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“Dinnae wash these bowls,” he announced sternly as he dropped the spoon he’d been sharing with Ewan into his bowl. “I’ll do that when we get back from cleaning out the barn for the horse.”

He turned a mock glare to Ewan, who was loving the attention of being perched on the male’s knee.

“Lad, ye’re going to help me—nay, dinnae argue with me, ‘tis for yer own good!”

Since Ewan had been nodding eagerly, likely delighted by the change in routine, he giggled. And my heart simultaneously soared and clenched to hear the carefree sound, aching to ensure he could giggle like that every day.

So I was quiet as I drifted behind them out the front door, wrapping my shawl tightly around myself. My gaze went to the horizon, where the dark clouds were closer. Aye, there’d be snow by tonight, I was certain of it.

Ewan laughed as he wrestled with the horse’s reins, and I couldn’t hear Maardok’s low instructions, but I saw the way my son straightened and nodded firmly, leading the horse to the barn which I knew was filled with trash and old hay. Hopefully there’d be enough space and perhaps a mouthful for the animal.

But Maardok noticed me watching and frowned, then veered to stop in front of me. How was he not frozen in just that kilt, so much green skin on display for the winter air?

“Cataline, ye ken ye can trust me, aye?”

Shocked, my gaze slammed up to his, and I wasn’t sure how to respond. Because aye, I did trust him, although I’d known him for such a short amount of time. I’d trusted the kindness I’d seen in his dark eyes and the gentleness I’d felt in his touch.

I’d trusted him enough to let him into my home, to welcome him into my body… My hands cupped beneath my belly.

And look where that trust got you.

Still, I couldn’t regret our fortnight together. So I nodded hesitantly.

“Aye,” I whispered for good measure.

His hand rose and brushed against my cheek, and I realized he was tucking a strand of hair away from my skin.

“Then ye ken ye can trust me with Ewan,” he said gently. “I’ll never do aught to harm the lad, or ye. Go rest, dkaar. We’ll be back inside before ye ken we’re gone, and there’s nae need for ye to hover if ye believe he’s safe with me.”

Maardok wasn’t John. He wasn’t any of the men who’d spat such hateful things at me as they’d chased us from town. He wasn’t even Richard, who’d tried to do his best. Maardok wasn’t a man at all, but an orc; a monster I should be afraid of, but whom I trusted.

I couldn’t seem to form the words, so I turned and scurried back inside, praying I wasn’t making another mistake in trusting him.

With a sigh, I pulled out another parsnip from the store box—trying not to think how dangerously low our supplies were getting—and began to chop it to add to the pottage.

If we rationed what we had, we should be able to survive the bairn’s first month, but then I would have to walk to a town for supplies and mayhap shelter, depending on how bad the snows hit. On the other hand, the snows themselves would determine if I’d be able to make the journey, leaving sweet Ewan with his younger sibling.

The parsnip and the knife blurred beneath my hold, and I realized tears gathered in my eyes. I squeezed them shut, willing them back with the same strength I’d relied on for so long.

I was just so damnably tired of having to be strong.

Why did you hide the truth from Maardok?

If I’d told him ‘twas his son or daughter I carried, would he stay with us through the winter? Did I want that? To feel the guilt of his banishment from his home, as well as my own?

I was afraid. I could admit that. Afraid of what I would see on his face the moment I told him the truth. Would it be disbelief? Would he think I was lying about this babe’s parentage to manipulate him?

He said he’d spoken with John. That meant the bastard would have filled his head with the same lies he told the townspeople and the priest, which had resulted in me being banished as a pregnant widow.

Nine months ago, I’d been untouched since Richard’s death, but Maardok had needed a place to stay out of sight, and his kisses and touches had been so persuasive. I hadn’t regretted the choice at the time—a widow deserved a bit of fun—and even with the result, I couldn’t regret it now.

So why didn’t I tell him the truth?

Because he’d already stated he planned to leave in a sennight. I knew from last time that the orc world was only accessible once a moon’s cycle, and he couldn’t miss that window. He would go back to his home and wouldn’t have to find out about the secret I kept from him.

But the thought of him leaving, of losing him again even after these few hours with his laughter and comfort, made the tears leak from my eyelids.

It would have been so nice to be able to lean on him. Would have been nice to rely on him.