Her heartbeat ratcheted up another notch.No, no, no!
She flung the cottage door open and ran outside, skidding to a halt in the farmyard and looking around frantically. It was a bright, sunny day with a stiff breeze and the grass sparkled with early morning dew. There was nobody in sight.
She jammed a hand over her mouth to stop the panicked sob that tried to escape, but then a noise from around the back of the house caught her attention. It was a steady, rhythmic ‘snick, snick, snick.”
She ran around the side of the house and stopped abruptly at the sight that greeted her. Deryn was standing inside a small, fenced pen, holding a sheep between his calves while he snipped off her coat with a pair of iron shears. Rory stood watching him in wide-eyed fascination and Maddy could hear the low rumble of Deryn’s voice as he spoke to the boy, although they were too far away to hear the words. Deryn was stripped to the waist, the ends of his auburn hair sticking to his neck with sweat, and Maddy couldn’t stop her traitorous eyes from roving over his sleek, muscled torso and the biceps that stood out on his arms as he worked.
Holy crap, the man was a god. He had a body that would make any gym-worshipper proud. She realized her mouth was hanging open and snapped it shut.
Striding over to the pair, she took Rory’s hand and pulled him away. “Don’t go bothering Deryn, Rory,” she said. “He’s a busy man.”
Deryn released the sheep and opened the gate to allow it to go scampering over to join the grazing flock that was being guarded by a glowering Surly. He turned to her.
“It’s fine, lass,” he said, waving away her concern. “Rory has been my helper this morning, havenae ye, lad? Do ye want to show yer mam what ye’ve been doing?”
Rory nodded eagerly. Letting go of her hand, he walked over to the pile of fleeces that lay off to one side and picked up a small wicker basket, which he carried over to show her. It was full of little tufts of wool.
“I’ve been collecting wool, Mama,” he said in his high, piping voice. “Uncle Deryn says he can use it to stuff my pillow to make it softer.”
Maddy felt her eyebrows rising.UncleDeryn?
Rory was normally shy around new people and rarely spoke, but he’d been perfectly happy to allow Deryn to carry him on his shoulders yesterday and now he’d left the house on his own to come help Deryn with the shearing.
She wasn’t sure what to make of it.
“That’s great, sweetie,” she said, giving his hand a squeeze.
Maddy glanced around. The sun was already up and making the puddles from yesterday shine like silver coins. Mara was lying nearby, head on paws, watching them intently. The air was clear and crisp, a little biting as it filled her lungs, and as she breathed out slowly, she felt some of her tension leave her.
Today she would go home. Today everything would go back to normal. By tonight she would be sharing a glass of wine with Helen and gossiping about her latest wedding plans. Everything was going to be okay.
“Did ye sleep well, lass?” Deryn was wiping his hands on a cloth and watching her curiously.
“I...um...yes actually.”
He nodded. “That’s good.” He picked up his linen shirt from where it was hanging from the fence post and pulled it over his head. “I reckon it’s about time for breakfast. What do ye say, Rory lad?”
Rory nodded and Deryn smiled. “This way then.”
Once back in the house Rory took a seat at the table and amused himself with sorting out his bits of wool from the basket. Deryn sat by the hearth and stirred the fire into life with a poker.
“I’ll make breakfast,” Maddy blurted.
Deryn looked at her quizzically. “Ye?”
She frowned, crossing her arms. “What’s so surprising about that?”
He held up his hands in surrender. “Naught, lass. It’s just I didnae have ye pegged as someone who would know their way around a cookpot.”
“Well, you thought wrong. The least I can do after all you’ve done for Rory and me is cook breakfast.” She rolled up her sleeves, then clapped her hands together. “Right. What supplies have you got?”
It turned out that Deryn had everything she needed in order to put together a half-decent meal. She gathered milk, flour, butter, eggs, honey and berries from the cold store, took down an ancient griddle pan from where it hung from the ceiling, then knelt by the fire and went to work.
She’d cooked on an open fire before, but that had usually been on camping trips or during a barbecue, and it took all of her skill to make sure she didn’t burn everything. She lost herself in the simple tasks, moving on autopilot as she whisked, beat and griddled what she needed, until she had a large pile of pancakes sitting on a pottery plate with honey and berries as an accompaniment.
She carried them over to the table triumphantly. “Ha! Get your mouths around that!”
Rory grabbed several pancakes and began stuffing them into his mouth. She frowned at him. “What have I told you about table manners?” He reluctantly slowed down and even began using the wooden utensils that were laid out for him.
