Page 119 of Ghost of the Ton

“What about a gift from a grateful friend?”

Mia caught her breath as her heart swelled. “Only if you can spare it.”

“Och, just bring it, Aileen!” Iona said. “Do ye have such an abundance of friends, Mia, that ye dinnae wish for one more?”

Jamie sidled up to Ada and offered his hand. “Come on!” he said brightly. “Ye’ll need help getting home, won’t ye?”

After they left, Mia closed the door and leaned against it.

“Why dinnae ye rest while I make tea?” Iona said.

“It’s you who should be resting.”

Iona’s hand drifted to her belly. Then she glanced at the list of names on the table and blushed.

“Has…” Mia hesitated, unwilling to broach the subject that had been left unspoken since she’d learned of Iona’s condition. “Has your child’s father said…”

“He disnae want me,” Iona said, “so I dinnae want him. He only wanted to tell his friends he’d put his cock in the laird’s sister. Then he called me a hure, saying he’d tell Hamish that I’ve been spreading my legs around the clan like Maisie, and anyone could be the father.”

Mia raised her hands in supplication. “Forgive me. I won’t mention it again. But people will find out eventually. At the very least, you should tell Hamish.”

“Why? He disnae care about me.”

“I think you’ll find he cares about you very much, even if he cannot show it.”

Iona pushed out her bottom lip and folded her arms.

“Very well, what about your mother?” Mia said. “Eilidh was the first one here to welcome me without judgment, when others were all too ready to…”

Her voice trailed off as Iona’s eyes filled with tears.

“Well, that’s all in the past.” She took Iona’s hand. “But you need a friend. I might not be here when you enter your confinement.”

Iona sniffed, then lifted her hand to her mouth and swayed sideways.

“I knew you’d been overtaxing yourself today,” Mia said. “Take a seat and I’ll make tea. I’ll give you a moment to yourself while I fetch the water.”

She retrieved a pan from the kitchen, then exited the cottage and made her way to the river. Her breath misted in the cold air, but as she turned her head to the sky, the sun bathed her face with a gentle warmth.

She smiled to herself—if anyone had asked her a year ago if she’d be able to survive a life in the cold, unforgiving environment of the Highlands, without the comforts of a London home, she’d have laughed. But here she was, in a land where the air was as fresh as the sweetest grass, where even the frost that gripped the land, making it iron hard, held a particular beauty, glimmering like diamonds in the winter sunlight.

The river brought forth its own style of beauty. Though the water moved too rapidly to freeze compared to the Thames in London, ice crystals had formed on the edge of the river, sprouting like tiny shoots, their silvery-white tendrils stretching out where the water lapped against the shore.

Mia crouched beside the water’s edge and traced a tendril with her fingertip. Soft footsteps approached and she smiled.

“I thought you were going to take a rest, Iona.”

“How did ye know it was me?”

Mia turned to see the girl staring at her, her brilliant-green eyes wide in her pale face. In her woolen gown that stretched over her swollen belly, her frame thin and delicate, she was the most vulnerable-looking creature Mia had ever seen. She rose, suppressing the urge to take the girl in her arms.

Who would protect Iona when she was gone?

A twig snapped in the distance and Mia glanced up. Then she caught the familiar white flash of a deer disappearing through the trees into the density of the forest. Rory had said that the harsh weather would drive the deer off the higher slopes, and he’d been right. Since the frosts had begun, Mia had been gifted most mornings with a visit from the gentle brown creatures, some of which were bold enough to come within reach and let her stroke their soft fur before skittering away, like children playing a game of dare.

“If I promise to tell Ma,” Iona said, “will ye make me a promise in return?”

Mia opened her mouth to say that it depended on the promise, but the plea in the girl’s eyes cut through her heart.