a few moments.’
Matilda clasped her friend’s hand. ‘I’m gladdened that you forget he is gone. It will keep him alive when the baby comes.’
Bess’s eyes softened as she glanced at Matilda’s swollen stomach. ‘Anything you wish.’
‘Good. Though I try to be calm, I fear she’ll need all the gentle temperament she can get. She would do well to remember her father.’
Roger, her best friend and her husband, had been the exact opposite of her. Whereas she, in her youth, had always been taking risks and pulling pranks, Roger had been helpful and protective. Ever easy with his smiles and his care, Roger had been the absolute antithesis of the person she’d been, but she’d wanted his calmness in her life, and he...he’d wanted her.
Any moment she’d be crying, and then her friend would believe she had in fact hurt her.
A couple of blinks of her eyes and she saw a familiar figure on the horizon. ‘Louve’s on his way here.’
Bess turned. ‘It’s too early for the men to break from the harvesting.’
Glancing towards the sun, Matilda said, ‘Apparently not.’
‘Then something must be wrong.’
Feeling the same sense of urgency, Matilda placed her hand on her belly and locked her legs. There’d be no running for her.
‘There’d be others with him if there was something amiss,’ Matilda said.
Even after all this time it went against her instincts to hold still, but when Roger had died, for the sake of her baby, she’d vowed she’d be more like him. To set an example that would serve her child well and never to never turn out like her mother. Foolish. Heartbroken. Alone. Twice now.
Bess lifted her skirts. Despite her girth, she’d be able to run if there truly was an emergency. ‘Maybe they couldn’t be spared.’
‘And Louve can?’ Matilda answered. ‘At this time of day he must want to discuss the usual problems. Some argument or a missing tally stick.’
‘You do too much, and with only two of you now overseeing everything it’s not tenable.’
‘We’ll find a replacement soon enough.’
Until Roger’s death there had been three on the estate who oversaw the operations. Now there were only two—herself and Louve, who was both steward for the state and reeve to oversee the crops. She saw to the management of Mei Solis as well as helped settle disputes. Although since Roger—
No. In the fields all day, she thought too much of her lost husband.
Giving in, she strode towards Louve, hoping her mud-caked skirts would slow her enough to give the impression of serenity.
‘What is it?’ she asked.
Louve indicated behind him. ‘I came to warn you. Storm’s coming from just beyond that hill.’
She looked over his shoulder towards the field, where the men were cutting the stalks. If there was a storm, the hill disguised it. All around her were clear blue skies. And even if there was a storm, it shouldn’t bring Louve here.
Their arrangement was unconventional, but it worked. When lord of Mei Solis manor Nicholas had left to seek the fortune the estate so desperately needed, it had seemed reasonable to leave his friends and Matilda, his betrothed in charge. After all, he had intended to return within two years.
That had been six years ago, and in that time he had broken their betrothal. Despite this, they had kept to the managing arrangement because the manor, families and friends had prospered. She had married Roger, and even if her reputation had been whispered about, her authority on settling disputes and ensuring that Roger and Louve could come to terms had never been questioned.
‘Tell me why you’re truly here,’ she said.
Maybe Bess was right and something was wrong. On a day like today every man was needed to harvest the last of the crops. Louve was one of the strongest and quickest at the sickle, and every reaper was required.
‘I see no storm, and even if there was one, one of the boys could run and tell us that.’
Louve shrugged. ‘None of the boys wanted to protect their hands from blisters. I, however, have many reasons to pamper my hands.’
‘For the hordes of women after you, no doubt,’ Bess interjected.
Matilda almost snorted.
‘Exactly. I’d be useless to the women if my hands were wrapped,’ he said, with a curve to his lips.
Everything about Louve tended to be irreverent, even in the direst circumstances. It was part of his frustrating charm. That coupled with his exceptional blue eyes and black hair made him the most pursued male she’d ever known. Though lately his attention seemed only for the widow Mary.
‘I know exactly what the women would think about your uselessness,’ Bess quipped. ‘They’d be overjoyed not to be harassed by the likes of you.’
‘Ah, Bess, still pining for me, as always.’
Bess and Louve had been teasing each other like this for years. Bess, older than them both, was already married with a grown child.
‘That’s me—still waiting for you to get some sense. It appears I’ll have to keep waiting.’
‘Well, you know where to find me.’
Bess nodded. ‘Lazily talking with us when you should be reaping the wheat like the other men.’
Somewhere along the way Louve had picked up Matilda’s bag and swept more grain into it. It was then that his intent became irritatingly clear. ‘Are you here for me?’
Louve’s mouth quirked. ‘I’m here to save the grain. Storm’s coming.’
Louve was doing her work. The skies were still blue; there was no storm coming. ‘You can’t do this.’
Louve smiled ruefully. ‘You’re working too hard now.’
‘And the baby is kicking,’ Bess added.
‘Are you on his side now?’ Matilda said. ‘I’m working because there’s work to be done. Crops are better this year, so there’s more gleaning.’ A fact that had them all breathing a sigh of relief.
‘That sack’s getting too heavy for you to carry.’
She looked at the ground, thought of running horses to try and calm herself. When that didn’t work, she narrowed her eyes on Louve. ‘I’ll say this differently. I won’t have you do my work for me.’
‘Roger would have—’
Matilda held up her hand and shook her head firmly.
‘Oh, dear,’ Bess whispered.
But
