“Active.” Little flutters flickered inside her stomach as if to confirm her statement. The babe had quickened a fortnight ago and had become more insistent on making his presence known. Or hers, as it may be.
“I’m going to the surrounding areas today, including Torish.” Ewan turned her around. “Would ye like to join me?”
She beamed at her husband. She always enjoyed seeing Torish, as he well knew. Not only for the realization that the land had been hers and would pass down to their child. She also enjoyed seeing how the villagers’ lives had improved under Ewan’s leadership. The people were well fed, their homes repaired and their land and livestock better tended.
“I’d love to.” She kissed him. “After I see to the meals for today.”
“Of course.” He grinned. “Can we expect eel?”
She swatted a hand at him playfully. “Ye don’t ever need to expect eel again.”
But her jesting covered an underlying flash of pain at the reminder. For it hadn’t been a mistake with the venison running out, as the cook had said. The servant admitted after Moiré’s death that she had insisted he do it and keep quiet about it. She’d encouraged him to do other nefarious little acts as well, but he’d refused or ensured it was thrown out before it could be eaten. And sadly, he was not the only servant manipulated by Moiré.
All those mistakes Faye thought had been her doing had been Moiré’s hand in an effort to make Faye think she’d been doing a poor job.
It was only a sampling of Moiré’s perfidy. It had been confirmed she was the one behind her uncle’s traitorous acts. The man had been ill for a long time, and she used his seclusion as an opportunity to poison his mind. God rest his soul. Cruim had died the night Ewan escaped from being locked in his uncle’s cellar, upon hearing of his daughter’s death.
Moiré had used him not only to turn men against Ewan but to encourage an alliance with the Gordons, who had agreed to support Cruim in taking the chieftainship, which would have left it open for Moiré upon his impending death. Her depravity knew no depths. Several herbs were found in her room that Sorcha confessed were used to aid in getting rid of pregnancies…and for conceiving. It appeared that while Moiré tried to kill Faye’s child, she was also trying to get with child from her time with Finn. No doubt to force him into a marriage.
Ewan smoothed a lock of hair away from Faye’s brow. “Have I told ye how much it pleases me to see ye so healthy?”
“Every morning.” She kissed him and turned to the ewer to pour fresh water into the bowl. The sickness and exhaustion from the early stages of her pregnancy had dissipated, leaving her practically glowing with energy.
She lifted a fresh square of linen and nudged aside the letter next to it to ensure it didn’t get wet.
Ewan’s eyes caught the movement, and he lifted his brows. “Have ye answered yer grandda yet?”
Faye shook her head and lifted the linen to her face. The cool water swept over her warm cheeks, waking her up fully.
Her grandfather had wanted to come visit as soon as he found she was expecting a child with Ewan. He’d claimed it was to restore their good faith, especially after she had nearly been killed. But while Faye had learned to open her heart to the idea of trust, she was no fool.
After all these years, she finally understood her mother’s decision to keep them from their grandfather. Starving and fighting for life was better than being puppets to a man like him.
A spike of protection for her unborn child jabbed her back straight.
“I don’t want him here,” she replied. “Or near the babe.”
Ewan pulled on his trews and gave a supportive nod. “I think it’s for the best to keep him from our daughter…or son.”
“Any wagers?” Faye asked with an intentional coquettish slide of her eyes to her husband.
His gaze swept down her body. “What will I win if I guess true?”
She loved that he looked at her like that still, hot with attraction and love. “Anything ye like, husband.”
He lifted his brows. “I think ’tis a bonny wee lass like her mum.”
“And I suspect he’s a brawny warrior, like his da.” She ran her fingers down Ewan’s powerful chest.
A quiet knock came at the door connecting their rooms.
Faye bid her maid enter, and Gavina came in with a letter held high in the air. “Yer family has written to ye.”
Faye crowed with excitement and readily took the letter from Gavina with a word of thanks. She cracked open the seal and read through the contents.
But as she read, the smile slipped from her face.
“What is it,” Ewan asked.
Faye shook her head and read through it again. Ewan’s strong arm came around her shoulder. “Faye?”
“’Tis Kinsey,” Faye replied. “She’s left home.”
“Left home?” Ewan frowned. “Where did she go?”
Faye lowered the missive, frightened by the frantic scrawl of her mother’s normally neat script. Her fear and panic were evident in the way she’d written, as she begged Faye to help out in any way possible.
“Kinsey has always been of the mindset that the English deserved to be punished for everything they’ve done to us and Scotland.” Faye put a hand to her chest, but her heart still pounded beneath the letter in her fist. “She’s left to join the fight against England, to reclaim Scottish land.”
“Drake,” Ewan said softly.
Faye nodded as tears brimmed in her eyes. “Drake is employed by Lord Werrick, an English earl, and an English March Warden. If Kinsey is fighting against the English, she’s fighting against my brother. They’re enemies.”
Ewan hugged her to him. “Kinsey wouldna compromise Drake.”
Faye tucked her head against him. “I hope ye’re right.”
“I can send some of my men to yer mum to help,” Ewan said. “But ’tis too long a journey for
