The Clover and the Tartan

And here is another cute chapter… which could end with a teeny tiny cliffhanger! I hope you enjoy it!

Thanks Rath101, weheartnoelle and Guest for your reviews!

Rath101: ahahah I love it too when Murphy is getting all grumpy, he'd make such a great grandpa… I guess you'll be thrilled by this chapter, then!

Weheartnoelle: oooh I wish it was that easy to buy a piece of Heaven near the beach, ahahah! You might have your answer about Brianna and Stephen having children quite soon, actually… Hope you'll like it!

Guest: Stephen will know the truth very soon (as in Chapter 35), so be prepared for the coming storm (literally)! I'm feeling much better, thanks! I wish I had gone to the hospital sooner instead of letting the situation get worse for weeks… Anyway, hope you'll enjoy this sweet chapter!

oOoOoOoOoOo

34. Beir Greim ar mo Lámh (Hold my hand)

Perfect. Such was the adjective Brianna would have used to describe every single morning of the past month. First, she could feel Stephen's hands all over her body as soon as he opened his eyes at sunrise. Then, there was the soothing sound of the waves crashing on the beach, making the pebbles and sand sing as they receded. After that, when she opened her eyelids, the sky was almost always a pure azure blue. And finally Stephen, who never seemed to get tired of her, took possession of her body the minute he felt she was awake. Yes, every morning was perfect… and that's why the contrast with this particular morning was so striking.

For starters, she hadn't felt Stephen's hands on her body as usual and her first thought upon waking up was to complain about it. She could hear the waves, but someone seemed to have turned the volume up so loud that her head was buzzing. And the sky was way too bright. Brianna painfully lifted her head from her pillow, groaning and saw that Stephen was already up and getting dressed.

"I think I really need to watch Boyle and how often he fills up your glass…", Stephen quipped as he buttoned his waistcoat.

Brianna frowned. She was having the worst of headaches, though she had barely soaked her lips in a glass of rum the night before, to celebrate O'Brien's recent promotion. Stephen had officially passed on the torch to him, as his first mate now sailed on his own to the different places where the crew went for fresh supplies and materials. The vote had been quick as no one else had volunteered for the position and O'Brien had always been very appreciated among the crew, and they had spent the rest of the evening drinking in his honor. But even then, Brianna had not felt well. Thus, suffering from such a hangover without even drinking was quite odd.

"I didn't even dr-", she muttered before she froze. Her stomach had just tried to flip over like a pancake and she put a hand over her mouth. Fortunately, nothing came out of it, but she felt like the organ had not yet said its last word.

"Are you all right?" Stephen was not smiling anymore and he gave her a worried look. Before she even had time to answer, he walked over to the bed and put his hand on her forehead. No fever, but she was a little pale.

"Yeah, I just... feel bad since yesterday...", she mumbled, falling back onto the pillow. In Boston, she would have swallowed an aspirin or something and got rid of the headache and general dizziness in less than an hour, but in the eighteenth century she would have to do with the means at hand. In other words... nothing.

"I can stay here if you want me to..."

Brianna sat up. "Don't. I'll just sleep it off and it will pass. You will be more useful outside repairing roofs…"

The Irishman narrowed his eyes, scanning his wife's naked body and slightly swollen breasts, and seemed to think for a moment as a smile gradually appeared on his lips. But before she could ask him why he was staring at her like that, he turned away and walked briskly towards the exit. "Alright… I'm sending Mary to take care of you."

"Huh huh…", Brianna growled, rolling back under the sheets.

Whistling a catchy old Irish tune, Stephen went downstairs and across the patio to the kitchens, peeked inside, then walked to the small wash house in the backyard. Their young maid was already at work and she quickly turned her smiling face towards her employer.

"Good morning, Sir. Is there anything I can do for you?", the teenager asked, wiping her wet hands on her apron.

