The Brat Page 0,53

will be soon."

"Not too soon," Murie said with a half laugh. "Pray, let us get to Reynard Castle before it arrives. I should not like to help you deliver the babe out here in a rough camp without aid or herbs or medicinals to help."

"Well, not that soon," Emilie agreed. "I still have a couple months to go."

Murie nodded.

"Ladies." Reginald smiled as he led Balan over. "As Balan and Osgoode did not bother bringing a tent for the journey, and we did, I have offered my place in the tent to you, Murie. I shall join the rest of the men by the fire while you and Emilie rest inside this night."

"Oh." Murie's eyes slid to her husband. She'd rather hoped to sleep curled in his arms by the fire. It had been nice waking in his arms last night. She'd felt cared for each time she'd awakened. Her husband didn't appear to feel the same, however.

"That is a good idea," Emilie murmured.

Forcing a smile, Murie nodded. "That is very kind of you, Reginald. Thank you."

Despite her up-front agreement, as the men walked away Emilie said unhappily, "Now he does not even care to sleep with me."

"Aye, and apparently Balan does not wish to sleep with me, either," Murie muttered.

Both women sighed as they watched their husbands cross the clearing.

****

Despite the absence of her husband, or perhaps because of it, Murie slept late the next morning. When she woke, the tent was empty, Emilie having risen and left. Cecily had, apparently, already been; there was fresh clothing lying on the furs at the foot of the pallet she'd slept on. Reaching for the undertunic, Murie donned it, then stood to don the gown as well, then ran her fingers through her hair before making her way out of the tent. She stepped out into the clearing to find it a hive of activity. She was the last to rise, and men were rushing this way and that, packing things and preparing to break camp.

"Wife."

Murie turned and offered a shy smile at her husband.

"You slept well?" he asked.

She nodded, eyebrows rising. He looked a bit pale and haggard. It seemed obvious from that, and from the scowl gracing his face that he had not. Still, she asked politely: "And you?"

"It rained last night," was his answer.

"Ah." Murie bit her lip and gave a start when he took her elbow to lead her into the woods.

"You did not sleep much on our wedding night, so I let you sleep in this morn. However, because of that you will not have time for proper ablutions ere we go," he announced. They walked the trail to the river's edge. "I was just coming to wake you when you stepped out of the tent. We are leaving as soon as the tent and furs are packed on the wagon."

"Oh," Murie murmured, and soon found he was not exaggerating about time for proper ablutions. He allowed her a moment to relieve herself of her full bladder, then led her to the riverside to splash water on her face and hands before hurrying back to camp.

Murie saw with some amazement that, despite how quick she had been, the tent and all its trappings were already broken down and stowed away, and everyone was mounted - except Reginald, who was lifting Emilie into the wagon as they entered the clearing. Murie had barely noted all this when Balan suddenly caught her by the waist and lifted her. Glancing around with surprise, she saw that they had reached her mount, and then he was sitting her on the mare's back, and she was scrambling to hold on to the pommel.

"I - ," she began with bewilderment, then paused as her husband suddenly held up a bag.

"Cheese, bread and an apple - to break your fast as we ride," he announced.

"Thank you," Murie said, accepting the bag and watching as he turned to mount his own horse. She was still not quite awake and was feeling a bit overwhelmed by the speed of things this morning, but movement drew her gaze to the wagon to find Emilie smiling and waving at her, and she felt herself relax a little as she smiled and waved in return.

A high-pitched whinny and snorting drew her eyes sharply to her husband and his mount. Balan had apparently just mounted, but the stallion, Lightning, was not pleased for some reason; he was reacting badly. He was rearing and snorting and pawing the air as he