“I will join Oria and offer what help I can.”
Trevor’s hand shot out, stopping the petite woman that went to walk past him. “You were to remain in the keep, Demelza.”
“Nonsense, Trevor. The day is far too beautiful to stay in the keep and I am looking forward to talking with Oria and the healer Wren. So go take yourself off with the men and do what you will.”
Royden almost laughed seeing the petite woman with blonde hair, a pretty face, and round with child speak to the mighty warrior not only without fear but also order him to take himself off.
“Demelza,” Tremor said, a warning in his tone.
The petite woman went up on her toes to reach her husband’s face, though he quickly bent his head down, and she kissed him on the cheek and whispered something to him. He didn’t stop her when she stepped away from him and turned to Wren, who had remained by Parlan’s side, a pleasant smile on her face.
“You must be the healer,” Demelza said and stretched out her hand. “Come, I’ve arranged a cottage where you can tend those in need and where Oria can speak with her people.”
Demelza walked off with Oria and Wren flanking her and those who had crowded around Oria followed them.
“Women,” Trevor said, shaking his head as if the one word was explanation enough. “Come and have a drink while the women do what they will do.”
“I see a lot of changes here,” Royden said, looking around and seeing huts housing craftsmen and stone work being done
“I will show you what’s been done after we drink and talk,” Trevor said.
Royden nodded and sent one last look his wife’s way to see where she was going in case he needed to find her fast.
“Your wife is safe here. No one will harm her,” Trevor said, seeing where Royden’s attention had been drawn.
“My wife is safe when she is with me. Is that not the same for you?” Royden challenged.
“You’re right,” Trevor said without hesitation. “I would kill anyone who would dare harm my wife.”
“I would do the same without an ounce of regret,” Royden informed him, and so it was made known between the two men that they would defend their wives with their lives.
“Let us drink, talk, and become friends,” Trevor said.
“Friends? That remains to be seen,” Royden said and he and his da followed Trevor to the keep.
Wren looked around the sizeable cottage, amazed at all the dried plants hanging from racks and the many crocks that sat on a high chest. She gently touched the stone mortar and pestle on the table in the middle of the room.
“It takes years of use to form a mortar as deep and smooth as this one,” Wren said.
“It belonged to Hilda, our healer, and her mother before her and possibly her grandmother,” Demelza said. “Hilda told me on the journey here that she was not long for this world but she assured me that a wise, local healer would help until another healer could be fetched.”
“I will do all I can,” Wren said, pleased the old healer hadn’t viewed her as a witch. “Before I tend to those waiting outside. Tell me, how are you feeling?”
“I feel good. My stomach protests some mornings, but not as badly as it first did, and if I feel tired I rest.”
“But your husband worries about you regardless of how much you reassure him,” Wren said, having sensed the man’s worry when his wife had appeared. “Why is that?”
“You sense things,” Demelza said with a smile and a nod as if that knowledge comforted her. “Hilda did too.”
“Did Hilda sense something that worried your husband?”
“No, my husband worries because I miscarried once. I wasn’t far along, but I bled heavily and there was worry I might die. Trevor fears what could happen with this delivery.”
“And when he asked Hilda about it, she was honest and told him that there is no telling what will happen with any birth.”
“You are as wise as Hilda said you’d be. I am pleased you will be around to help, and I beg my husband’s forgiveness now since I know there will be times he will not be as cordial as he should be.”
“Most men aren’t,” Wren said with a laugh. “Is there anything else you’d like to tell or ask me before I begin tending the ailing?”
Demelza hesitated, then shook her head. “No, I’ll leave to your task.”
“Demelza,” Wren said when she reached the door. “Your worry is not for the bairn and you appear well and rested. So what is it that worries you?”
She kept her voice low, almost to a whisper. “He will come here and I worry what will happen when he comes. He is a man who wins at all costs.”
“He brings more trouble here?” Wren asked.