The thought knotted his gut. Witches and ravens. The old man’s words would plant roots in the minds of even the bravest. And if his men discovered that his new wife carried one hidden among her menagerie… suspicion would flare, and whispers would grow.
He cast a glance at Fawn. She rode steady beside him, her chin high, her eyes forward, not to draw attention to her or the baskets..
Best they never know, he thought grimly… for her sake.
The village stirredwith late-day bustle as Rhodes led the party through its snow-packed lanes. Children still played in the drifts, their laughter ringing clear as they tumbled and rolled, oblivious to the cold. Smoke curled from chimneys, richer now with the scent of roasted meat as the evening meal neared. Men called to one another as they stabled horses, while women hurried about with baskets, cloaks drawn tight against the biting air.
Fawn took it all in, her heart divided between the village’s simple cheer and the baskets strapped to the horses behind them. She glanced at Rhodes, her voice steady, though her hand unconsciously brushed Sprig’s head.
“Where may I make a home for my animals and those that come after them?” she asked, reminding him that she would continue her work with the forest animals.
Rhodes did not answer at once. Instead, his eyes lifted, scanning the keep as it loomed above them. Fawn followed his glance, her breath catching when she saw where he looked. The turret that rose above the north corner, its windows catching the waning light of the day.
“It’s private,” he said at last. “Spacious enough. And well apart from the halls and chambers, it should suit you and your creatures.”
Her lips curved into a sudden, radiant smile, and her heart soared with relief. “I could kiss you for this.”
His mouth twitched, dark eyes holding hers. “Not now but soon.”
Heat stole into her cheeks at the promise in his tone, but before she could answer, they reached the keep steps. And she was too eager to see the room to carry on with the conversation.
Rhodes dismounted, handing off his reins to a young lad waiting to take them. Then he went to his wife and reached up, taking hold of her by the waist, and lifting her with ease off the horse.
How a simple touch could stir her senses, she didn’t know but it did. And the sudden thought of coupling with him again brought a bit of heat to her cheeks.
Rhodes lowered his head to whisper, “I will see to that need of yours soon.”
Instead of denying it, arguing that she had no need, she tilted her chin and said, “Make sure that you do.” Then she swept past him, grabbing the basket with the raven in it and climbed the keep steps.
A slight smile touched his lips and damn if his loins didn’t stir, but then they had been stirring since this morning when Boyce interrupted them. He’d let her settle her animal friends. and then she was all his. And he had distinct plans for the night ahead with her.
Rhodes turned to his men. “You will take the baskets and follow me up to the north turret. And you will be careful carrying them.”
He knew his wife had taken the raven herself for fear of someone seeing the bird. He would have done so if she hadn’t, after what that lunatic man said about witches and ravens. He had no doubt his men were eager to spread the news of the man’s ridiculous rantings. He wished he could prevent it but ordering them not to speak of it would only create more of a problem. He’d let gossip spread and die on its own.
The men set about unloading the baskets and other items and followed Rhodes into the keep, where Fawn waited in the Great Hall. He took the basket from her and led the way. Fawn following behind him and his men behind her.
At the top, he pushed the heavy oak door open. Warmth spilled out, the glow of firelight flooding the landing.
She stepped inside and aside to allow the men entrance as her eyes swept the chamber. The space was larger than she had expected—airy and self-contained, with tall windows now shuttered against the fading light and cold night. A fire blazed in the wide, stone hearth, throwing a steady warmth. Two chairs were drawn close to the fire, and she imagined her and Rhodes sitting there talking while the cold whipped at the shutters. Tables of varying sizes filled the room, sturdy and waiting to be put to use. Neatly stacked baskets, crocks, cloths, and blankets sat atop them, ready for whatever she might need.
With a tilt of her head, she saw exactly where Sage would perch on the rafters and where Bramble and Willow would flutter along a beam. And there was a perfect spot for Ash near the hearth and a chest that would make a perfect nest for Rook.
She felt Sprig stir in the pouch, and she ran her hand gently over his head. “We are at our new home, Sprig.”
He peeked out, peered around, then jumped out of the pouch and made his way to a basket near the hearth, a soft blanket bundled in it, and claimed it as his own.
Fawn smiled, knowing Rhodes had had a hand in that. Actually, in all of it. She had thought he had forgotten about his promise to her, and yet he had created a home for her friends.
Her mum had been wrong. She had wed a good-hearted man whom she could love, if she didn’t already. A thought that brought her joy.
Behind her, Rhodes set down the raven’s basket with deliberate care, his presence filling the space as surely as the firelight.
She leaned back against him and his arm slipped around her waist, drawing her closer as his men delivered the last of her belongings.
“This was kind of you, Rhodes. I am grateful,” she said softly.
“See it as you will,” he said after the last of his men left, shutting the door behind him. “To me, it was a way of making sure my wife stayed where she belonged.”
