Brice looked from Caitlin to Sorcha and back. It seemed wrong for him to be there, as though he was eavesdropping on something which had nothing to do with him. He felt acutely uncomfortable all of a sudden. And yet, when he made a move to flee back to the house, Sorcha touched his arm, signaling him to stay.

Caitlin, meanwhile, was as stunned as ever.

Sorcha’s anger softened. “You hadn’t suspected?” she asked.

Caitlin’s shoulders rose in a slight shrug. “I suppose I was too concerned with Rodric’s return to notice. How did you know?”

“You’ve been ill in the morning. The scent of food in the kitchen makes you sick. You’ve been fatigued, as well. Not nearly the energy you once had.”

“This is true. I supposed it was a simple illness,” Caitlin murmured. Her hands crossed over her belly as though she was still absorbing the information she’d just learned.

Sorcha flashed Brice an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry ye had to be here for this,” she murmured. “It’s likely an uncomfortable thing to be hearing about.”

“Nay, nay,” he mumbled. He was terribly uncomfortable but did not want to admit it. “Should Rodric not be here to hear of this?”

“Aye, of course,” Sorcha agreed, since it was clear Caitlin was unable to speak as yet.

Her eyes were strangely unfocused, staring off into the distance, and her mouth hung open slightly in wonder. For a moment—the briefest, slightest moment—he envied her and Rodric. When his friend heard that his family was about to grow, he’d be overjoyed.

Brice wondered what that sort of joy was like. What would it be to love another as Rodric did? Certainly, that love tied him down and slowed him down considerably, but it also gave him something to look forward to. He had a reason to want to go home when a mission was complete.

Brice wondered what he had. What he would ever have.

“I thought I was only a little ill. Something that would pass.” Caitlin looked at her aunt as though desperate to make sense of things. “Are you certain?”

“You would know better than I would,” Sorcha chuckled. “But I’ve known enough women in your condition to recognize the signs.” A note of sadness tinged her voice.

Brice’s heart went out to her—she’d never been able to have children of her own, though she’d been a mother figure to both Rodric and Caitlin in their youth.

Caitlin’s eyes met Brice’s. “Don’t tell Rodric. Please.”

“That is not my place,” he said, holding up both hands. “You might as well pretend as though I was never here.”

“So.” Sorcha’s hands found her hips. “I think it’s well past time to give up the notion of traveling with the men. It simply isn’t meant to be.”

He was certain a miracle had just come his way. It would’ve been all but impossible to refuse her had it not been for Sorcha’s announcement, and there was no telling how long it would’ve taken before Rodric felt secure in leaving her again.

He would keep this observation to himself, as he did so many others. His friends might have seen him as a jester, a lighthearted man who rarely thought beyond the current moment, but they didn’t know what went on in his mind, mainly because he was smart enough to stay silent on much of what he observed.

At that moment, while the three of them walked to the house, he knew better than to share his relief. It wasn’t easy to keep a smile from his face.

Caitlin’s surprise wasn’t the end of the day’s surprises, either.

They were finishing up the midday meal—Caitlin clearly had little interest in what had been laid before her, but to her credit, she tried as hard as she could to eat—when Rodric’s head cocked in the direction of the open door. “Hooves.”

“Thank the heavens,” Fergus muttered before casting an apologetic look Sorcha’s way. “I do not mean to insult ye. Your hospitality has been far too generous.”

“Ye want to be on your way. I would never take offense—and besides, this little house wasn’t built to fit so many strapping men,” she laughed.

“I’ll have more than a few strong words for Quinn. What does he think he’s at, taking so long to join us? The lad had better have a damned good explanation.” Brice rose from the table and went to the door, expecting to see his friend approaching on the black mount which he’d ridden since their return from Drimarben.

It wasn’t Quinn.

“Rodric?” Brice called out over his shoulder. “I believe you’ll want to see this.”

Rodric joined him, chuckling when he recognized his younger brother riding at the front of a trio of men.

One of those men, as it turned out, was Quinn.

“So that’s what took him so long,” Rodric murmured with a shake of his head.

“Better your brother than a brothel full of women.”

“Are you certain of that?” Rodric raised an eyebrow. “As for me, I’ll wait to find out what Padraig wants.”

“What if they simply met up in the village and Padraig wanted to visit, knowing you were here?”

“You don’t know my brother very well,” Rodric chuckled, walking out to greet them. Brice followed, as did Fergus.

“Brother.” Padraig slid from the saddle, clasping Rodric by the arms the moment his feet hit the ground. “I’m glad to see you well.”

“I feel the same,” Rodric assured him. “What brings you here to see us?”

Quinn greeted them. “I’m here, as well. In case you hadn’t noticed.”

“We see enough of you.” Brice smirked. “If anything, it was a relief to be without ye for a while.”

“I met up with your man, Quinn, on the road.” Padraig smiled. “I’d planned to pay a visit to Sorcha soon, but knowing you were here made me decide to visit now.”

“I hear my name being used out here,” Sorcha called out. “Have ye eaten, Padraig Anderson?”

He nodded and waved. “Aye, thank ye. I have a favor to ask of ye, however, just not of that nature.”

“What is it, then?”

Padraig’s look to Rodric was a sad one. “Old Bess has died. A few days ago.”

