Conall paused in his chore of mucking out the animal pens inside the hut, swiping at his brow with his forearm. The air was clammy yet humid, the warmest day of the season thus far. He leaned his shoulder against the stall beam and looked out the open door through the ever-present mist at Eve, poking along the edge of the clearing with a long, flat basket on her hip, plucking tender new greens for their evening meal. Alinor herded Bonnie in circles and Conall smiled at the sight of the great black beast—no longer the stringy, hollow-bellied animal he’d first met when the snow had been deep. Now her coat frizzed with new growth, her ribs and hips disappeared beneath lean muscle. She was more than a bit rounded, Conall realized and laughed to himself. The glutton.
Alinor was not the only female in the clearing more generous of frame. Conall guessed Eve at seven months gone, and her belly protruded from her switch-slender body like a kettle, causing the front hems of her kirtle and underdress to rise up from the ground several inches higher than the back hems.
For safety’s sake, he could wait no longer. They must start for the Buchanan town on the morrow. And once they reached it, they could stay no more than a few days. Conall would take no chance of overexerting Eve, and he wanted her safely ensconced at his home well before her time was nigh.
He knew he was looking at a row with her, but it could not be avoided. He must have Angus Buchanan’s acknowledgment and blessing, and Conall wanted it over and out of the way as soon as possible. ’Twas past time for him and Eve to start living their life from under this rotting pile of ancient sorcery. The memory of the curse had become little more than a nagging nuisance and Conall was eager to return to his clan—his mother, and Duncan—and simply be free.
Conall saw Eve coming back toward the hut, Alinor and Bonnie walking slowly on either side to match her swaying, leisurely pace. He leaned the old, splintered muckrake in a corner and moved through the doorway to wash the filth and sweat from his arms and face. Otherwise, Eve would wrinkle her pert nose at him when he went to kiss her. And he would likely need to kiss her several times to get her to acquiesce to the journey they’d be taking.
Conall didn’t mind the kissing part in the least.
“The wood is alive with life,” Eve said with a sparkling smile as she neared. Her cheeks were dewy and flushed, and her bosom rose and fell swiftly with the new effort walking now required. She stopped at his side while Conall rubbed at his wet hair with a linen.
“I can hear the little ones babbling and playing—squirrels, deer, birds, kits. ’Tis like a great, green nursery.” She made to move past him into the hut.
Conall tossed the linen up to catch on the edge of the low-hanging roof and then wheeled around to snatch Eve back to him, his arms snaking beneath hers to encircle her ribs.
She laughed good-naturedly, placing one hand on his chest while trying to keep the basket aright on her hip.
He kissed her nose and she wrinkled it anyway. “You’re wet, sir.”
“Aye, but I’m clean.” He snugged her body into his as best as her belly would allow. “Care to muss me up a bit?”
Eve smiled and kissed his rough jaw, her full lips like suede on his skin. “Not now, Conall. I would set these greens to cook before they wilt.” She eased out of his arms, dragging her hand down his chest, and entered the hut. “Come, come, lovelies—ouch! Mind my foot if you would, Alinor.”
Conall ducked through the doorway after her and was pleased that she took note of his efforts even as she tended to her own chores.
“The pens look quite smart,” she said in an impressed tone and looked about the small hut as she kicked the stool closer to the fire pit and sat. “Indeed, the entire cottage is tidy.” Her grin turned mischievous. “I’d not have taken you for a housemaid, Conall, but a fine one you’d make.”
He laughed and bent to swat her bottom—nicely rounded, now—with the backside of his hand. As he crossed to the shelf to retrieve his léine from a peg, Conall decided ’twould be best to break the news to Eve when she was in a fair humor.
“Well, I’d nae leave Ronan’s hut a shamble on the morrow,” he said pointedly. He pulled the shirt over his head. When he turned to face Eve once more, she was looking at him with excitement.
“’Tis time, then? We leave for the MacKerrick town?”
Conall braced himself. “Nae, lass. ’Tis to the Buchanan town we hie.”
A door slammed on Eve’s open, easy expression and she immediately directed her gaze to the greens as she began trimming them and then dropping them into a crock. Her mouth was pinched into a frown.
“I’ve told you, MacKerrick, I’ll not go. I’ve not changed my mind, and I won’t.”
“Eve,” Conall sighed, and crouched at her side. He hated when she reverted to addressing him as MacKerrick. “We must. ’Tis my duty as clan chief. You’d nae have me insult your kin, would you?”
“I fail to see why it is of such grave concern, is all,” she said tightly, her movements with the short, broken dagger becoming quick and jerky while she worked. “I am not acquainted with any of them and do not see the good of it. Am I not your wife now? Are you—and the rest of the MacKerrick clan—not my kin? How are the Buchanans to know I even exist unless we tell them?”
Conall could find little fault with her reasoning, save that heneededthe Buchanans to be aware of Eve.
Andher condition.
“’Twould be but a matter of time before word reached them,” Conall reasoned gently. “Peddlers, trade routes—the Buchanan would find out sooner or later, Eve, and how offended would he be to learn that his kin cared so little for her people that she had refused to pay them this small courtesy?” He held out his palms. “Do you wish to have such poor relations with your Scots blood at the start?”
“I care not,” she said succinctly and brushed her hands together over the pot. Grabbing up her now-empty basket, she rose swiftly and moved to replace it on the shelf. “They are strangers to me. The MacKerricks are my only Scots kin.” She whirled to face him. “And why is it so important to you that we go now, any matter? Why not later, after the babe has safely come, hmm?” Her eyes narrowed. “Are you shamed of me, MacKerrick? Do you hope to wheedle some sort of dowry from the Buchanan to increase my worth before you present me to your family? Am I so hideous and uncouth to your proud Scots sensibilities that—”
Eve continued her tirade and Conall rubbed at his eyes with a frustrated sigh. It could not be put off any longer. She must understand.
“—I’ve been schooled in Latin, and not a little cipher—”
“Eve, stop,” Conall commanded.
