Free Enchanted Moon (Moon Magick Book II) by Amber Scott

leaves and grass.
    Breanne smiled warmly his way, taking his hand a
moment and giving it a quick squeeze. Someday, that squeeze would not break his
heart a little. She belonged to another, and while he’d long ago accepted they
were not meant to be, the heart from his youth missed the idea. She’d done
well. Ashlon was a man he well and truly admired and would do naught to
dishonor. Quinlan pulled his hand away and made a fist in the blanket she’d
given him instead. The air smelled of wet earth and heather and autumn. Aye,
sweet autumn.
    Quinlan wiped a hand through his wet hair as they
headed back the way he’d come. His thoughts muddled. His bones ached. He’d like
little more than a steaming bath and the nearest pile of straw.
    Breanne’s face turned serious as they rounded a low
hill. “Once we’re inside, Quin, I’ll need you to act as though you already
know.”
    “Know what?” They were getting close to Heremon’s.
    She shook her head. “The dream wasna clear. I only
know down in my belly that if you speak out against anything I say, bad things
could happen.”
    “Breanne, bad things already happened.”
    She stopped short. “What does that mean?”
    He kept his pace, regretting his loose tongue. “I merely
suspect your vision and my night together will tell a story,” he called back to
her. She wouldn’t be tolerating evasive answers. But now was not the time. And
other answers were in short supply. “Your visions will probably tell you all
you need.”
    She chased to catch up with him. “My gifts dinna work
that way, Quin.” She punched his bicep. “You sound worse than my own husband,
you do.”
    “Aye, and a wise man you married,” he teased. “What
use are gifts if you canno’ control them?”
    Och, that hit a nerve. Pregnancy made a woman react in
the extreme. Suffering the same from his own six-times-blessed sister helped
him see as much.
    “Off with you, then.” She glared at him for several
seconds, huffed, and turned on her heel dismissively. Her cloak billowed with each
step, snagging here and there along the pathway until she yanked it free.
    He’d never claim to understand her gifts or the Druid
ways she studied for so many years now, but certainly she had some measure of
control over her presages. “Breanne, you’ll tear your cloak if you keep
trouncing away as you are.”
    True enough, too. Every time she had to pause and
yank, Quinlan’s mood brightened just a wee bit. A nice fit was what she was
working herself into. “And we both know I’ll not be leaving you, Breanne.”
    He caught up with her as Heremon’s old home came into
view.
    “You’re feeling downright feisty, Quin. Does this mean
I have to bar you and your horse’s arse from the room, or will you do as I
said?”
    “I’ll shut my mouth and play along. But only because
you’ve asked so nicely. Just tell me what it is to do, and I’ll be doing it.”
    He glimpsed a tiny crack of a grin under her deep
frown and knew he’d made amends. And just in time. They were at Heremon’s door.
Breanne only paused for a breath before nodding to him.
    Quinlan rapped his fist on the thick wood door. When
no quick opening occurred, his stomach tightened. He’d not checked Ailyn for
injuries. He’d felt sure she’d stay put. Mostly sure. Why wasn’t she answering?
Breanne’s brow knitted. Her hands went to her belly.
    “What is it? Are you well?” Quinlan asked and pounded
on the door again, harder.
    Breanne nodded. “Aye.”
    But she looked ashen, and her gaze wavered. She shut
her eyes a moment, her lips parting as she exhaled. When she opened her eyes,
she nodded again. “Try through the rear,” she said. “Or the window there.”
    “Is the babe coming?”
    She shook her head, held her belly and braced one arm
on the doorframe. “Hurry.”
    Quinlan did, fighting back keen frustration over
Breanne’s ability to go from teasing him one moment, and then to dire
seriousness the next. He got to the back of