Page 36 of Hold Fast

“He is asleep,” Fiona said, resting a gentle hand on the boy’s forehead. “His fever is still high, though Una believes he is fighting it with strength. He took a bit of broth in the night, and she was pleased by that.”

“Aye,” Ewan said, forcing the word over the hurdle of the lump in his throat. “That is verra good.”

“Perhaps you should check on Una now?” Fiona said, her eyes squarely on the mending in her lap.

He rubbed the back of his neck, noting that even that ached. “Aye, I will. You will alert me if anything changes with Connor?”

“Of course, m’laird,” Fiona said.

The sky was turning pink and the mountains looked as if blanketed with a dusty velvet in the early morning light as Ewan walked briskly through the empty courtyard. The chapel was a small, stone addition to the keep. Inside, there was enough seating for a laird’s large family with a few extra pews for guests. It was primarily used for individual prayer as the MacDonalds shared a priest with a few neighboring clans and did not have one in residence.

As he closed the door behind him without a sound, he saw the lone figure sitting in the second pew in the dim chapel. She had lit two of the candles and one of the wall torches, which made the sharp, flickering stabs of brightness tremble and dance across the stone walls.

He approached her with quiet care, clearing his throat when he was a pew behind her.

“You’re up early, Ewan,” she said in a soft voice.

For a moment, he was struck by the fact that she had known it was him without turning around, as if she could sense him. He thought he might be able to sense her too, that he could find her even blindfolded if only he let the animal of his body find the animal of hers.

“As are you, Una,” he replied, taking a seat next to her. Close, but not touching.

“I didnae ken what else to do.”

“For Connor?”

“Aye. I am doing everything I ken to do. Everything that has ever worked.”

“And so now you come to pray?”

“Something like that,” she said with a sigh. “And you? Do you come to pray as well?”

“Something like that,” he said.

But he had hesitated too long, and she noticed.

“Something like that, but not exactly like that. Why are you really here?”

He pinched his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger, something he did when he was thinking, a habit his father had tried in vain to break, telling him it revealed too much.

Ewan looked up at the stone ceiling as he said, “I see you changed your frock.”

She whipped her head away so that she was staring at the crucifix hanging behind the altar.

“Why, Una?”

It wasn’t his business, and yet he found that he wanted to know. Heneededto know.

“’Twas too fine a gown,” she answered stiffly. “I told you I wanted something in a dark color that wouldnae stain. Something fit for work. I am nae a lady of leisure. You—”

Her voice shook at the end with barely controlled anger, and Ewan held up a hand.

“Una. Please. I didnae come to fight you. I came to apologize. Because you’re right. You did ask for a dark gown. You asked for a work gown. But I saw that one and… I wanted you to have it.”

She angled her face toward him. “But why? It was your mother’s gown, Cat told me. Why would you give me such a precious gift? ’Twas far too much.”

Ewan ran his hand over his mouth before rubbing his chin.

“I dinnae ken how to explain it,” he said, which was true. “I just did. But it made you uncomfortable, and for that I am sorry. Can you forgive me?”