Page 6 of Love’s Charity

“Then deal with it when it comes to pass.” Mistress Hanna’s tone became stern, and her smile disappeared for the first time since they had found her. “Ye waste today, lass. Fritter away yer life with worries about what might happen. Dinna miss out on life’s joys and possibilities by drowning in thewhat if’sof tomorrow.”

“I should call Evander. He needs to come inside and warm himself.” Mistress Hanna could preach at him and leave her in peace. She rushed to the door and shot outside without a thought of grabbing a fur to add to the warmth of her cloak. “Evander!”

No answer came other than the wind moaning through the trees.

She pulled her hood closer and squinted into the stinging snow and sleet. It had grown almost impossible to see in the night. Her chest tightened as she looked all around and saw nothing but cold, bleak darkness. Fear sank its claws into her heart and twisted. Could he be lost? Strayed too far and couldn’t find his way back? All because he dreaded being trapped inside with her?

“Evander!” she shouted again, drawing out his name for as long as her wind allowed.

With one hand sliding along the side of the cottage, she worked her way around its perimeter, straining to see into the night and shouting his name over and over. A gulping sob escaped her when she touched the door and realized she had made it full circuit without finding him. She fell to her knees in the snow. “Evander, please—please find yer way back to me. Dinna be lost.”

“I am here, lass.”

The deep ring of his voice made her cry out and unleashed her tears. Relief flooded her with more emotions than she could bear.

Evander dropped the armload of wood and grabbed her up to his chest, shushing and rocking as though she were a wailing bairn. “There now, Mejjy m’love. Dinna cry. What’s wrong, dear one? What is wrong?” He cupped her face in his cold hand and bent to peer into her eyes. “Did the old woman die?”

“Nay,” she sobbed. “I couldna find ye. I feared ye lost forever.” After another keening wail she couldn’t control, she pleaded, “Please, come inside with me. Please. Come inside now.”

“Aye, m’love. Dinna fash yerself. I shall come inside. Calm yerself.” Still holding her close, he ushered her in and closed the door behind them.

“Is she hurt? I heard her cries.” Mistress Hanna set the cat on the floor and rose from her chair. “Here,” she said, pointing at it. “Get her here closer to the fire and have her sit.”

“Nay, I am fine.” Marianna pushed back the hood of her cloak and brushed off her skirts. “I am fine now that Evander is safe inside.” Another loud hiccupping gulp made her catch a hand to her chest. “Oh dear, forgive me.”

Mistress Hanna beamed with a smile that lit the whole room. “Let us all warm ourselves and enjoy each other’s company then.” She waved them forward. “Come, gather close to the fire. It has been so long since Gabriel and I had a good visit with anybody.”

“I must fetch the wood inside.” Evander turned back to the door, then stopped when he noticed a large pile of dry logs neatly stacked beside it.

The sight of the firewood pushed Marianna back a step. Overtaken by a fit of coughing, she thumped her chest, choking on pure surprise. She had used the last of the wood, fed it to the cheery fire now crackling in the hearth. She was certain of it.

“Mejjy?” He took hold of her and led her to the pallet. “Sit ye down. Has the ague grabbed a hold on ye, lass?”

Standing slightly behind Evander, Mistress Hanna arched a brow and made the barest shake of her head.

Who on earth was this woman? A witch, perhaps? Gabriel rubbed back and forth against her skirts, rumbling with a loud purring as though trying to shush her.

She shuddered in a deep breath and managed a smile. “Nay, I am quite fine. I promise. The shock of the cold must’ha hit me with a coughing spell.”

“Are ye certain?” He knelt in front of her with worry darkening the richness of his brown eyes. The concerned tip of his head and caring in his voice made her want to wail all over again.

Instead, she cleared her throat and patted her chest. “Aye, I am well. Promise.” She held tight to his hand, knowing she shouldn’t. She had already gravely erred by showing how much she worried after him. “I should check supper,” she said, releasing him as she rose from the pallet.

With a subdued nod, he stepped back, shed his coat, and hung it on a peg by the door. He drew closer to the fire, holding his hands toward the warmth. “The stew smells finer than fine, Mejj-Marianna.”

The fact that he had almost used the pet name again, then corrected himself, didn’t escape her. She hadn’t minded when he used it outside even though she had told him not to. But now, hearing him stop himself in accordance with her wishes made her heart hurt. She prayed for the wisdom and strength to get through this.

“It does smell wondrous,” the smiling crone added as if to nudge Marianna from her inner torment.

She shook herself free of her thoughts and said, “We shall see.” Hopefully, the salted meat wouldn’t be so strong as to gag them all. Testing a chunk of carrot with her knife, she smiled. “Verra soon. By the time I finish the fried bread, ’twill be done.”

“Fried bread?” Mistress Hanna repeated. “Did ye hear that, Gabriel? How long has it been since we were treated to fried bread?”

The sleek black cat flipped its tail with a hard flop, then licked his paw and smoothed his whiskers, as though tidying himself up for the meal.

Instead of sitting, Evander rummaged through the pockets of his heavy coat, found a flask, and grinned. His straight white teeth shone like pearls in his windburned face. “The MacCoinnich sent two of these for the MacGougans, but I reckon they can do with the one ’til I can get them more. I’ll fetch them a whole keg come spring.”

“Whisky?” Marianna wrinkled her nose. She had never been much for the stronger spirits.

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