The Ghost Greyson, Maeve (reading an ebook .txt) 📖

poor Greer pulling every hair from her head.” She jumped from the bed and hurried behind the privy screen before Magnus could snag hold of her for one last embrace.

“Poor Greer should be used to it. She’s helped in the nursery enough times to know that bairns will repeat everything they hear.”

“Be that as it may,” she argued above the sounds of splashing water. “I dinna wish the girl vexed, ye ken? Ye’ve no idea what a rarity it is to have such fine servants as those who work here at Tor Ruadh. Ye must speak to Keigan. He’ll sooner listen to ye than me. I’ve seen that in him already.”

Her backhanded compliment about his word carrying more weight with the lad filled him with pride. “I’ll speak to him.” A groan escaped him as his feet hit the floor. He stretched and scratched all the parts of him that would much rather be back in the bed. “Ye ken my only clothing in here is my lèine, aye? I’m sure Greer’s seen such before, but ye seem worried about offending the lass.”

“Then ye best be moving yer things from yer room to here. These are our chambers now.” She stepped out from behind the screen with a fresh chemise. The light from the window outlined her lovely form.

Damn, if he wouldn’t love to take her back to the bed. He’d gone without food in the past and for much less pleasant reasons.

She tossed a look at the door as she stepped into her everyday skirts and donned her stays, then her bodice. “Will ye go see how Keigan fared last night whilst I finish dressing? I’m nearly ready.”

“The cost is a kiss.” With a mischievous grin, he tugged her into his arms before she could protest. “What say ye, wife?” he whispered so close his lips brushed across hers.

“I say make it a quick one, my love, or we’ll be back in that bed and keeping our Keigan waiting.”

He rewarded her with an appreciative groan and gave her a kiss he hoped made her ache for him as much as he ached for her.

“Ye’re a rogue, ye know that, aye?” She gently but firmly removed herself from his embrace. “On wi’ ye now.”

“And now, I’ll be needing yer shawl, m’lady.” He grinned down at the front of his tunic, his cock like a tent pole poking out the muslin.

She threw it at him, shaking her head as he lashed it around his waist. “I warned ye!” Her scolding came off weak, and he loved her for it. She sounded happy. Contentment and relief swelled through him. Thank the gods he had made her happy.

With a flick of her hand, she shooed him toward the door. “On wi’ ye now, while I tighten my laces and brush my hair.”

Keigan’s laughter peeled out as Magnus entered the sitting room. “Ye’re wearing Auntie’s shawl!”

“Just for that, my young scamp, ye can help me fetch my things today, ye ken?” He padded across the sitting room and circled the table Greer and Keigan had scooted in front of the window. A good-sized banquet met his gaze—far too much food for just himself and Brenna. Noting the size of the dome-covered platters, bowls of fruit, and pitchers of honeyed wine, Magnus turned to the red-faced maid and smiling child. “The two of ye brought in all this food? By yerselves?” He scanned the room, tossing a look at all the corners. Nary a cart, basket, or cloth sack could be seen anywhere.

“We had a wee bit of help,” Greer confessed, resting a hand on Keigan’s shoulder and squeezing as she spoke.

Keigan’s smile widened. “We been in here a while. Ye didna notice cause ye were—”

Greer bumped Keigan with her hip, causing him to skitter sideways.

“Anyways…” Keigan continued after pulling a face at Greer. He stepped closer and lowered his voice. “Is Auntie happy? Truly happy?”

Magnus’s heart swelled. “Aye, son. I believe she is.”

“I’ll be happier if ye grant me a hug,” Brenna said as she closed the bedchamber door behind her.

Keigan dove into her arms. “I had the best time with Maxwell and Grant. Our fort stood well and good against Maisie and Effie’s attacks.”

“It warms my heart to hear ye did us proud, my precious one.” Her eyes rounded wide as her gaze settled on the abundance of food. “Merciful heavens. Who did ye think ye were feeding?”

“Cook wanted to be sure and send plenty since ye didna eat that much last night.” Greer’s already rosy blush grew a shade brighter. “She said ye needed to eat well so yer first bairn would be born braw and healthy.”

“Took us two full carts to bring it all up,” Keigan said. He went to the table and removed a dome with a flourish. “Cook said eat until ye can eat no more, then she’ll swap these out for fresh.” Dragging a slice of apple through a softened cheese, he frowned. “She said ye could be here for days.” With the bite held ready to pop into his mouth, he turned to Brenna. “Are ye locked in yer rooms for days after ye marry? I never heard of that afore.”

Magnus almost choked on the butter-slathered bannock he’d just shoved into his mouth.

Brenna cleared her throat after a narrow-eyed glare at him that spoke volumes. “Not locked in our rooms. But often, newly wedded couples wish to have extra private time together.”

“Ahh.” Keigan nodded as he rounded the table, his mouth puckered in deep thought as he eyed the covered platters. “To get bairns. I guess a little brother wouldna be too much of a chore.” He lifted the cover from a smaller platter, then recoiled. As he took another step back, he covered his mouth and nose, then gagged. “What is that supposed to be?”

A disgusting stench greased its way across the room, rising from the platter of rotting offal and maggot-covered chicken heads. Magnus strode across the room, scooped up the plate, and flung it