“Do you think we have enough food?” Donald asked.
Kirsty smiled. She had dark blonde hair and innocent brown eyes. It was difficult for anyone to mistrust her, “We always have enough to share,” she said quietly.
They sat down to a meal of oatcakes baked on a griddle, and a savory rabbit stew. A cold wind blew around them. Donald’s wagon stood at the edge of the road. It was small, with a wooden shelter built on top of it; a comfortable place but not meant for long-distance travel.
After breakfast Stephen proposed that he and Donald do some hunting.
Bronwyn immediately stood, brushed the crumbs off her skirt, and obviously meant to go with them.
Stephen turned to her. “Perhaps you should stay with Kirsty,” he said quietly, with meaning. “A woman’s place is by the fire.”
Bronwyn felt anger flush through her. What did she know of cooking? She could help on the hunt. It was when she saw approval in Donald’s face that she understood Stephen. Donald might begin to be suspicious of a woman who could hunt but couldn’t cook. She sighed in resignation. “At least we’ll have Rab for protection.”
“No,” Stephen said. “I think we’ll need him on the hunt.”
“Rab!” she commanded. “Stay with me.”
“Come, Rab,” Stephen said patiently. “Let’s go hunting.”
The big dog didn’t even seem to consider moving from Bronwyn’s side.
Donald chuckled. “That’s a well-trained dog you have there.”
“My father gave him to me,” she said proudly.
“Your father?” Donald began.
“We’d better go,” Stephen said quickly as he gave Bronwyn a look of warning.
She turned away from them and went to sit by the fire, close to Kirsty—her enemy.
Chapter Ten
BRONWYN TWISTED A PIECE OF GRASS ABOUT IN HER hands. Stephen’s warning had made her realize how easily she could give herself away. She knew very little about being a wife and how the ordinary wife acted. All her life had been spent with men. She could ride and shoot, but cooking was a mystery to her. The everyday talk between women was also unknown to her.
“Have you been married long?” Kirsty asked.
“No,” Bronwyn answered. “And you?”
“About nine months,” Kirsty smiled as she rubbed her big stomach.
Bronwyn suddenly realized that someday her stomach could look like that. It had never occurred to her that she’d have to bear pregnancy. “Does the child hurt very much?” she asked quietly.
“Only now and then.” Suddenly a look of pain crossed her face. “Tonight seems to be worse than usual,” she said breathlessly.
“Could I get you something? Water? A pillow? Anything?”
Kirsty stared at her, her eyes blinking rapidly. “No, just talk to me. I haven’t had a woman to talk to in a long time. Tell me, what’s your husband like?”
“Stephen?” Bronwyn asked blankly.
Kirsty laughed. “Don’t mind me. I’m just curious. You never seem to know a man until you live with him.”
Bronwyn was cautious. “Were you disappointed in Donald?”
“Not at all. He was quite shy before we married, and now he’s very kind, considerate. Your Stephen seems like a good man.”
Bronwyn realized she’d never thought of Stephen as anything except an Englishman before. “He…he makes me laugh,” she said after a while. “He makes me laugh at myself when I tend to be too serious.”