"Could you bring Brianna a light breakfast? She does not feel very well, she wants to stay in bed…"

Mary blinked several times. The pirate's cheerful tone did not at all match the kind of news he was breaking. Worse, he looked… happy that his young wife was in bed.

"Oh and… you might need a bucket…", he finished waving his index finger at a pile of buckets and basins stored near the washhouse, before turning away.

"A bucket, Sir?", Mary repeated, frowning. "Is everything all right?"

Stephen froze and turned around with the most disarming of smiles. "Of course, Mary. Everything… is… perfectly fine."

The next moment, he had disappeared inside the house and Mary hastened to take her clean linen out of the water to put it in a basket, grabbed a bucket in the process and after placing the basket in the kitchen, climbed the stairs to the master bedroom. She had barely pushed the door open when she saw Brianna suddenly sit up on the bed, put a hand in front of her mouth and try to get up in a hurry. Mary ran over to her and handed her the bucket about half a second before she filled it. That's what the bucket was for...

"Oh… You should have told me, Madam, I would have brought that bucket up to your room last night just in case…", Mary whispered, pushing Bree's red curls behind her shoulders so as not to soil them.

"I wasn't exactly planning on getting sick...", Brianna gasped, feeling her stomach calm down slightly now that it had brought up its content.

Mary rolled her eyes and put the bucket down nearby, before filling a glass of water from the half-full pitcher on the dresser. "Well, that was to be expected... wasn't it?", she added, before noticing Brianna's inquiring look. "I've been taking care of your laundry for over a month and a half, Madam. We maids notice these things..."

Her brain must have been slowed down by the migraine because Brianna didn't immediately understand what Mary was referring to. Until the light broke upon her... and her brain started to do the math. When did she have her last period? Definitely in River Run… Shortly before Stephen's escape… around the end of December. "What day is it today?"

"It's… the end of February, Madam."

She hadn't cared too much about it until now, to be honest. Since her teenage years her period had never been regular, with breaks lasting up to six months and lately, with all the stress and their crazy adventures, she had already skipped a cycle or two. It was impossible to get pregnant in such anarchy… Right?… The thought of being pregnant suddenly hit her head-on and it must have been written all over her face, for Mary began to stammer.

"You... you had not understood?"

"I'm just… I'm not used to bleeding… regularly… so I wasn't exactly worried…" Panic made her voice rise a few octaves as the thought kept making its way into her mind.

"And how often are you used to puking, exactly?", Mary mocked, forgetting for a moment that she was no longer employed in a brothel but in an (almost) respectable house. Brianna opened her eyes wide and Mary pursed her lips immediately. "Excuse me, Madam…"

"No, no, it's fine… I just need to calm down and take a deep breath…" Brianna inhaled and exhaled deeply, trying to clear her mind. She just needed to think. Her gaze fell on the bucket and she frowned. "How did you know I needed a bucket?"

"Mr. Bonnet came to see me and asked me to bring it to you… He seemed so happy to tell me you were sick, that I thought for a moment that he had poisoned you and was now savoring his success."

Once again, the teenager's straightforwardness hit home and Brianna involuntarily burst into laughter. Stephen had thus realized that something was going on in her body, before she even knew it. It was quite endearing and disturbing at the same time. Correction: endearing and absolutely creepy.

"I'll bring you something to eat!", the girl trumpeted, pulling Brianna out of her thoughts. She nodded with a smile, which disappeared as soon as the blonde left the room. Pregnant… She still couldn't realize that this was indeed a possibility. She and Stephen had never really taken any precautions and now that she thought about it, she was incredibly lucky it hadn't happened earlier. At the very beginning of their relationship, when he didn't care about her enough to consider having a baby. Or worse, after abandoning her in Wilmington. She couldn't imagine what might have happened if her parents had found her heartbroken and bearing a pirate's child, conceived out of wedlock. Especially Jamie... Her father would have probably convinced her to go back to the twentieth century, and that would have been the end of the passionate romance between Stephen Bonnet and Brianna Fraser.

