She was not sweet. Sometimes she thought Ian had no idea of her true nature. At the moment she wanted to scream and kick and shake her fist at the fates that had done this to him. "You mustn't give up either. I need you."
"I dream about it every night now. Do you remember when as children on fine days we would go and sit on the hill among the heather?"
"Aye."
"I think it will be like that, peaceful and full of light and happiness." Ian brushed her hair back from her face. "It's waiting for me."
"Then let it wait another fifty years," she said fiercely. "We will fool it. You will grow stronger every single day and there will be a child for Glenclaren and we will—" He was shaking his head. "It will happen. I'll make it happen." She buried her face on his chest, the fear and desperation mounting within her.
"Why, you're trembling, Margaret." His breath feathered the top of her head. "You mustn't upset yourself. All is well. Go to sleep, love."
How could she sleep? He had said all was well, but he had not promised to fight to stay with her and he was wandering farther down that other path with every passing day.
He drifted off to sleep a few minutes later, but she lay staring into the darkness, rigid with fear, holding him.
"You must stop work at once." Margaret swept into Kartauk's workroom and shut the door. "I have to talk to you."
"Oh, must I?" Kartauk asked as he wiped his hands on a towel. "Since you've not deigned to visit me since we've arrived in Cinnidar, I assume it is on a subject of no mean importance."
"Of course it is. I don't waste time on trivial matters." She smoothed the skirt of her gown and sat down on a cushioned fan chair. She glanced around at the gleaming white mosaic floor and walls and multitude of windows whose latticed shutters were thrown wide to let in the sunlight. The furniture was simple but finely crafted, the chamber completely unlike his room at the stable, which she had gradually come to think of as a haven. She forced a smile. "This room is really quite pleasant. I was afraid you'd make a shambles of it as you did your workroom at Glenclaren."
"I've been here only two months. It takes even me an extended period of time to create such glorious disarray."
"Where is your furnace?"
Kartauk nodded to the french doors leading to the veranda. "Ruel had a special cottage built away from the main house. He said he wasn't going to risk me tearing down any of his walls or burning up his palace."
"Very sensible." She straightened the lace on her sleeve. "I suppose you're enjoying dabbling with your precious gold. It seems a hedonistic extravagance when one considers—"
"Why are you here, madam?"
She frowned. "I was getting to it."
"Not with any great speed. I need to finish this frieze before nightfall."
"It's early morning."
"Exactly. Is it Ian?"
"Partly."
"I take it he has not taken a turn for the worse, or you would not be here. Are you satisfied with Tamar's care of him?"
"Tamar? The man is a paragon. Ian has only to lift an eyebrow and Tamar rushes to obey. Jock has nothing to do anymore." She noticed the dog lying slumbering at Kartauk's feet. "What is Sam doing here? I thought he was in the stable."
"Jane asked me to keep him. She has no faith in his intelligence. She was afraid he would start chasing a squirrel and fall off into the canyon."
"A distinct possibility." She smoothed the hair at her temple. "Are you not going to have the courtesy to ask me to have a cup of that foul liquid you call coffee?"
"No, your hand is trembling so much you would probably drop the cup."
"Nonsense." She quickly clasped her hands together in her lap. "What sort of frieze? Are you going to—"
"You did not come here to discuss my 'dabbles,'" Kartauk interrupted. "Has Ian had a setback?"
"No, he is the same." She looked down at her hands. "But he is—" She stopped and then started again. "I'm going to have a child."
He went still. "You told me the physician said that was not possible for Ian."
"He did." She could feel the heat in her cheeks and knew those annoyingly keen eyes would notice her discomposure as he noticed everything about her. "But it must happen. You must make it happen."
He swore beneath his breath and then said caustically, "And how am I to do that? It is one thing to instruct you on the art of arousing and satisfying a man, but I have no magic incantation I can mumble to make Ian able to impregnate you. Am I supposed to—"
"Be silent," she snapped. "There's no reason for you to be testy. If you will listen, instead of ranting at me, I will tell you what I need of you."
He sat down on his stool and looked at her. "By all means, proceed."
"Ian is ... I cannot . . ." She drew a deep breath. "If I do not give Ian a reason to live, he will die. He needs a child."
Kartauk made no comment, waiting.
"Since God has not seen fit to grant us this boon, I've decided to take matters into my own hands." She looked straight ahead and asked quickly, "Will you mate with me, Kartauk?"
He went still. "What?"
She rushed on. "Only until the babe is conceived. After that, I will not trouble you further."
Silence. Why did he not speak? Though she was not looking at him, she could feel waves of emotion sweeping from him.
He said slowly, each word enunciated precisely, "You are saying I'm to father an infant which you will then pass off as your husband's?"
She nodded jerkily.
"And may I ask why you have chosen me to act as stud to your mare?"
"Don't be crude." She moistened her lips. "You seem to be the reasonable choice. I believe you have a fondness for Ian. You're strong in body and mind and capable of fathering a fine bairn."
"Anything else?"
"It should be no hardship for you. You can't deny you have a lustful nature. Ellen MacTavish and those other women were—"
"Look at me."
"If it wasn't necessary, I wouldn't do this. A child is nec—"
"Look at me, madam."
She reluctantly shifted her gaze to his face. Anger. She had never seen Kartauk in a rage before, but she saw it now.
"You will not use me, madam."
"It's not such a terrible ... It has to be you. I thought of Ruel, but I—"
"Ruel!"
"He, too, has a lustful nature and he might do it to save Ian, but I could not place that burden on him."
"What burden?"
"Adultery," she whispered. "It's a terrible sin and one I don't expect God to forgive. It is better I suffer his anger alone."
His lips twisted. "And you think me too much of a heathen for God to notice my transgressions?"
"It would be an act of mercy on your part. God would surely understand you're not at fault."
"Dear God, now bedding you is an act of mercy! You're a mad woman."
"When I first realized I might have to do this, I thought perhaps I was mad." She had to stop to steady her voice. "But I've pondered long and hard and there's no other solution. This must be done. Do you think asking you was easy?"
"I've not noticed you asking me. You've only told me what I must do."
"I did not mean to be rude. It is my way to be blunt."
Abruptly his anger vanished and his expression softened. "I know. Blunt, sharp-tongued, and giving. Well, you cannot give Ian his child." He raised his hand to stop her as she opened her lips to protest. "I won't do it, madam."