Tavia could see her words were forced. “What are you not telling me, Marta?”
“There is nothing more to say,” Marta said, stubbornly.
Tavia was not done yet. “Did you attend my delivery?”
“I was sent from the room,” Marta admitted.
“Did you learn what happened that caused my mum to lose her life?” Tavia asked.
Marta turned her head away for a moment as if lost in memories. “I was told that once you were delivered your mum bled profusely. No one could stop it. She knew she would not survive, and it was said that she pleaded with Bhric’s mother to look after you and keep you safe. Lady Orianna swore she would.”
“Why would you not respect my mother’s word and see Lady Tavia kept safe when given the chance?” Ingrid asked puzzled.
“Daughters are much like their mothers,” Marta said, casting an accusing glance at Tavia. “
“I am pleased to hear that,” Ingrid said, smiling.
“Not you,” Marta corrected. “You are more like your father’s mother… a hellion.”
Ingrid grinned. “That is even better.”
“You did not like my mum,” Tavia said, having heard the disdain in the woman’s voice.
“It was not for me to like or dislike her, though I will say when I saw you for the first time I thought you looked familiar,” Marta said.
“And you took an instant dislike to me which means you disliked my mum. Why?” Tavia asked.
Marta clamped her mouth shut as if she would say no more but failed to do so. “You lie just as your mum did.”
Tavia drew her head back feeling as if the woman had slapped her, her accusation was so unexpected.
Marta continued to accuse. “You tricked Lord Bhric into this marriage, tricked him into bed, and I would not be surprised if you carry another man’s bairn.”
Tavia’s hand went instinctively to her stomach.
Marta’s eyes spread wide with shock. “I knew it. I knew it. You were with child when he wed you. And you will get what you deserve just as your mum did.”
The venom Marta spewed at her stung and confused her as did the questioning look on Ingrid’s face.
She turned to leave, run, cry, but something stopped her, and she drew her shoulders back and glared at Marta. “You are a vicious, bitter woman who knows nothing of the truth, and you are a blight on the Clan MacShane.”
“I am of the Thrubolt Tribe and proud of it,” Marta said.
“Aye, that you are and that is where you will return to,” Tavia said, raising her chin with a tenacious lift, then turned and walked out the door. Tears stung her eyes as soon as she stepped outside and Fen, sensing her distress, hurried to her side. “We go to the keep, Fen.”
The hound whined seeing Tavia upset, and he stayed close at her side.
* * *
Bhric did not think he saw the last of Ivan when he watched him depart and he suspected the man had no intentions of heading home. It was why he sent a troop of warriors to escort him off MacShane land. At least that would put some distance between them. He also had given orders to one of his tribe’s trackers and a MacShane tracker, an exceptional one, to follow them once the troop left them. Ivan had come here for a reason, and it bothered Bhric that he had yet to discover what that reason was.
He was headed to Greta’s cottage when he spotted her not far from it. He hurried his steps wanting to talk with her. He was worried about his wife. Seeing her ill each morning, so pale and weak after a bout of retching, had gotten him thinking about when her time came to deliver the bairn. Would she have the strength to deliver the bairn or meet her mum’s fate?
“You look worried,” Greta said and lowered her voice. “Give it time, her morning retching may stop.”
Though her remark stunned him, he did not let it show. “How did you know?”
“Tavia has been pale the last few times I have seen her in the morning, and I noticed that she cringes at certain odors. The bairn plays havoc with her stomach. But what worries you more is her delivery time.” She shook her head. “Sadly, I cannot help you with that. It will not be known until her time comes. She is strong and a fighter or she would have never survived her leg injury.”