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The babies were as quiet as mice, sleeping soundly between them. She tried to move, but there was a heavy arm draped across her waist. It reminded her of waking up in that inn a few days ago.

“Nae again,” she muttered, glaring in Evander’s direction. But he remained fast asleep.

She tried to wiggle out from beneath him, but stopped when the babies stirred. They yawned, their eyes widening as they stared back at her.

“Morning, wife,” Evander croaked.

His voice, rough with sleep, sent a warm shiver down her spine and made her toes curl beneath the blanket. She prayed he couldn’t see her blush.

“Morning, husband. Do ye think ye can lift yer arm off me?”

He chuckled and removed his arm without further argument. She had expected a remark, but he made none.

The silence concerned her more than it should have, given the ease with which he usually teased her back.

“Ye’re making me nervous,” Freya admitted. “Last night, ye said everything was all right. What’s going on?”

Evander got up and dressed without glancing at her. “I need to summon the council. We’ll discuss it later, wife.”

The babies started to whimper. She recognized the cry of a hungry bairn who had gone too long without milk.

“Before ye summon the council, find a woman who has recently given birth. The bairns need to be fed.”

He nodded. “Aye, I will.”

“What do ye plan to do about the lairdship?”

He paused at the tent’s entrance. “What choice do I have, wife?”

He left without another word, and Freya was grateful for it, grateful for a moment alone to breathe before facing whatever the day would demand of her. She looked down at the twins, both red-faced now and working themselves into a proper fit.

“I ken, I ken,” she murmured, gathering the girl first since she cried loudest, and rocking her gently. “Yer uncle’s gone to fetch ye something better than an exhausted stranger’s arms.”

The boy reached for her hair, tugging with surprising strength for someone so small, and despite everything, she laughed.

Whatever these babies were to Evander, whatever tangled grief and duty had delivered them here, she found she didn’t much mind holding them until help arrived. It was easier, somehow, than sitting with her unanswered questions about the man she’d married.

If she had been able to feed them, she would have, but the best she could do was request a wet nurse for them. She glanced at the tent’s entrance, thinking of his parting words.

“What choice do I have, wife?”

Freya supposed there was always a choice, but in a situation like this, the choices were difficult. Her husband’s people back home were waiting for a laird. Then, there were the people he had stumbled upon and had recently become their Laird.

How did he reconcile the two?

“I certainly didnae expect ye two,” she murmured to the babies.

Before Evander did anything, he would see to her request. She was sure of it. He might be a harsh man, but she had seen the way he had looked at the babies. There had been no anger, no malice. Nothing but love.

He would deny it, but she knew what she had seen with her own eyes.

The tent flap moved, and she looked up, half expecting to find him, but it was a woman who slipped inside. She was small and neat, with a plain kerchief over her fair hair and a calm demeanor, as though nothing in the world could rush her.

“Me Lady.” She bobbed a quick curtsy. “I’m Brigid. The Laird says ye have two hungry bairns in need of me.”

The boy let out a wail of agreement.

Brigid laughed and held out her arms. “Aye, I can hear that, laddie. Let’s tend to yer woes, while the Laird tends to all of ours.”