Page 11 of Hunting for a Highlander (Highland Brides 8)

That decided her. Dwyn loved peaches and she hadn’t eaten much at dinner, so she continued climbing until she could settle on the branch across from him. The very same branch she’d been on when he found her there earlier, she realized. And he was on the branch he’d claimed earlier too, she thought, and wondered if he’d kiss her again as she watched him untie a heavy sack that hung from a thick branch just above him.

“What would ye like first?” Geordie asked, setting the sack in his lap and opening it to peer inside.

“Whatever’s on top,” Dwyn said with a shrug, and watched as he reached in and pulled out a chicken leg. Smiling, she accepted the offering and took a bite as she watched him pull out a second leg for himself.

“Legs are me favorite,” Geordie announced, adjusting the sack so that it was safe in his lap and not likely to tumble off.

“Mine too,” Dwyn admitted after swallowing what was in her mouth. “Dark meat is always moist.”

“Aye,” he agreed, and then fell silent as they ate their chicken. He was done with his leg first, but waited until she finished and then held out his hand.

Dwyn hesitated, but when his fingers wiggled in a “give it here” motion she gave him the stripped chicken bone and watched him toss both her bone and his toward the wall. She saw them sail through the branches unhindered, but wasn’t sure they’d made it over the wall until a wet splash reached her ears. They’d landed in the moat beyond the wall.

“Ah. Cheese and bread.”

Dwyn glanced back toward him, but it had grown darker while they ate and he was just a dark shadow in front of her.

“Put yer hand out,” he instructed, apparently understanding the problem.

Dwyn reached out, felt his hand bump hers, and then he placed a hunk of bread and a smaller hunk of cheese in her palm. She pulled them toward herself, murmuring, “Thank ye.”

“Me pleasure,” Geordie assured her, and she heard a rustle as he dug in the bag again.

“So, tell me, do ye often hang about in trees?” Geordie asked lightly as he resituated the bag in his lap.

She smiled faintly at the teasing question, but pointed out, “You were here first.”

“This time,” he agreed.

Dwyn shrugged, but then realizing he might not have seen that in the darkening night, she said, “Aye. I like trees. They do no’ pinch me cheeks to try to force color into them, and make me wear dresses better suited to a lightskirt.”

Geordie laughed at that, a very nice, deep rumble of sound that made her grin and shiver all at once. When his laughter faded, he said, “Una seems . . .”

“Pushy?” she suggested, and then added, “Bossy? Bold?”

“Aye,” he chuckled. “She certainly had no problem making Catriona and Sasha move along the bench to make room for her and Aileen to sit beside ye.”

“Aye,” Dwyn agreed, and explained, “Una is very protective of me, which is strange, because I took over mothering her when her own mother died. I was always the one protecting her then. But now, the roles seem to have reversed and she natters after me like she is the mother.”

“Ye said her own mother?” he queried. “Do ye no’ have the same mother?”

Dwyn shook her head, and then said, “Nay. Me mother died when I was six.”

“How did she die?” Geordie asked, his voice sounding solemn.

“Trying to birth me little brother or sister,” she said sadly. “After me she lost several babes ere they were full ready to be born, but this one survived to the birthing. Unfortunately, the healer said it was turned wrong inside her. Mother labored for three days trying to push the babe into the world and just could no’ do it. She died with it still in her.”

“I’m sorry,” Geordie said softly.

“So am I,” Dwyn admitted solemnly. “She was a good mother and I missed her terribly. But about a year later Father married Una and Aileen’s mother, Lady Rhona. She was kind to me. Una was born nine months after that, and Aileen followed two years later. Unfortunately, Lady Rhona died a couple days after Aileen was born. An infection, the healer said.”

“From the birth,” Geordie said without a hint of doubt, and then clucked his tongue impatiently. “So many women die while trying to bring new life into the world. ’Tis how most men lose their wives.”

“And most women lose their men to battle,” Dwyn pointed out quietly.

“But me brother Rory says many o’ the women die unnecessarily. That it’s ignorance and a lack o’ cleanliness that cause the death.”

“And ye do no’ think death in battle could be avoided?” she asked dryly. “If you men were no’ so eager to rush off to battle, we’d lose a lot less men.”

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