He turned and froze. Not from the weather, but from the eerie glow reaching out to them from across the wood. It flickered down low between a pair of trees like a pure white beacon, coaxing them to follow that path.
“Ah…ye see it now.” Mistress Hanna chuckled and burrowed deeper into the furs. “I leave ye to it then. Wake me when we get there. I dinna wish ye startling Gabriel. I shall need to be the first he sees.”
“Aye,” was all he could say. Marianna didn’t say a word, just stared at the light, her eyes wide and filled with leeriness. He took her hand and gently pulled. “Come, Mejjy.” A knot tightened in his throat. How many times had that teasing endearment won him sweet kisses and even a promise to marry? But its magic had failed him the night he had begged her to believe him instead of the vicious lies about Ellen and her new bairn.
She jerked and stared at him as if he had slapped her. “Mejjy,” she repeated, blinking away the snowflakes caught in her lashes. Her eyes shifted to a darker blue, their hue deepened by a sudden misting of tears. She pulled free of his grasp and tucked her mittened hand to her chest. “Dinna call me that ever again, ye ken?”
“Aye,” he agreed with an apologetic dip of his chin. “Sorry.” Without asking permission, he hoisted her up into the saddle, then took the reins to both horses and trudged toward the wavering light.
After forging onward for what seemed like forever, the strange light disappeared as quick as a snuffed candle. But it didn’t matter. Directly in front of them, squatting between the two largest pines he had ever seen, was a dwelling barely big enough for its short door and shuttered window. An evergreen wreath decorated with pinecones and sprigs of holly hung on a peg above the entrance. Before walking back to the litter, he reached up to help Marianna down. When she hesitated to lean into his hands, he shook his head. “No more, Marianna. Not today. I beg ye.” He stepped closer. “I am far gone weary, lass. Please, can we set aside our hatred for another time?”
“I dinna hate ye,” she said in a hushed tone, then dove forward and rested her hands on his shoulders. She gave him a sad smile that made his heart ache as he lifted her down. “And aye, we can be at peace for a while. Leastwise ’til we get everyone helped. After all, ’tis a holy time of year.”
“Aye, that it is.” Unable to resist, he brushed a finger across the velvety curve of her rosy cheek. She stepped back and wiped away his touch but didn’t scold or fuss. He let his hand fall and headed for the sledge pulled by her mount.
“Mistress Hanna, we are here,” he said, turning away when his voice broke from the pain in his heart.
“So, we are.” The wee matron clapped her hands, her wrinkled face aglow with happiness. “If the two of ye would be so kind as to help me stand, I shall let Gabriel know that good kind folk have come for a visit.”
Once they got her upright and steadied, she motioned toward the left of the small cottage. “Round there, the beasts will be out of the wind. The boughs be thicker back there. Protect them good for the night.” Her face puckered with a quizzical look as she pondered the wide sled. “But yer fine tray may get wedged twixt the trunks and the corner. Best unhitch it and leave it here, aye?”
“I can pull it close to the door in case we need anything from it.” Evander waved the women onward. “Inside with the both of ye. Warm yerselves whilst I settle the horses.” He remembered what she had said about the roof leaking and nodded at it. “Whereabouts should I pile more branches before I come in?” He didn’t look forward to a night trapped inside with Marianna and her ire. If not for the fact that he might freeze to death, he would sooner sleep with the horses.
“Are ye not the kindest lad?” Mistress Hanna smiled and clasped her hands to her chest. She tipped her silvery head toward the right side of the sloping roof. “Just up there, my son. And I thank ye for yer troubles.”
“It isna any trouble.” He released the strapping securing the sled and dragged it over beside the door. “Getting branches for the roof and logs for the fire will warm me. Now, inside with ye both.”
“I can help ye,” Marianna offered, lagging back as Hanna toddled into the ramshackle dwelling. Her fair brows knotted with loving worry that he’d never hoped to see in her eyes again. “Yer cheeks are most nigh frozen, and yer beard’s covered in ice. I fear ye will surely fall ill if ye stay out here much longer.”
He turned away so she wouldn’t see how her words affected him. She shouldn’t say such things. Not after she had told him that she never believed he had ever loved her. As he headed the horses toward their shelter for the night, he forced a smile. “I am fine, lass. Ye can help me by going inside and stoking the fire ’til it roars, ye ken?”
With a downcast quiver of her mouth, she gave a slight nod and headed toward the door. Before ducking to step through it, she turned back. “Dinna be long, aye? I shall set water to heating and get a good hot broth a goin’.”
He dipped his chin and turned away again, dreading the night ahead. Damn the chieftain. And the priest. And his stepfather. Damn them all for cursing him to make this journey with a woman who hated him almost as much as he hated himself.