Page 13 of His Stubborn Mate

Ewan and Maardok returned a short time later, bursting into the small hut with a gust of snow-scented frigid air and laughter and excitement.

“Mama, Mama! Guess what Maardok brought us!”

For his part, the male glared sternly at me, his shoulders heaped with bags and bundles.

“Sit down, Cataline. Ye’re supposed to be resting.”

I dropped the last of the parsnip into the pottage and smiled wearily.

“I’m restfully cutting vegetables for the pottage, but…”

I gratefully sank into the chair with a sigh. The bairn was kicking me again and my lower back ached.

“Mama! Maardok brought us bread! And honey!” Ewan bounced at my side, throwing his arm around my neck. “Mama is too tired to bake bread most days!”

Maardok nodded sternly as he divested himself of his burden.

“She’s no’ going to lift a finger now that I’m here, lad. She needs to save her strength for the bairn.”

My eyes filled with tears again. It must be that same bairn making me as weepy as I was tired. I couldn’t ask him to stay with us, and if he knew the truth, he’d feel obligated, wouldn’t he?

“All will be well, dkaar,” he murmured gruffly, spreading honey and butter across a thick slice of brown bread. “Dinnae fash. Here.”

Our fingers brushed when I took the treat from him, and I did my best to ignore the spark which shot up my arm. I was about as successful as I’d been earlier, when I’d pulled him down for a kiss. That had been delicious, to taste him once more, that delightfully ridged tongue stroking mine and reminding me of other ways he knew how to use it…

I was silent as I enjoyed the special treat, and I hoped it seemed I was merely savoring it instead of trying to keep my tears from falling.

In only a few weeks, I would have to birth this babe alone. I knew I could do it; I was too stubborn to die and leave Ewan alone. But having someone to help here would have been nice…

In the weeks after Ewan’s birth, Richard had been practically useless; flustered and uncertain. At the time, I’d thought it sweet, but now I realized that I couldn’t ever remember him forcing me to rest and conserve my strength. Couldn’t remember him making me a special treat just because he knew I would enjoy it.

And I couldn’t remember him ever treasuring Ewan the way Maardok seemed to.

But Ewan’s future was uncertain with no inheritance, no family name to protect him in our harsh world. When Maardok left, I couldn’t allow Ewan to expect to be treated like a treasure by another male.

Richard had a specific way of thinking of his son. He would vacillate between cherishing the lad and holding him at arms’ length. Although my husband had always refused to speak of his childhood or his life before meeting me, I suspected his own father had treated him one extreme or the other, and he was never certain what to do with Ewan.

Maardok didn’t have that concern, though.

In fact, as the lad finished his second piece of bread, Maardok scooped him up.

“Ye need to wash yer face and yer hands, laddie, else the bugs will carry ye off to lick ye!”

Ewan laughed as he was carted to the ewer. “All the bugs are sleeping through the winter now. Mama!” he called over his shoulder. “The snow is starting!”

“Perfect time for a nap,” Maardok announced, carrying Ewan toward the bed. “No’ ye, yer mother.”

He folded down the blankets and beckoned me. “Come lie down, Cataline.”

A nap sounded…heavenly. With a groan for my aching back, I stood and shuffled closer, but when I saw Maardok watching me with concern, forced a smile.

“Just for a few minutes.”

“A story!” Ewan declared, pouting against the pillows. “I won’t sleep unless⁠—”

“Nay, lad,” Maardok said sternly, hovering as I stretched out with another involuntary groan. “Ye tell yer mother the story as she rests her eyes. I’ll be back with meat in a few hours.”

He brushed his fingers over my cheek, his expression gentling. “Dinnae lose faith in me, my firebrand.”