Page 6 of His Stubborn Mate

I sighed, patting my stomach as if I could comfort my unborn child.

As any unwed mother must have felt, upon realizing I was pregnant, I had panicked. How well I remembered those shameful first weeks, praying first that I was wrong, then that the pregnancy might spontaneously end, as mingling human and orc blood should have been impossible.

Because any pregnancy would be extremely problematic for a woman long widowed, such as me…but a pregnancy as a result of my time with Maardok?

It should have been impossible.

Leave it to me to create such an inconvenient miracle.

My lips twitched.

“My little miracle,” I whispered, patting where I imagined the babe’s head to be.

Aye, at first I wished him or her to cease to exist, but now? After carrying the babe for so long, I loved him or her. ‘Twas impossible to deny. No matter how disastrous its existence to the life Ewan and I had carved out, I loved the babe.

And when it arrived—soon, if my counting was correct—I would need to rely on Ewan more than should be expected from any five-year-old, since we were so far from anyone else who could help.

“Mama, I’m tired.”

Ewan lifted the hatchet to his forehead and I realized what he planned a moment before he tried to wipe the sweat from his brow. I lunged forward—twisting something in my back—to snatch the sharp blade from his hand before he could decapitate himself.

“Very well, love. You have done well. After a rest—for both of us—we will gather what we chopped this morning and bring it inside, aye?” We would need it for tonight. “Can you help me up?”

Giggling, Ewan clasped his hands around my wrist and pulled, knowing he couldn’t lift me even if I weren’t huge with child. As he expected, I tugged back, causing him to fall into my arms, and I rolled back to the ground, holding him, both of us laughing.

It felt good.

There was so much worry, so much fear to hold in my heart, and there were so many times I cursed my obstinance in remaining here in this abandoned crofter’s home instead of taking John up on his offer.

But then there was Ewan and the joy he brought me. The joy John would steal, if ‘twere possible.

“I love you, honeybun,” I whispered against Ewan’s hair.

When I pressed a kiss to his temple, he squealed and tried to escape, which of course only made me kiss him again and again.

He finally squirmed free, and I let him go so I could focus on rolling myself to my knees, then carefully stood. Good lad that he was, Ewan hovered nearby—although what he could do if I fell, I couldn’t imagine.

Still, finally, I was upright, and although the sun was hidden by the gray clouds, I knew ‘twas past noon. With a proud huff, I held out my hands to Ewan.

“Pile as much of that kindling as you can here, love. We will carry some in now to warm up as we eat.”

“I’m warm already, Mama.”

Still, he dutifully began to haphazardly hand me sticks to arrange.

“It’s hard work, cutting wood.”

He was so cute when he spoke as if he were full-grown, and my heart simultaneously melted and broke, that such responsibility had been hefted on him.

“I am proud of you, son,” I told him softly.

And his gap-toothed smile made everything worth it.

The croft where we’d been squatting these last months had been abandoned years ago, and we’d done what we could to make it livable. We kept no animals, although I’d tended the overgrown vegetable garden before the frosts began, and our lives were simple enough.

Now I paused before the low doorway, shooing Ewan in first.

“Start up the fire again, lad, and⁠—”