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Her smile faded when she wondered what she would do with her time tomorrow and the day after and so forth. She had four months until the babe was born, but she had no intentions of sitting and doing nothing.

She left the stable and, with the rain having stopped, once again made her way through the village when she heard a shrilling squeal. She ran toward the sound and watched with delight as a young lad of about six tried desperately to catch a squealing pig.

The lad stopped when he spotted her and, with worry, pleaded, “Please help me catch Henry before he runs away.”

His sorrowful dark eyes had her chasing after the pig with him in no time. The chubby animal squealed and snorted and slipped right out of their grasps each time they got near him. Soon she was ready to slaughter the chubby little thing, and when Henry slipped past them again, she was sure she wanted to kill him.

She and the lad ran like wild idiots after the squealing animal as he dodged and darted around cottages, through a few gardens, his backside being swatted with a broom by a couple of irate women.

“Henry’s going to get away,” the young lad cried as they kept close on his hind legs.

“He is not,” snapped Alyce and leaped, her arms spread wide ready to grab Henry as she landed on her side in a mud hole beside him, her arms catching him tight around his fat middle.

“Got you, you damn pig,” she muttered and looked up expecting to see the lad happy and saw her husband and his two brothers.

“You truly do like to play in mud don’t you?” Lachlan said.

The lad prevented any answer since he ran up and grabbed Henry tight, the pig no longer squealing.

“Bad, Henry. Bad, Henry,” he scolded. Henry snorted. The lad turned to Alyce and sniffled back a tear. “Thank you for catching Henry.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, not moving out of the mud hole and realizing that she probably looked a fright.

“It might be a good idea, Lachlan,” Cavan said, “to find something for your wife to do so she stays out of mud holes.”

That bristled her temper and she tried to get up only to keep tumbling back on her bottom.

She heard them laugh as Lachlan extended his hand to her. She slapped it out of her way. “I don’t need any help.” Sheer annoyance got her up on her own, and she glared at Cavan. “And I’ll do what I damn well please.” She turned to leave then turned around and with a poke at Cavan who backed away to avoid her muddy finger said, “And as laird it’s your duty to help your people. It should have been you in that mud.”

She gave one last poke that Cavan sidestepped, his foot catching the mud and the next thing he knew, went flying backward. Lachlan and Artair instinctively reached out trying to prevent him from falling. Both lost their footing and joined Cavan in the mud, though they hit it face first.

Alyce stood stunned, looking down at the three men sprawled in the mud.

Zia was suddenly at her side shaking her head. “Playing in the mud, lads? You really should know better.”

The three scrambled to get up but could only manage to sit up with the assistance of each other.

Zia looked to Alyce. “I assume you got yourself out of the mud?”

Alyce nodded and smiled. “All on my own.”

“Well, lads,” Zia said. “It would seem that Alyce is the wiser one here.”

“She’s the one that got us in here,” Cavan complained.

“Shame on you, husband,” Honora scolded as she joined the other two women. “Blaming a pregnant woman for your own folly.”

Cavan tried to protest. “I did nothing.”

“My contention exactly,” Alyce said.

“You failed to help Alyce?” Honora asked perturbed.

“I—I—I—” Cavan stumbled unable to find the right words.

Zia wrapped her arm around a muddy Alyce. “Come with us, Honora and I will get you cleaned up.”

Honora shook a finger at the three men. “You all should be ashamed of yourself for treating Alyce so unkindly.”

Cavan shook his head watching the women walk away. “What happened?”

“How the hell are we to know?” Artair said. “Women make no sense.” He looked at Lachlan. “And why the hell are you grinning?”

“This was perfect,” Lachlan said and slapped his knee sending mud flying at his brothers.

Cavan wiped the splat of mud off his cheek. “You better explain yourself before I drown you in this muck.”

“This incident helped my wife bond with your wives.”

“So we are to appear the fools so our wives will get along?” Cavan asked, confused.

“He’s got a point,” Artair said. “Can you imagine what life would be like if they didn’t get along?”

Cavan shook his head. “That won’t be good.” He jabbed a finger at Lachlan. “But find something to keep your wife busy, so that something like this doesn’t happen again.”

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