Snow wasn’t happy that his arms left her or that he removed her boots, a silent way of letting her know she wouldn’t be going anywhere. That thought was confirmed again when he hooked his arm around her waist to pull her up and place a couple of pillows behind her and rest her back against them, then he tugged the blanket up to her waist.

Her stomach churned as it did earlier, though she felt no faint returning. It was worry that roiled her stomach. Had her husband believed the word of the Abbot? Or was it doubt, being unsure of what he’d been told that had him leave her side?

She never felt more relieved than when her husband removed his boots and got in bed with her and not just to take her in his arms once again, but to pull her onto his lap and adjust himself against the pillows, then he tucked the blanket around both of them.

Snow kissed his cheek. “I’m glad you stayed with me.”

“My heart stopped beating when I felt you go weak against me.” He shook his head recalling the frightening moment. “You scared me senseless.”

“I never faint,” she said again as if trying to make sense of it.

Tarass rested his hand on her stomach. “Is it too soon to tell?”

Snow placed a gentle hand over his. “About a week will at least give us a clue and after a month I should know for sure. I hope it is so. I want to make many bairns with you and have them fill our home with love and laughter, but…”

Tarass watched the joy fade from his wife’s face and knew her thought. “Your da.”

She nodded. “I want to tell you without any doubt that my da had nothing to do with your parents’ death, and I can say without a doubt that the da I knew well would never have done that…”

Tarass heard another but without her saying it. He also heard the conflict in her voice, and he remained silent knowing it was difficult for her to continue.

“My da changed when his mind illness grew worse and he did things—” she paused, biting her lower lip to stop it from trembling. It didn’t help. “He did things I never expected him to do. So while I can say with certainty that when he was lucid he would never have done something so horrific, but when he was someone I don’t think even he, himself, knew,”—she shook her head—“I can’t be sure and that breaks my heart.” She buried her face against Tarass’s chest and let her tears fall.

It broke Tarass’s heart to see his wife cry and continue to suffer over her da’s illness that had left her with a father that had been barely recognizable to her.