Deirdre blinked familiar blue eyes up at her son. “What? Archer men dunnae produce small babes. That is a fact.”
Winnifred pressed a hand to her stomach. She looked at her husband from the corner of her eye. Hewasimmense. Stood a solid eight inches above her own five-foot-nine height. When her mind had worried over the marriage bed, the consideration of how their consequent offspring would fit through her birth canal hadn’t been one of her concerns.
It was now.
“Mother,” Sin gritted out between clenched teeth. “Do not discuss such things with my wife. It is hardly proper.”
“Well.” Deirdre fisted her hands on her rounded hips, looking like a smaller, and feminine version of her son. “Does the proper English miss want a tour of Kenmore, or does she require a wee nap after her travels?”
The disregard in her mother-in-law’s voice should have been cause for concern, but Winnifred’s lips only twitched in response. No one at home spoke with such open disregard. Insults were treacherous, hidden things in England, a hole in the road one could unexpectedly fall into and twist an ankle. Such direct disfavor was … refreshing.
“As a married woman I surely qualify as madam now, but I have no objection to answering to ‘proper English miss’. If you see no issue with prejudging a person based on the group characteristics of nationality, then who am I to disabuse you of such a notion. Many of my fellow Englishmen tend to do the same when speaking of the Scottish. It seems that we’re all more alike than not.”
Deirdre’s eyes narrowed. “Are ye comparing me to the Sassenach?”
A pit opened in Winnifred’s stomach. That had been foolish. She’d let the woman’s impropriety free her own tongue. She snuck a glance at her husband, preparing for his censure.
A raised eyebrow in her direction was his only response.
Winnifred’s racing pulse slowed. Sinclair had said he wanted a free-thinking wife, and perhaps he was sincere. But it wasn’t a theory she should test often. History had shown the results could be disastrous.
Sinclair draped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “I’m glad to know that I don’t have to stand as a guard between you two. My wife is resolute enough to deal with you on her own, mother.”
Winnifred peeked up at him, the last knot in her stomach unraveling. An ember of hope glowed to life behind her breast, but she quickly doused it. Her carelessness hadn’t harmed her this time, but she needed to take better care in the future.
The steward and housekeeper came to stand before them. “Milord,” Tavish said, “there is estate business I need to discuss with ye. Will ye have time to meet this afternoon?”
Sinclair’s body tensed, all former amusement disappearing from his features. “Of course.”
Winnifred titled her head. Perhaps the arrival at Kenmore was challenging for more than just her.
“Let’s retire to my study.” Sinclair turned. “Mother, will you give Winnifred that tour?”
“Of course.” Deirdre lifted her skirts and turned, her back ramrod straight. “Come, Daughter,” she called over her shoulder. “I dunnae have all day for this.”
Winnifred inclined her head to Sinclair and followed after her mother-in-law at a sedate pace.
The woman waited, foot tapping, in the next room. “First thing ye should learn, we move at a quicker pace here in Scotland.”
Winnifred merely gave her a mild smile.
Deirdre huffed. “Now, here we have the great room. It’s used for formal dinners if the guests number over fifty or—”
Deep barking interrupted the description. The sound of paws smacking onto the floor sounded behind Winnifred, and she spun, expecting to see an army of dogs descending. Instead, just two beasts were causing all the commotion.
Two of the largest dogs she’d ever seen.
Charging straight at her.
She stepped back, but it was too late. The first set of thick paws struck her shoulders, and she went down in a tangle of fur and slobber and limbs. She opened her mouth to scream, and the second beast trailed its slimy tongue across her cheek.
She snapped her mouth shut in self-defense.
“Banquo. Horatio.” Deirdre’s voice was fond, but sharp. “Sit down.”
With a whine, the slobbering kisser plopped his bottom down next to Winnifred’s head. The other demon dog stretched out across Winnifred’s stomach and panted. She swore he grinned.
“Good boys,” Deirdre cooed.