Things were a bit different now. They were married and settled, where no evil-minded person would find them. This would take a few variables out of the equation. But not all of them. If she was actually pregnant, she would have to make quick decisions. Immediate, even. Her mother had told her that she had managed to go back to her century when she was less than three months pregnant, but she didn't know what could happen once the fetus was viable. When Claire had told her this part of the story, Brianna's brain had imagined the worst scenarios, straight out of horror movies: from the simple miscarriage to the baby left in the past and the mother arriving at her destination with her belly torn into pieces, Brianna had considered every solution and these terrible images were now coming back to her. She shook her head to chase them away. No. She didn't want to leave Stephen and go through the same Hell as her mother before her. Claire had managed to return to the past afterwards, but there was no guarantee that Brianna could do the same once her child was born. There was no guarantee that the child could travel with her either.

This decision was therefore simple: she would not leave. She would give birth here, with Stephen by her side, like millions of other women before the advent of institutional delivery. With one big advantage: a mother who was an excellent surgeon and who wouldn't hesitate to travel from North Carolina to make sure everything went fine. Besides, she had promised to write to her as soon as they were settled in a safe place, but had not yet done so for lack of time, too absorbed in her marital happiness. Well, it's now or never...

Only one question remained unanswered: would she be able, in all good conscience, to give birth and raise a child in this dangerous and unhealthy century, when another safer and healthier life awaited them on the other side of the stones? Even though her mother and Frank had both suffered from their situation, Brianna was happy she had the chance to live in an enlightened century, where girls could access education, where people of color were treated as full citizens, where most of the diseases of yesteryear had been eradicated or could be easily cured… This modern life had made her the woman she was today and she was proud of it. Her personality had earned her the respect and trust of an entire crew, and especially of an intriguing pirate captain. Stephen would never have paid any attention to her if she hadn't been insolent, rude, out of control and quick-witted. Could she therefore deprive her child of this opportunity? Was it selfish to stay by Stephen's side at the expense of her baby's well-being and education?

Jumping up, she walked over to a small pedestal table by the window and opened its only drawer. She had stored all her drawings there, as well as her stock of blank paper and equipment. Taking a sheet of paper, she left the bedroom in her nightgown and walked to the study to write a letter to her mother. O'Brien would leave within a week for Saint-Domingue, in order to buy dried meat, alcohol, building materials and post the sailors' mail – as those who were married wanted to ask their families in Ireland or in the colonies to come and join them here. She would only have to slip her letter among theirs. By then, she would know whether the nausea was a one-time thing or not. Maybe it's just a silly indigestion…, she thought, but even her inner voice didn't seem convinced. Dipping the quill into the inkwell, she took a deep breath. It had been barely two months since she had left her parents and she was going to have to tell them in one go that she was married, had bought a house and was probably pregnant. Jamie's gonna be over the moon... Brianna winced at her own sarcasm and with a sigh, started writing the most difficult letter of her entire life.

~o~

"Time to take a break, Mr. Murphy!", Mary bellowed from the ground, cupping a hand around her mouth, as if she needed this to carry the sound further. A furious growl answered her from the roof of the carpenter's small cabin, but she saw the man's boots appear at the top of the ladder and get down to firm ground. It had now been over two months since they had settled in Cajo Babo and the temperatures had climbed a few more degrees. From pleasant, the weather had become hot, then hot and damp. The rainy season wouldn't start until the end of May, so they still had two and a half months to finish their work, but the heat and humidity of the tropics were slowing them. To make matters worse, a strong East wind was blowing since the morning and big clouds were gathering on the ocean. A storm was coming.

Over the weeks, it had almost become a game between them: Mary would show up and urge him to take a break, Murphy grumbled that he was feeling perfectly fine but still stopped and obediently swallowed the lemonade and biscuits that the teenager prepared for him every day. Then he grumbled a little more before going back to his work. And this time was no exception.

