Free Love Beyond Compare (Book 5 of Morna’s Legacy Series) by Bethany Claire

have to be this morning.”
    Adwen hesitated at the bottom of the stairs, not intending to walk up on the innkeepers’ conversation. They saw him immediately.  
    “Adwen. How did ye sleep, lad? I hope well.”
    Adwen smiled. In truth, he’d slept little, his mind filled with thoughts of the golden-headed lass who’d denied him. But he nodded as he spoke, knowing how much pride they both took in their establishment—his poor sleep was no fault of theirs. “Aye, verra well. Forgive me for intruding. I’ll leave the two of ye alone. I was just going to check on the horses.”
    Isobel spoke to him once again. “Ye doona need to leave on our behalf. Gregor has already seen to both of yer horses. They are warm, fed, and happy.”
    She turned from him briefly to address her husband.  
    “Aye, Gregor, ye must go to the castle this morning. I shall be fine, I assure ye. I willna allow Jane to fall into trouble for our sake.”
    Adwen stood uncomfortably in the doorway watching Gregor’s weary and worried expression as he leaned in to kiss his wife on the cheek, squeezing her hand gently before turning and leaving them alone without another word.  
    Isobel exhaled and turned to face him once her husband was gone, her smile friendly despite the dark circles under her eyes. She was ill and, by the sound of her coughs during the night, Adwen doubted she had more than a few moons left in her life. He’d seen the same symptoms once before, and just thinking about them brought up memories he and his brothers had spent years trying to forget.  
    “Is the other one awake yet? I’m sorry, I doona know his name.”
    Adwen laughed and a small snort escaped him, bringing a flush of red to his cheeks in embarrassment. “Orick. And only one of two things will wake him—either the smell of food or the need to relieve himself. We shall have to wait to see which one.”
    Isobel laughed, motioning to a seat inside the small room.  
    “Is that no true of most men? If I dinna cough so, I imagine Gregor would be the same.”
    He took the seat as she bid, satisfied that the horses would hold for a few more moments. “Aye, ’tis true enough.”
    His stomach growled loudly, bringing Isobel to her feet as she smiled and winked at him, jerking her head in the direction of the kitchen.  
    “And so it was yer stomach that awakened ye this morning, aye? Come with me. I’ll fix ye something to eat.”
    Adwen followed her willingly into the kitchen. Since the moment he’d smelled Jane’s stew, his stomach had been churning in hunger.  
    The short trip from the sitting room to the kitchen was enough to exhaust Isobel. Although he knew she tried to hide it, he didn’t miss how she gripped the end of the table to keep herself steady and how she spoke slowly in an effort to keep from coughing as she tried to catch her breath.
    “I doona wish for ye to prepare food for me, Isobel. Rather, ye shall sit and rest while I do the cooking.”
    She waved a hand at him, managing a quiet laugh. “O’course I willna allow ye to do that. Do ye even know how to cook?”
    Adwen smiled, moving around the table so that he could gently guide her to a seat, ignoring her objections all the way.
    “Aye, I do. I had a verra good teacher.”
    “Aye? Who?”
    “My mother.”
    Isobel smiled and took to resting her chin in the palm of her hand. Adwen took it as a sign of resignation and went about roaming the kitchen, taking in the stocks of food to see the items that he had to work with.  
    “’Tis no proper for me to allow ye to do this, Adwen—or would ye prefer me to call ye Laird MacChristy? I should have addressed ye so to begin with.”
    “Ach, please never refer to me as laird. I doona care for the title now, nor will I when I take my position. And I doona care if ye think it proper. ’Tis evident that ye are no well enough to even stand, lass. Ye should still be in yer bed, no down in the kitchen. I can tell by looking at ye that ye’ve no much