to stop fussing over her. “No, no . . . everything is fine,” she assured them, “I just . . . he’s growing up so fast, Magnus. Look at him! Before you know it, he’ll be as tall as you.”

“I will?” Fergus asked, suddenly excited at the idea that he would be the size of an adult one day.

“Aye, ye will,” Magnus said, ruffling the boy’s hair with a hand, “And Mamaidh will be so happy that she’ll cry again.”

The look that Adelleine gave Magnus was one that could kill, but he simply smiled at her, giving her a small shrug. Adelleine couldn’t deny that ever since she had become pregnant, she had become much more emotional, but she didn’t consider that a bad thing. She was simply living life to the fullest, she told herself, feeling every single emotion as strongly as humanly possible.

Perhaps a little too strongly at times.

“Well . . . Aunt Victoria wrote,” she informed Magnus, eager to change the subject, “She said that she wished to apologise for everything.”

“Is that so?” Magnus asked, as the maids brought him and Fergus their plates of freshly cooked breakfast, “And what will ye tell her?”

“There is nothing to forgive,” Adelleine told Magnus, just as she had told Fin, “I understand why she did what she did.”

“And yet, she could have caused much more damage,” Magnus reminded her.

“No, Magnus,” Adelleine said, “None of it was her fault. She did was she thought was best for me . . . for everyone. Everything that happened was the baron’s fault. He is the one who couldn’t accept my decision.”

Magnus couldn’t argue with that, it seemed to Adelleine, and so he remained silent, until Fin returned with a pen, some ink, and some paper, just as he had promised, setting it on the table in front of Adelleine.

“I will also tell her that she is welcome to visit,” Adelleine said, as she began to write her letter, but she stopped when she heard Magnus’ fork clatter on his plate.

“Do ye wish for her to visit?” he asked her.

“Yes,” Adelleine said, “Why not?”

Magnus hesitated for a moment. Adelleine watched him glance at Fin, who shook his head at him slightly, so slightly that it was almost imperceptible. Crossing her arms over her chest, Adelleine frowned at the two of them, but Magnus simply smiled at her, reaching across the table and taking her hand in his.

“Of course, she is welcome to visit,” he assured her.

“We’ll just make sure to hide the valuables,” Fin joked, forcing a laugh out of Magnus. Even Adelleine couldn’t help but laugh, though she tried to stop herself from doing so, thinking that it wasn’t proper.

She wouldn’t be surprised if her aunt tried to leave the castle with some silverware, though. Mrs. Blair would be furious if she found her silverware missing.

The rest of their breakfast was spent in a comfortable silence, the three of them making small talk, Adelleine engaging Fergus in conversation every time that the boy seemed to be bored and in need of a stimulus. Just when they were about to continue with their day, though, Isla burst into the room, throwing the doors wide open.

“I’m gettin’ married!” she announced to the room, rushing inside to wrap her arms around Adelleine, a huge, bright smile on her face. Hendry followed soon after, walking into the room with a smile of his own, though nothing could match Isla’s enthusiasm.

“You’re a lucky man, Hendry,” Fin told him, as he shook the man’s hand.

“Aye, and yer dead if ye dinnae get those thoughts about me Isla out of yer head,” Hendry said with a scowl, much to Adelleine’s and Magnus’ amusement.

“Surely, you don’t mean that,” Fin said, glancing back and forth between Adelleine and Magnus, “Surely, he doesn’t mean that, right? Right?”

“I don’t know, Fin,” Adelleine said, “I wouldn’t take anything that Hendry says lightly.”

“He’s killed men for less,” Magnus added, and he laughed as he watched Fin squirm and go pale. He patted him on the back, hard enough to make him curl over the table, though Fin didn’t seem to mind. “We’re only jokin’, lad. Hendry has never hurt a fly.”

That was certainly not true, and Adelleine was well aware of it, but she refrained from telling Fin, as the man was already scared enough of Hendry as it were. Instead, she finished writing her letter, handing it back to Fin to seal it and hand it to a messenger along with his own, and then she went about her day, which mostly included listening to Isla talk about her upcoming wedding.

She was more than happy to listen to her, though. Isla was excited for it, and that made Adelleine excited, too, to the point where the two of them spoke about it all day.

By the time Adelleine made it to bed, she was exhausted, as she usually was those days, having to carry the weight of the baby around with her. It didn’t take long for Magnus to join her, and once he was next to her, she scooted up against him, grabbing his hand and making him wrap it around her.

Magnus laid his hand on her stomach, as he always did at nights. Adelleine was happy to indulge him, and the two of them stayed like that for a while, enjoying the moment in silence.

Then, the baby kicked, and Magnus all but jumped out of the bed, mouth hanging wide open.

“I felt a kick!” he shouted, loud enough for the entire castle to hear, “Adelleine, I felt a kick!”

“Yes, I heard you,” Adelleine said, unable to hold back a soft laugh, “Have you never felt the baby kick before?”

“Nay!” Magnus said, “Does it do that a lot?”

“Yes,” Adelleine said, “Some days, it’s all that she does.”

“She?” Magnus asked, raising an inquisitive eyebrow, “How do ye ken that it’s a she?”

“Mother’s intuition,” Adelleine said with a small shrug.

The truth was that she didn’t know, but she hoped. They already had a son, after all. Now, she wanted a daughter.

“Weel, what if it’s a laddie?” Magnus said, “Ye cannae ken until it’s born.”

“I suppose we’ll have to wait and see,” Adelleine said, as Magnus settled down behind her once more, holding her close, “And if this one is a girl, perhaps the next one will be a boy.”

“Yer plannin’ far ahead, I see,” Magnus said, as he rested his chin on Adelleine’s shoulder, pressing a soft kiss on her skin, “How many bairns are ye aimin’ for?”

“Oh, I don’t know . . . a few,” Adelleine said with a shrug. She had grown up in a big family, after all, and she couldn’t imagine having only two or three children. “How many do you think we can have before we go insane?”

“Half,” Magnus said.

Adelleine laughed at that, shaking her head at her husband. “You’re very dramatic,” she said, “Well, we already have two, so you’d better get used to it.”

“Aye, I suppose yer right,” Magnus said, “And what about Fin? Have ye found him a lass yet?”

“Is it my duty to find him a woman?”

“Ye said ye would.”

“I didn’t mean I’d hold a contest for him!” Adelleine said, “I only meant that if someone comes up, then I will make sure to introduce them.”

“Weel . . . I might have just the lass,” Magnus said, and that caught Adelleine’s attention, urging her to turn to look at him, “She’s the daughter of the man who trained me as a warrior when I was a bairn. He’s a verra good commander, and she’s a verra kind lass. Bonnie, too. She’s close to Fin’s age, I believe.”

“How come she’s not married?” Adelleine asked.

“Apparently, she told her faither that she’ll only marry for love, and nothin’ that he says to her can change her mind, I thought that ye could perhaps . . . arrange a meeting.”

“Oh, I see,” Adelleine said, a conspiratorial smile on her lips, “Very well, I’ll invite her to the castle, and I’ll tell Fin to be nice.”

“What would I do without ye?” Magnus asked, mumbling against her lips as he kissed her, “What would I do if ye hadnae come into me life?”

“You’d have Hendry,” Adelleine said, “The two of you were all but married when I met you.”

“Aye, but Hendry doesnae have these,” Magnus said, as his hand grabbed one of Adelleine’s breasts, much to her surprise.

“Magnus!” she chastised him, but she couldn’t stop herself from laughing at his antics.

“Do ye still love me, lass?’

“Of course, I love you,” Adelleine said, “There will never be a time when I won’t love you.”

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