"Jesus, Mary, Joseph, could you be a little more discreet?", Murphy growled, jumping down the last rung.

Mary gave him her best smile. "I was afraid you wouldn't hear me up there..."

"I am not yet deaf..."

He saw her move her lips as if she was speaking, but without making a sound. As he didn't answer, she did it again, punctuating her silent monologue with gestures towards her ears, implying that he couldn't hear a thing.

"Hilarious…", Murphy muttered, as Mary laughed out loud this time. However, he reached for the glass of lemonade she had placed on the table on the porch and sat down on a chair to sip it. Although he acted cranky, the close, daily surveillance of the young girl reassured him. He hated to be interrupted in his chores like a child who is called for dinner, but he was aware that Mary was doing it for his own good. And she was the only person who knew of his declining health anyway. As horrifying as it was, he had to admit it was nice to have a guardian angel around.

However, the angel in question seemed preoccupied – no, excited – about something, and his suspicions were confirmed when the young girl sat down across from him looking like someone who's up to no good. "So… tell me, how's that roof going?"

Murphy narrowed his eyes. He didn't know where she was going with her questions but he would soon find out. "It's almost over. Doherty's cabin worries me a little more, though. I will definitely help him out once this one is fixed. But we'll see that after the storm."

Mary pouted and crossed her arms over her chest thoughtfully. Would you please spill the beans, lass?, Murphy thought, patiently waiting for her to tell him what was on her mind.

"Um... will you have any free time left, if you help Mr. Doherty?"

"Free time for what, exactly?"

The blonde shrugged. "For other side projects..."

"What kind of side projects?"

Mary took a quick look around and seeing that no one was within earshot, she rested her mischievous eyes on the carpenter. "Oh, I don't know… Furniture, for example? Very… very… very… small furniture…"

"What use would anyone have for very, very, very small furniture?", Murphy quipped, imitating her.

"Maybe for a very, very, very small person?"

Murphy did not seem to understand at first, then he frowned, before his eyes became round like saucers... And immediately looked at the teenager's flat stomach.

"Not me! Are you insane?", she laughed, before he finally understood who she was talking about. "Madam has been sick every day for the past two weeks and the least we can say is that she's not getting better... Of course, it is still too early to tell everyon-"

"That's why you've decided to spread the good news…", Murphy growled, furious that she dared to do such a thing behind the young couple's back.

The girl gave him an indignant look. "Absolutely not, who do you think you're talking to, here? You're the only one I'll tell…" She reached for a cookie and ate one with an annoyed pout. "I just thought you would need some time to make something beautiful… for the baby…"

Murphy's expression instantly relaxed and he almost hated himself for scolding her so quickly. He was about to apologize to her when the teenager rose from her chair with a long sigh. "Think about it! Children's furniture is much more relaxing and less dangerous than roofs. At your age..."

"Get out of my sight, you little scumbag...", he muttered, his desire to apologize already gone. Mary gave him a beaming smile and took the empty lemonade glass before walking off towards the mansion. Murphy watched her go, a smile slowly settling on his wrinkled lips. That girl had many flaws, it went without saying. She had the annoying habit of getting involved in everything, she said everything she thought without thinking, and her stay at the brothel certainly hadn't made her more polite. But she had a good heart.

The carpenter watched her for a moment longer until she disappeared inside the house, before looking for paper and charcoal in his cabin. The roof could wait. He would never have time to finish it before the storm tonight anyway… and he had sketches to make.

