beat of his heart with all her might. But there was nothing, nothing she could hear anyway.
“Sorch?” Alec asked, “Are you all right?”
She sat up and nodded quickly. “Of course.”
He frowned slightly but tugged her back against him.
Across the coach, Lord Eynsford snored slightly and Cait flipped through the most recent edition of La Belle Assemblée, but she had a greenish hue about her face.
Sorcha leaned forward and touched her friend’s knee. “Are ye feelin’ all right, Cait?”
Cait dropped the periodical to her lap, looking positively miserable. She shook her head, and Alec promptly tapped on the carriage roof to signal the driver to stop. The jarring motion did nothing to help Cait’s unfortunate color.
Before Alec could even help her down or Eynsford could fully wake, Cait tumbled out of the carriage and cast up her accounts mere inches from the coach.
“Havers!” Sorcha cried as she moved to follow her.
Eynsford moved to accompany them, but Sorcha tossed him a smile, said, “I’ll alert ye if we need ye,” and closed the door promptly in his face. The sputtering noise Eynsford made was priceless.
Sorcha reached into her sleeve, pulled out a handkerchief, and passed it to Cait, who smiled weakly as she wiped her face. Sorcha couldn’t help but giggle over the marquess’ look of confoundment.
“I’m so glad ye find my situation so humorous,” Cait groused.
“I was laughin’ at yer husband, ye ninny.” Sorcha gently rubbed Cait’s back. “Are ye feelin’ better?”
“A little,” the older witch admitted.
“Ye were lookin’ a might bit green back there. Was it somethin’ ye ate?”
Her natural color slowly returning, Cait grinned and took Sorcha’s arm and then pulled her away from the coach.
“Where are we goin’?” Sorcha asked as they got farther and farther away.
“I need ta tell someone,” Cait hissed at her.
“Tell someone what?”
Cait raised a finger to her lips. “Whisper. Otherwise Dash will hear everythin’ ye say.”
“Alec too,” Sorcha confided with a heavy sigh. “Though maybe he can hear whispers, as well. I’ll have ta ask him.”
“I had no idea vampyres could hear so well.” Cait looked surprised.
“Vampyres are quite amazin’ in their own right,” Sorcha said with pride, as though she possessed the powers herself.
“I doona ken much about them.”
“Me neither, but I plan ta learn.” Heat crept up Sorcha’s face as she realized Cait’s husband had probably already told his wife what she’d been doing with Alec behind closed doors.
“Rumor has it that ye’ve already learned quite a bit.” Cait smiled broadly.
“Yer husband is a menace,” Sorcha mumbled.
“My husband has yer best interests at heart.” Her friend giggled.
“Anythin’ he can do ta thwart Alec seems ta give him pleasure.”
Cait shook her head. “He’d actually prefer not ta be involved at all. I’m the one who sent him ta Alec’s room.”
Traitorous witch! “How could ye?” Sorcha gasped.
“Someone has ta protect ye. Ye’re dead set on givin’ yerself away.” Cait shot her a telling glance. “I assume ye no longer have the need of anyone tellin’ ye what happens in a marriage bed, now do ye?”
Sorcha took a deep breath. Truly, none of this was Cait’s concern. Sorcha didn’t hound her for intimate details. Well, she had asked for marriage-bed advice, which Cait had firmly refused to give her. “Were ye no’ casting up yer accounts just a moment ago? How did this become about me?” She pointed to her own chest. Then she turned to walk back toward the coach. “I’ll send yer husband ta ye,” she called over her shoulder.
“Doona go!” Cait cried. Then she whispered vehemently, “I have ta tell someone.” Sorcha turned back toward her. “I have ta keep so many secrets about futures! I want ta blab ta the whole world about mine.”
Sorcha took a few steps in her direction and whispered back, “What kind of a secret?”
Cait placed a hand on her belly and said, “I think I might be expectin’.”
“Expectin’ ta cast up yer accounts again? I’ll go get yer husband for ye.” Sorcha never had been one for sickness.
She had a much too sympathetic stomach.
“No!” Cait cried. Sorcha saw the curtain move inside the coach as Lord Eynsford’s head came into view. Nosy man.
Cait glared at him and motioned for him to close it. He did so, but he didn’t look very happy about it. Cait dropped her voice back to a whisper. “I think I’m expectin’ a bairn.”
Tears immediately pricked at the back of Sorcha’s lashes. “A bairn?” she squeaked.
“Shh!” Cait fluttered her arms wildly, trying to get Sorcha to quiet.