It was one room, large enough to hold a narrow bed and a small table. A chest sat at the end of the bed, and pegs in the wall held a cloak and a nightdress.
“This doesn’t look big enough for both of us,” Burke remarked upon entering.
“It’s not,” Storm advised.
“I’m not leaving your side and don’t—”
“Follow me,” she instructed and walked out of the room around the walkway that circled the thick tree trunk to enter another room similar to hers, though it contained only a single bed and small bench with a candle on it.
Burke tried out the bed and shook his head. “This bedding needs stuffing.”
“That’s something that will keep you busy.”
“There’s that sense of humor of yours again,” he chided with a smile.
“We all pull our weight here,” Storm said seriously.
“You won’t find me slacking. I’ll do what’s necessary, though a good commander uses the talents of his troop and doesn’t waste them on petty things.”
“Which is why you’ll be joining Malcolm to hunt for food today.”
Burke nodded. “Now you’re using my talents wisely. What about my brother? Shouldn’t we see to sending the men right away?”
“I’ll see to it.”
“I want to be there when you talk with the men you send.”
“It’s not necessary,” Storm said and turned to leave.
He grabbed her arm and swung her around.
“It’s necessary to me. I want to know whom you send. I want to hear their plans and offer advice if called for.”
“We’ve been through this. Leave me to my talents as I leave you to yours.” She reached out, placing her hand over his. “If it is your brother, my men will bring him back.”
Burke relented. “I should find Malcolm and go hunting.”
“A wise choice. Have him also take you to Janelle. She will supply you with clothing while she repairs your garments.”
“You have a seamstress?” Burke asked with a laugh.
“She is Tanin’s mother and a healer and excellent with a needle.”
“You have no talents with a needle?”
Storm had once enjoyed stitching garments for her husband and herself and was quite skillful with a needle. Daniel had remarked that she should start stitching baby garments, for it wouldn’t be long before a wee one was on the way.
She had started a wee garment, in hope that it would soon be needed, just the day before her life had plunged into darkness.
“Storm?”
She shook the painful memories from her head. “I have no time to stitch.”
He pulled her slowly toward him. “You should rest.”
“No time.” His brown eyes reminded her of the rich earth. She had loved to dig in the soil with her hands when planting her garden. It was almost as if she could feel its potent fertility.
That’s how it felt looking into his brown eyes—potent and fertile.
