The Hunter (Highland Guard #7)(87)

On the heels of her own “pregnancy,” Janet had never felt the absence of children in her life so acutely. Of course, there were times over the years when she’d thought of a child—of what she would be giving up by taking the veil—but given that a child required a husband, and considering the importance of the work she was doing, it seemed a small price to pay. In the abstract, perhaps it was. But it didn’t feel so small right now, sitting with a beaming pregnant woman on one side and the man she’d just realized she loved on the other.

It felt like something she wanted. With him. Children. Cozy nights before the fire. Loving glances and tender touches. She wanted what the Wallaces had.

She knew what that meant. Marriage.

She waited for a few seconds to react to the word, but the usual bad taste did not rise to the back of her mouth. It must be love, she thought with a wry smile. With Ewen, a happy marriage seemed possible.

She knew there were complications. The king for one, her work for another. Robert was probably the easier of the two. If Ewen was indeed in his secret guard as she suspected, that would help. Ewen wouldn’t like the idea of her continuing her work, but he understood how important it was to her. He wasn’t like her father and brother—he wouldn’t try to stick her in some box. He valued her—he’d told her as much. If he loved her, they would find a way to make it work—like Magnus and Helen.

She’d finally met a man who was strong enough to let her be herself. His force of will might be a lot quieter than hers, but it was just as strong. There would be battles between them, aye, but she was looking forward to them.

Of course, she wasn’t the only one who needed to be convinced that it was a good idea. He wanted her, of that she had no doubt, and he cared for her—he’d admitted as much. But did he want to marry her? He’d said it was impossible, but what if it wasn’t?

Her gaze slid to the man in question. He was locked in a quiet conversation with Robert Wallace about the war, while Janet and Margaret finished their meal—the latter pretending not to listen to the men’s discussion.

“Are we talking loud enough for you, wife? I wouldn’t want you to miss any of our private conversation,” Robert said, looking up. His expression was chastising, but his eyes were soft as they fell upon his wife.

Margaret didn’t miss a beat. “That is quite considerate of you, Robert. I’m sure it is all beyond my poor woman’s understanding, but if you could speak a little louder that might help.”

Her eyes danced as she leaned down and whispered to Janet, “Although I’d hardly qualify the exchange of a few words and the occasional grunt a conversation. I don’t know which of them is worse.”

Janet burst out laughing.

Robert’s eyes narrowed on his wife. “What is so funny?”

Margaret smiled and gave Janet a wink as she stood from the table. “I’m afraid it is private.”

Robert shook his head, but Janet didn’t miss the small smile as he turned back to his conversation with Ewen.

Margaret started clearing the platters from their meal. When Janet rose to help, she ordered her back to her seat. “You are a guest,” she said, and then in a whisper, “Besides, you must tell me if they say anything interesting.”

Janet smiled conspiratorially. “I shall do my best. But ‘interesting’ is probably more than we can hope for.”

Margaret chuckled. “You’re probably right. How about this: try not to fall asleep.”

“I make no promises,” Janet said. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve felt so comfortable. You have a lovely home, Margaret.”

She could see how much the comment pleased the other woman. “I think you saw the apple tart.”

Janet laughed. “I may have, at that.”

Margaret moved to the other side of the long room, while Janet relaxed. She eyed the two men at the end of the table surreptitiously. She must not be as adept at overhearing as Margaret, because she could make out very little of what was being said. Although she was used to Ewen’s sparse conversation, even for him, he seemed unusually subdued tonight.

Something was wrong.

Was he more worried than he’d let on that his friends had not arrived? He’d seemed confident that they would arrive soon. Or was something else bothering him?

She frowned as he refilled his goblet again. He seemed to be drinking more than usual tonight. His face looked a little flushed.

She waited for a break in the men’s conversation. “Is your leg feeling all right, Ewen?”

He looked over at her. “It feels fine. Why do you ask?”

She blushed, not wanting to admit that she’d been watching his intake of ale. “You had not mentioned it for a while, and I was just wondering how it was healing.”

“It’s fine.”

“You are injured?” Margaret asked, approaching the table.

“Some time ago,” he answered.

“But it has not healed properly,” Janet interjected.

Ewen shot her a glare. She smiled.

Margaret frowned. “I have some ointment—”

“Really,” Ewen said. “It’s fine.”

“Leave the lad alone, Margaret,” Robert said. “He’s old enough to decide for himself whether he needs help.”