Evelyn felt a sick rippling in her stomach as she called out to her husband, her fear obvious in her tone.
“Where is Alinor?”
“What do you mean, ‘she’s run off’?”
Eve’s face was pulled into a confused frown as she turned to follow Conall inside the house, that damned bird in her arms. Conall was worried, wet, and chilled to the very bone, and the sight of his extra léine hanging cold and dripping from the ceiling did little to improve his mood.
He sat upon the stool to undo his boots—at the very least, he had to get the soaked breeches away from his skin. He glanced up at Eve.
“We were nae farther into the wood than a score of paces when she bolted,” Conall said grimly, grunting as he jerked at the wet leather that clung to him like his own skin. “I thought mayhap she had picked up a scent, so I let her be while I checked the traps, thinking she would find her way back to us when she tired of her chase.”
“You didn’t see her again?” Eve demanded, her tone rising shrilly. She dropped Sebastian onto the pen wall while she spoke. “What of her tracks? Did you search for her?”
Conall stood and peeled the breeches from his legs, which felt like frozen hunks of venison. “The snow is melting, shifting—her tracks disappeared. But, aye, Bonnie and I looked for her—’tis why were so long away.”
But Eve was out the cottage door already, and Conall could hear her calls, growing more faint as she ran through the clearing.
“Alinor! Alinor!”
“Damn!” Conall tried to step back into his boots, but they folded together wetly, denying him. He crossed to the doorway. “Eve!”
She stood at the edge of the wood, leaning this way and that, as if trying to discern the shape of the big black, and Conall’s heart wrenched.
“Alinor, to me!A-lin-or!”
Conall had to fetch Eve back, boots or nae, lest she lose all good sense and go after the wolf. The grays were hunting again; their howls had stalked Conall and Bonnie through collapsing drifts of snow as they had searched fruitlessly for Alinor.
But he could not tell Eve that, nae. She would go mad with worry.
“Eve!” Conall stepped into the snow grimly, then jogged to his wife’s side. His feet felt afire when he grabbed for her arm. “Eve, the sun is setting.”
She jerked away from him, her eyes bright with panic and full of tears. “She cannot be left out there all night alone!” She spun and shoved at Conall’s chest with each word. “Find her!Youtook her—yougo andfind her, MacKerrick!”
“Eve, listen to me—”
“You find her, MacKerrick,right now!” She turned back to the wood and actually made to enter the tree line, her voice cracking with the intensity of her scream. “Alinor!”
Conall had no choice but to gather Eve in his arms and physically carry her back to the hut. She fought him the entire way, kicking and flailing and reaching over his shoulder, crying.
“Let me go! Alinor, t-to m-me!” Sobs racked her by the time Conall set her down inside the house, and he had to pull her away from the door and block the opening once she had her feet beneath her.
“Get out of m-my way!”
“Eve, you must listen to me. Stop. Stop!”
She sagged in his hands then, her energy weeping out of her, and her head dropped between her shoulders.
“H-how c-could you let her g-go?”
Conall’s heart was breaking at her pain—he knew what Alinor meant to Eve. He knew they had saved each other in those first days and that Eve loved the beast more than anything or anyone.
Including Conall.
Which was why he had searched for so long—hours—in the danger of the stalking grays. The last thing in this world he’d wanted was to return to the hut without Eve’s beloved animal.
Because Conall loved Alinor, as well. And he, too, worried for her safety, alone in the dark, cold night ahead.
He gathered Eve close and sat on the stool, holding her against him on his lap while she hiccoughed and gasped. Bonnie clattered over with a pitifulbaaand butted Conall’s arm.
