Haven #4
Moll frowned. Lord help her, the spirits had turned her thoughts to mush.
What could she say? Her mother had birthed a babe every year, but she’d always sent Moll into the forest during the actual event.
She’d died before Moll had turned eight.
Her father had never remarried, nor had he seen fit to find a woman willing to offer his daughters any such related advice.
Moll shuddered. No one had even warned her what to expect on her wedding night—one of the most traumatic events of her life.
“Moll?” Lady Haddon asked.
“Ah, yes, my lady.” The woman wanted a birthing secret. Well, she had witnessed the birth of a calf—once. The cow had kept walking until the calf slid out, feet first. Surely cows and humans weren’t much different? “The secret is to keep walking, my lady. They drop out, feet first.”
At the muffled snort at her side, Moll looked up into Taran’s amused eyes.
“Moll’s fair exhausted, my lady,” he said. “She’s away with the wine.”
“Then let her take rest.” Lady Haddon laughed. She smiled at Moll. “We’ll speak of secrets when you’ve recovered, Moll.” With another laugh, she took her leave.
Taran remained standing until Lady Haddon waddled away and then bent down to offer Moll his arm. “Shall we?”
“We?” Moll frowned, ill at ease.
Calmly, he pulled her to her feet and threaded her arm through his. “You’re nigh asleep, lass. ‘Tis time to rest.” He cocked a brow at George and Francis and added, “Bring the bairns, aye?”
Moll released a long breath. George and Francis could mind the younger children well enough. Right now, she needed to sleep. The thought of a bed made her smile, and then, Taran was setting off across the hall.
She couldn’t match his stride. Her feet felt like lead.
The third time she stumbled, he swooped her into his arms and carried her through the doors and down a torch-lined corridor.
She wanted to tell him she could walk, but the moment she opened her mouth, she found herself battling a yawn instead.
To her own surprise, she gave up at once and allowed the pleasant hum thrumming through her body to sweep her away.
For the first time in days, she felt warm.
For the first time in several years, she felt completely full.
No, more than that, she felt…comfortable, and the solid, muscular arms that held her with such ease felt… safe.
She let her eyes close, only for a moment.
The next thing she knew, a deep voice vibrated beneath her ear, “Here, lads, pull back the blanket.”
The softness of a feather mattress caressed Moll’s back. She was on a bed. She smiled. Then, the realization struck that she was in a man’s arms.
Fear jolted her awake. “No,” she gasped, flailing her arms.
Strong fingers caught her wrist. “Easy, lass.”
‘Twas Taran. So close, so very close, leaning over her.
“Keep your distance,” she spat.
He said nothing but released his grip and stepped back.
Moll forced herself to sit and then swung her feet off the bed. ‘Twas difficult, but finally, she stood on her own two feet.
She was in a bedchamber, a large one with a fire merrily crackling on the hearth, an iron-banded wooden chest placed under the window to her right, and a massive four-poster bed.
From the corner of her eye, she saw the children filing through the door to her right. She frowned, bewildered. Where was she?
“You’re safe, Moll,” Taran assured.
Everything began to spin. She collapsed on the bed but managed to support herself upright with an arm. “Keep your distance,” she warned, raising her gaze to Taran’s as he stepped closer. “If you don’t, when the cock crows, you’ll find yourself missing a peicsh…” She paused. The word sounded wrong.
Taran lifted a dark brow.
Moll frowned and tried again. “Peicesh.” An unexpected hiccup escaped her.
The Highlander folded his arms and leaned forward with a twinkle in his eye. “I’ll find myself missing a piece?”
Moll scowled and nodded. “Peicesh.” Bother the word, she couldn’t say it. It didn’t matter. She focused her gaze on his groin instead, intent on leaving no doubt as to exactly which piece she referred.
Heaven help her, but he was a mountain of a man, one of the largest she’d seen. His muscled thighs were massive. She stared until an unfamiliar shiver raced under her skin, then, she winced, regretting the ale and wine. Why had she drunk so much?
Then realizing she still stared at his groin, she wrenched her gaze back to his face.
The twinkle was still there, along with an added lift of his lip.
Bother it all, she could see she’d only entertained him.
She closed her eyes. The man could be dealt with in the morning.
With a yawn, she looked at the pillow just waiting for her head, then found herself tipping sideways, toward the floor instead.
Taran caught her in his arms. “Ach, lass, sleep now, will ye?”
Too exhausted to fight any longer, Moll simply closed her eyes and succumbed to the rising tide of darkness.
“Remember, missing a peisch,” she stubbornly managed to mumble once again.
A soft chuckle beneath her ear was the last thing she heard.