“I’m sorry to hear it,” Rodric murmured with a sigh. “She kept the house together for longer than either you or I have been alive.”

“Aye, and her loss is quite acutely felt,” Padraig grimaced. “I’m sorry to say the place has all but fallen apart, and not merely because the rest of the household mourns her loss. She was a good, efficient woman, but loath to share her methods with even those she trusted.”

“What is it you’re wanting from me, then?” Sorcha approached. “Surely, you don’t think me up to the task of running a great house such as yours.”

“You’re the first person who came to mind, and the only one I trust enough to even suggest this.” His brow creased in deep lines. “I realize the troubles between my clan and the McAllisters may sway ye against me—"

The older woman dismissed this with a wave of her hand. “Bah! I care little for those concerns, especially since my niece is safe and happy. Besides, she is now wed to your brother, which makes you kin to me.”

Was it Brice’s imagination, or did Padraig seem to brighten a bit at her words? It was clear to him that everyone in Sorcha’s acquaintance held her in high esteem, and thus took to heart her endorsement.

His grin was a bit roguish. “Will you help me, then? As we are, in fact, kin to one another?”

“Ah, I see what you’re about,” she grinned. “Fine, then. If you believe me to be up to the task, I would be more than glad to help ye. However, I would not be coming alone. You know your new sister is living with me while your brother rides off on his missions or whatever he calls them.”

Rodric merely glowered at the tone she took. He knew better than to raise a protest.

“My new sister is welcome,” Padraig assured her. “I’m certain the household would be a happier one for her presence.”

“And you’ll have much less to concern yourself over,” Brice pointed out, nudging Rodric with his elbow. “Now more than ever, that’s important.”

“Why now more than ever?” Rodric turned to him.

Brice. You’ve gone and done it now.

Nothing had been mentioned during dinner of the child Caitlin carried. He’d so prided himself on watching his words up to that point.

“Why now more than ever?” Rodric asked again, though Brice was no better able to answer his question than he’d been the first time. He looked about himself, hoping to be saved.

Sorcha gritted her teeth, tilting her head to the side with a harsh sigh. “Aye, you’re one to keep a matter to yourself, aren’t ye?” Judging by the look on her face, she might have slapped him upside his head if he were close enough.

“What have I missed?” Rodric demanded.

Caitlin went to him, taking his hand in hers. “I believe there is something we ought to discuss.”

* * *

“Do ye think she’ll forgive me for blurting it out like that?” Brice asked, wincing at the memory of how foolish he had been.

“Aye. Rodric may not, however.” Fergus laughed.

“I wouldn’t worry over it much.” Sorcha sighed, patting him on the back in passing. “It isn’t as though ye told the whole story, and besides, she needed the push to tell him before the four of you leave again. At least, as you say, Rodric will be able to rest more easily knowing she’s safe under his family’s roof.”

They sat outside, in the outskirts of the meadow, the grasshoppers and frogs making ceaseless noise on the banks of the river as the sun sank lower every moment.

When the door opened, and Rodric stepped out, grinning a little drunkenly though he hadn’t touched a drop, they chuckled as one.

“It’s been quite the day for announcements,” he shrugged as he approached. “I must admit, I’m not altogether certain which way is up at the moment.”

“This way.” Fergus grinned, pointing his finger up at the darkening sky.

“Thank you.” Rodric cuffed him about the head.

“I should go in now,” Sorcha announced, brushing grass from her kirtle as she stood. “I have some packing up to do if we’re to leave in the morning.”

She joined Caitlin inside, leaving the four of them alone.

“Which reminds me. We didn’t have the chance to discuss what you found in the village,” Fergus said, looking to Quinn. “Is there anything for us?”

“Aye, of course.” Quinn shook himself a bit. “I’d forgotten. Yes, there is a possible task we’ve been asked to complete, though it leaves me wondering whether you’ll wish to accept.”

“What is it, then?” Brice asked.

“The Stewart clan has a daughter about to be wed to an English earl,” he explained, spitting on the ground at the mention of the English. “The earl wishes his bride to be escorted from Stewart lands, not far from Lockerbie, across the border and into Earl Remington’s protection.”

“Lockerbie? That alone will take at least a week,” Rodric observed, rubbing his chin as he thought it through.

“Where is the earldom located?” Brice asked.

“Near Carlisle.” Brice was familiar enough with the lands bordering Scotland to know Carlisle sat along the River Eden, which they would be able to follow from Solway Firth.

“It’s quite a journey,” Fergus mused.

“Which I was certain to bring up, and old Murphy was well aware of it. His man swore that the earl promised to reimburse those who accepted the mission for the entirety of the journey, including the expense of traveling to Lockerbie.”

“And we’re to take him at his word?” Fergus looked doubtful.

“Have ye ever known Murphy or any of those he does business with to be unreliable?” Quinn countered.

Fergus nodded his concession.

“What say ye?” Brice looked to Rodric.

Would he wish to be away from Caitlin for so long? Not only was the journey to Lockerbie a long one, but it would take days to reach the earldom before riding back.

Rodric’s eyes shifted in the direction of Sorcha’s little house. He didn’t need to explain where his loyalties were at that moment.

“I say we go. As soon as possible, in fact.” He grinned. “After all, I have a family to provide for now.”