Boyce grinned. “Your ego needs no stroking, my lord.”
“So now you tell me I have a huge ego?” Rhodes asked with a smirk.
Boyce quickly turned his glance on the cottage. “Why does your wife linger so long. We waste the morning and possibly miss our men returning with news.”
Rhodes didn’t utter a word, he simply took strong steps to the cottage.
Warmth and the scent of herbs wrapped around him as soon as he entered. Fawn stood in the center of the room, her hair loose about her shoulders, slipping off the linen apron that covered her garments. She tossed it on the table and bent to stroke Ash, then lifted her face to the rafters where the doves cooed, her voice gentle and low.
“You’ll all be safe,” she said to them as if speaking to children. “I’ll return today, I promise. We’ll go to the keep together, to our new home.”
Rhodes’s mouth hardened. He lifted her cloak from its peg by the door, strode forward, and draped it firmly over her shoulders.
“No more delays,” he said, his voice edged with a stern command.
Before she could protest, he scooped Sprig up from the table where the kitten had nested on the discarded apron, dropped him into the pouch stitched to her cloak, and settled the folds over him. Sprig poked his head out with a soft mewl, eyes bright.
With a firm grip on Fawn’s arm, Rhodes turned her toward the door. “It’s time.”
She looked back once, her gaze sweeping over her friends, certain she saw worry in their eyes.
“I’ll return for you,” she called out fiercely.
Then, with her husband’s unrelenting hand guiding her, she was forced from the cottage into the waiting cold.
CHAPTER 16
The heavy doors of the Great Hall closed behind them, the warmth within a welcome rush after the bitter wind. Torches burned along the walls, throwing golden light over the long tables where the morning meal had only just ended. The air still carried the savory scent of broth and bread mingled with the tang of pine logs snapping in the hearth.
Rhodes guided Fawn forward, his hand a steady weight at the small of her back. She stiffened slightly at his touch but did not pull away.
“You’ll remain close,” he said under his breath, his tone more warning than request.
Her chin tilted upward. “And when will we return to the cottage?”
He studied her then, not her face, but the quiet intensity with which she asked, the way her fingers brushed Sprig’s small head where he peeked from her cloak. She spoke not of gowns or keepsakes, but of creatures who relied upon her care. It struck him fully in that moment, her heart tethered itself more to a fox, an owl, and a handful of winged strays than to any possession. They were her kin as much as her clan would ever be.
“Soon,” he said at last.
The word softened something in her, though her eyes still held fire.
Before she could press further, he called across the room.
“Boyce. With me.” The words left no room for delay, and together the two men departed toward the solar.
Fawn lingered a moment by the hearth, Sprig purring in his pouch. Then, not able to remain confined inside, she slipped quietly away.
Snow blanketed the village in dazzling white, the sun still hidden behind pale clouds. Men worked with shovels, clearing the main paths between cottages, their voices carrying as they called to one another. Children tumbled and shrieked in play, rolling snow and tossing it until their laughter rang through the cold air.
Fawn slowed her steps, her lips curving despite herself. For all of Rhodes’s stern command, his people lived with a kind of ease, smiles ready even in the winter chill.
“Fawn!”
Sara waved from where she stood outside her cottage, cheeks rosy from the cold, her hand resting protectively on the curve of her belly. Fawn went to her at once, Sprig poking his head from her cloak as though eager to greet Sara too.
“You look well,” Sara said, her eyes bright with curiosity. “And after your wedding night, I would expect nothing less. Tell me, did he surprise you?”
Heat rushed to Fawn’s cheeks. “Sara!”
