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“You have no cart for transporting.”

They are surprised I’ve devised their occupation so quickly.

“There are others, a half day’s ride ahead.”

Also not surprising as reivers typically travel in packs.

When I let go, reaching for the man’s collar and lifting him to his feet, he glares at me but says nothing.

Sheathing my sword, I reach out my hand to shake his, not wanting enemies on this road.

“I am but one man traveling with my wife,” I say by way of explanation. He looks at it for a moment, and then takes it. His grip around my wrist marks the man a Highlander. When he lets go, I take a risk, but one that will keep Hilla and I safe from these reivers.

Laying my sword on the ground in front of me, though close enough for me to grab, I wait for his reaction.

It is a particular custom of the Highlands, one that leaves a man completely vulnerable. Hilla gasps, but I ignore her. Instead, I wait for the man, a fully bearded one who has seen at least forty summers, to lean down and take my sword.

Handing it to me, he leaves me to sheathe it as he turns back to grab the reins of his mount. By the time we make our way to Hilla, the men have begun to speak again. An understanding between us.

Introducing myself as a minor border lord on his way to find a Garra reputed to be near the town of Reiner, my “wife” Lady Julie stands by, silently watching us. If Hilla is surprised by the reason I give for our travel, she does not show it.

In fact, she aids in my desire to make the men uneasy enough to avoid asking further questions. Not one of the men make eye contact with me or my “wife” after that announcement. Speaking of such matters aloud is absurdly frowned upon. Tis no less objectionable to discuss the Garra so openly. Garra are more accepted in large cities and in places such as Murwood End, but in many, they are relegated to the far-flung edges of society.

She rubs her stomach.

“We are unable to conceive a child,” she says.

Not one of the men make eye contact with me or my “wife” after that announcement.

With that, the leader of the reivers looks to our fire.

“If you’ve a mind to share it, we’ve fresh fowl to offer.”

I’d noticed the kills hanging from his mount.

Hilla and I exchange a glance. At my nod, she welcomes the three men as if they were courtiers and she, the queen. She orders each of us to move rocks and logs, and by the time the men’s horses are fed and watered, the very same man whose throat was in danger of being slashed not long ago sits beside me as we clean our supper.

“How did you do it?” their leader asks me, referring to the way I took down his friend.

Convincing them we are no danger to them after my maneuver is not an easy task.

“An elder in our village taught me that trick,” I say, attempting to dismiss the question.

He eyes me with more suspicion than I’d care for. Mayhap it was a mistake to agree to share the fire, but doing otherwise would not have endeared the men to us. With three here and likely the same number, or more, ahead of us, I’ve no desire to deal with reivers in addition to those hunting down Hilla.

Were I alone, I’d have outrun these reivers already.

We need another mount. I’ll not survive the journey with Hilla’s bottom squirming in front of me, and we will be quicker. Unfortunately, none were to be had in Rimstead.

By the time we eat, the men seem to have forgotten our wayward greeting. Thankfully, their leader confirms what I’d hoped. After the meal, they will be leaving. Reivers most often travel at night, these men no exception.

Their crude humor does not appear to bother Hilla. She addresses them with ease. Laughs at their jests. Does more than I could have on my own to convince the men we’re naught but a man and his wife. No further threat to them.

Until the leader says to Hilla and me, “If you didn’t put so much space between you, a babe might result.”

They all laugh, but his words are duly noted. If Hilla and I are not acting as if we are indeed husband and wife, there is good reason. But the risk to us is too great were these men to develop suspicions about us. Moving closer, at a break in the conversation, I whisper into my “wife’s” ear.

“I am going to kiss you.”