~o~

"That's ridiculous! I am perfectly capable of helping!", Brianna roared as she walked into the living room on Stephen's heels. Around them, several sailors were busy nailing planks to protect the window frames from the wind. It had only gotten stronger throughout the day and the clouds on the horizon were getting dangerously close. All the inhabitants of Cajo Babo were therefore busy blocking the openings and protecting what could be before the elements raged. Well, almost all of them. O'Brien and about twenty guys were still in Saint-Domingue with the Gloriana and had probably decided to stay there until the weather got better. And one resident in particular was facing her husband's outright refusal to see her get too close to a tool or a ladder. Since the recurring morning sickness and cruel lack of menstruation had left no doubt as to her condition, the pirate's paranoia had moved up a notch and if he had been able to lock Brianna up in a sanitized bubble, he would have done so.

"Do not insist, darlin', that's a no! And there are no more hammers available anyway."

Brianna narrowed her eyes, spotting Doherty nearby, his arms filled with planks for the second story windows. "Mr. Doherty?", Brianna called.

"Yes, Madam?"

"Is it true that there aren't enough hammers for everyone to help?"

Doherty blinked, not really understanding why he was being asked this crazy question. Of course there was a plethora of tools, as some of the men were on a supply mission on another island.

"Well…", the quartermaster began before noticing Bonnet's threatening gaze and waving arms behind Brianna's back. As the sailor did not seem to understand the meaning of his frantic gestures, the pirate opted for a shorter and clearer message. He shook his head from side to side as he slowly ran his thumb across his neck, as if slitting his own throat. Doherty gulped loudly. "That's right, Ma'am, we're currently facing a shortage of… er… hammers."

"You don't say...", the young woman grumbled, narrowing her eyes. Doherty let out a nervous laugh: her expression reminded him very well of the captain's threatening glances on his bad days. "What about planks? I can still carry planks…"

Doherty's eyes moved to the pirate but Brianna raised an arm and snapped her fingers in his field of vision. "Don't look at him, Mr. Doherty, look at me."

Doherty stammered and Stephen decided the game had gone on long enough. "No hammer, no planks. Period."

"Do you really intend to keep me wrapped in wool for another seven months?", Brianna exclaimed with a hint of exasperation.

As if by magic, there was not a single hammer blow in the living room and all eyes turned to them in shock. But it only took one glare from Stephen to get the sailors back to work. The pirate was about to give a sharp answer, but Doherty rushed to help the young woman before the situation escalated. And also because they had no time to waste before the storm.

"Ma'am, I haven't had time to check that there are enough lanterns, water, food and blankets for everyone in the cellar. The evening and night will be long... Could you take care of that for me?"

"I don't know, ask my husband…", the young woman mocked with a shrug.

But the said husband took the remark literally and nodded. "Yes, you can do that. Ask Mary to help you." And as he turned to leave the house and help protect the outbuildings, he said over his shoulder: "And be careful down the stairs. That's an order."

Brianna watched him go, before turning her attention back to Doherty. When he saw the young woman's dark gaze, the quartermaster gave another nervous laugh and immediately disappeared up the stairs that led to the second floor. With an exasperated sigh, she admitted defeat and walked to the kitchen. Mary had just come home, her arms filled with the laundry she had hung up earlier in the afternoon and which had dried in record time thanks to the wind. "Are you looking for something, Madam?"

"I... I wanted to make sure we had everything we need to spend the night in the basement..."

"I'll go with you!", the girl interrupted immediately before rushing to a cupboard. "Let me just light a lantern." Once her candle was lit and the lantern closed, Mary walked down the stairs to the basement door. "I'll go first, just to be safe."

"Oh Lord, not you too?", Brianna moaned, catching the teen's astonished gaze. "Never mind..."

An hour later, the clouds had chased the sunlight and Cajo Babo was plunged into a grayish half-darkness, torn by more and more frequent bolts of lightning. Thunder rumbled in the distance and the whole house began to hiss and crack in the wind. Those who had finished protecting their cabins had taken refuge under the porch of the mansion and watched with a mixture of apprehension and fascination the approaching storm over the ocean.

"The show is much more enjoyable when you see it coming from land than from the sea, isn't it Mr. Lowett?", Murphy laughed, noticing the blissful face of his colleague, leaning on the porch railing.

