“Duncan, will you stay?” she asked, noting happily the identical twists of the smaller and larger MacKerrick men as they turned to face her. “There is food aplenty, and I would that you feel welcome to linger.”
Duncan’s slender face split into a wide grin as he stood, sweeping his arm—and the mead jug—across his midsection as he fell into a deep bow.
“’Twould be me honor to enjoy your company, missus.”
Conall shot out a leg and kicked his brother’s backside, but Duncan was spry and came aright, swinging the jug backhanded at Conall’s head.
Both men laughed and cursed at each other.
“I’ll set about a meal,” Evelyn called to them. “Conall, I’ll have need of more water in a bit. Don’t be in a hurry,” she added when he made to rise. “And go lightly with the mead, husband—’tis still early in the day.”
Evelyn turned back to the hut with a chuckle when Conall raised an acknowledging arm to her, and Duncan dealt him a stiff cuff on his ear.
“Dammit, Duncan!” Conall cried, bringing his hand to his ear with a hiss. He looked at his fingers. “Am I bleeding?”
“You’re nae bleedin’, you great, soft lass,” Duncan scoffed before reclaiming his seat on the bucket. He took a swig of mead then passed the jug to Conall.
“Well,” Duncan sighed while Conall drank. “This is a foine fuckin’ mess you’re in, me brother. A bloody fortunate one, to be certain,” he added quickly. “But a mess, all the same.”
Conall nodded, propped the jug on his knee. “Finish telling me what is about in town.”
“Nae much else to tell. The folk are in high spirits that the stores have held with nae great losses; the deer remain plentiful, as do the hares; the seed is ready, and we’ve had three litters of swine born in one month, all the piglets hale and hardy.”
Conall shook his head. In past years, they’d been lucky to have one or two piglets to survive as breeders. Half the stores would be lost to rot. ’Twas a miracle—a miracle brought on by his Buchanan wife.
How could he ever repay Eve for what she’d done?
“Any talk of the Buchanans amongst the folk?” Conall ventured.
Duncan’s face turned regretful and glanced toward the hut. “Aye. O’ course, I’ve told them naught of the missus, so they feel we’ve overcome the curse by sheer will. Thumbin’ their noses south, they are. Some have even spoken of a raid upon your return.”
Conall groaned. ’Twould not be a good atmosphere in which to introduce his new wife. HisBuchananwife.
As if his brother had heard his thoughts, he spoke. “Mayhap if you told Eve of the circumstances, prepared her beforehand…?”
Conall shook his head and winced. “I doona know, Dunc. I’d planned on telling her well before now, but…I fear Eve would only be incensed by it. She wasna pleased to find herself with child.” At Duncan’s raised brow, Conall elaborated. “Her own mother died giving birth to her. Eve worries…”
Duncan gave low whistle. “I can imagine her dismay when she learned of Nonna’s fate.”
Conall winced.
“You didna tell Eve about your wife before her?” Duncan ran a hand over his scalp. “You deceitful sack o’ sh—”
“She knows I was married, and that Nonna died,” Conall interrupted. “Jesus, Dunc.”
But his brother was unconvinced. “Oh, sure. But you didna tell her how, though, did you? Or about the wee lass.” It was more of an accusation than a question. “So doona ‘Jesus, Dunc’ me.”
“I didna tell her of the bairn, nae,” Conall admitted quietly.
“Do you nae care for your Eve at all?” Duncan demanded. “Tell me true, Conall—I’d have nae secrets between us. Is she but a pawn for you to move about, then?”
“Of course not!” Conall frowned. “I—”
“How do you reckon Eve’ll feel when she finds out? When she finds out you kept it from her? ’Tis playin’ her false, brother, plain and simple.”
Conall was not a little offended. “I know Eve. Telling her would only increase her fear.”
Duncan shook his head emphatically. “It may at the present, aye,” he conceded. “But I’d wager if she discovers it later—either by your own confession or, more likely, town gossip—she’ll think that Nonna and the bairn meant naught to you.”