"Let's say I'm much less nervous…", Lowett answered, with a shiver. "Especially that last storm back in October... I really thought we were all going to die. I hope O'Brien found a safe place out there. And that our mail will not get lost…"

"So you asked your wife and children to come from Galway?", the carpenter asked with a smile.

"God willing… It's been almost a year since I left. The wee lads probably don't even remember my ugly face…"

Murphy stifled a laugh and turned his head as he saw the last men run over to the house under the first falling raindrops.

"Is everything ready?", Stephen asked, and Murphy nodded silently. "Good. This is our first storm here. We'll soon find out if we did a good job with those repairs..."

"There will be damage. Some frames have not been reinforced enough. It might not hold out...", Lowett tempered, entering the living room.

Stephen closed the last patio door, as well as the heavy shutters, behind him. "Let's say I'll consider myself happy if at least half of our work from the past two months resists tonight. As for the rest... we will learn from our mistakes..."

In the cellar, most of the men were already comfortably seated on the floor and conversing happily by the light of the first candles lit by Brianna and Mary. The latter had huddled in a dark corner with Jimmy, who was whispering to her, occasionally making her giggle. When Stephen entered the basement, Brianna gave him an angry look, which he immediately swept aside with a charming smile. Of course, he had got what he wanted again, so there was no need to be frustrated anymore.

"Come here..."

Pulling her gently by the arm, he led her to a corner of the room, dropped to the floor, and motioned for her to sit between his legs. Brianna groaned, but still snuggled up against his chest, unable to resist the warmth that always radiated from his body. With a triumphant smirk, he put an arm around her waist and his hand on her still flat stomach.

"Let me be clear, I'm still mad at you…", she grumbled, though that simple gesture almost caused her to melt.

"For the next few months, the two people that are dear to me in this world are stuck in the same body... That's why I intend to take care of it twice as much..."

Brianna blinked, smirked, and laughed stupidly.

"What?", the Irishman sighed, annoyed by her reaction to his romantic comment.

"Sorry, I was just picturing... Murphy and I stuck in the same body..."

"I wasn't talking about-", Stephen grumbled before hearing his wife's laughter rise against his chest again. "Alright, that will teach me to get all sentimental..."

"Sorry, it surprised me, I'm not exactly used to it...", the young woman quipped.

Above them, the house creaked so loudly that silence fell briefly in the cellar, as everyone looked up at the ceiling. When the volume of conversation was back to normal, Stephen leaned closer to her ear.

"I wasn't joking, Brianna. There is no way I'll let you hurt yourself in any way. No work, no sailing, you don't come near any insects and you stay away from any sharp or pointy object."

"Am I allowed to breathe?", she sighed, rolling her eyes. But Stephen answered tit-for-tat, blowing his hot breath into the crook of her neck.

"Only if you breathe the same air as me."

Brianna raised her nose and let her eyes linger on his serious and vaguely worried expression. The last few weeks on land had done him a lot of good. He was less pale, his fingernails were growing back, he had got his appetite back and was able to sleep soundly again. A few nightmares once in a while still haunted his nights, but they grew apart every day. The last thing Brianna wanted was to see him worry himself sick again. With a shy smile, she slipped her hand into Stephen's, intertwining their fingers. Then she nodded in approval, and the pirate's features instantly relaxed.

The house creaked again, louder this time, as if something was broken upstairs, but neither looked away from the other. Tomorrow the storm would have passed. Tomorrow, or so they thought, their peaceful life would take its course. But it was without counting on the wind... and what it had just accidentally revealed.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Ooooh… Do you smell trouble? What do you think the wind brought us? And what did you think of this chapter? The pregnancy, Bonnet's reaction and Brianna's decisions? Everything could change between them in the next chapter!... Or not? I guess you'll have to wait until next Monday to find out!

I can't wait to read your comments and until then I wish you a wonderful week!

Xérès