“Because, of course, you have to try Goblin moonshine,” Meg said with an affectionate laugh.
Cian shrugged. “If someone tells me it’s liquor, I’ll try it. I didn’t like this stuff, though. It smelled lovely, but it tasted bitter.”
Meg’s hazel eyes flared. She was very serious all of the sudden. “Beans from the mountains? Makes you jittery? Would you say it’s an acquired taste?”
“I don’t know who would want to acquire it.” Cian shook his head as he thought about that drink. It had been very bitter and acidic, and the goblins served it at a scalding temperature. “It makes you jittery if you drink too much, and then it’s like you’re addicted. If you don’t get it, you have a headache.”
“Like the one I’ve had for a freaking week and a half,” Meg snarled. She took him by the shirt, fisting the fabric in her hands to draw him close. “You will take me to the coffee.”
Cian’s eyes widened, and for a moment he wondered if the dwarves hadn’t hit it on the head. His queen did, indeed, look a bit vicious. “They don’t call it coffee.”
“I don’t care what they call it, Cian,” Meg swore. “I want it. I’m a pot-a-day coffee drinker who’s been without it for weeks now. You will get me that coffee. Do you understand?”
“It’s become my new quest, wife,” Cian said solemnly. He never argued with a woman when she got that look in her eyes.
Meg backed off and smiled. “Excellent. We can trade the cookies for the coffee.”
She placed a cloth over the full basket and smoothed down her new skirts. Some of the women of the village had held a small sewing party to make the queen a little wardrobe. Meg had been effusive in her praise of the three dresses, two pairs of pants, two shirts, and some nice undergarments. She had made the women promise to teach her what they knew. Her gracious acceptance of their rather plain garments had endeared her to the women of the village. It was the kind of thing that Beck would have turned down, fearing he was taking advantage of his subjects.
What Beck didn’t—wouldn’t—understand was that people needed to be needed. Those women had enjoyed giving their queen a gift she appreciated. Beck held himself apart. While the people loved him for his loyal defense of their lives and property, they rarely spoke to him beyond saying hello. They rarely asked his counsel or wondered about his health. Meg was going to change some of that.
If she survived meeting the goblins.
“Are you ready?”
“No.” He didn’t particularly want to go meet the goblins without Beck at his back.
“Good,” she replied as though he had cheerfully said yes.
She picked up her basket and walked straight out the door. Cian wondered where his day had gone wrong. He’d planned it all out. He had worked hard all week so he would be able to spend this afternoon seducing his wife, and now he had to follow her into a goblin cave where she intended to talk them into exchanging their precious liquor for sweetened oat cakes.
He’d gone down the wrong road.
Cian got off his stool and ran to catch up with his wife. Her hips swayed invitingly in her pretty skirt. She turned and winked at him as she walked down the lane. He jogged the last distance between them and slipped his hand into hers. She was talking and moving with a sweet feminine energy that had him sighing.
He might be going down the wrong road, but it was the one she had picked. He would follow.
Meg chattered happily with her husband as they walked through the village toward the caves where the goblins were based. She smiled up at Cian and realized she really thought of him as her husband. It wasn’t just a title someone had stamped on them. They were married. When had that happened?
The last several days had been a revelation. She had really begun to fit into village life. Meg wasn’t delusional. She realized she wasn’t the best cook in the world. Her poor husband was suffering as she learned, but she wasn’t about to give up. The cottage had rapidly become her domain. Cian had convinced her to stay in the cottage while Beck was gone. There had been many daily tasks that required a resident.
It had been a smart play on his part. She’d been unable to hold herself apart. She found herself rearranging the furniture to suit her. She found yards of gauzy fabric in a trunk in the closet and fashioned some pretty curtains with Flanna’s aid. She weeded the front flowerbeds. The gnomes had been happy to give her bulbs to plant.
She was even becoming fond of the chickens. It would make it almost impossible to eat them. She’d become fond of all the animals. She’d learned to milk the cows and how to brush Sweeney’s mane. She hadn’t let Cian kill the rooster. The rooster only crowed about half the time. Meg had discovered that Cian’s cock was a much better judge of time. It pressed against her every morning as the sun rose, seeking relief.
It hadn’t found any, yet.
That would change soon. She wouldn’t be able to deny him much longer. She didn’t want to. She dreamed about him at night, Cian and his brother. As wonderful as Cian was, she still was heartbroken over Beck. She missed him, but she needed to move on with Cian. He didn’t know it yet, but she intended to do that tonight.
They both became quiet as they trudged through the forest toward the caves. Meg felt Cian’s hand squeeze hers as he helped her over a puddle.
She thought about the letters Beck had been sending. They had begun arriving the day after he left. They popped up on the vampire computer, but they had been written in his own careful hand. Beck’s writing was like everything else about him, carefully controlled and wholly masculine. There were two every day, one addressed to Cian and the other to her.
Meg had refused to read the first one. Cian had read his aloud and then dictated his own response. The brothers asked about each other’s health and the status of their endeavors. Beck inquired about the farm and the village, while Cian asked about the job Beck was doing.
Meg remained silent.
She was going to have to deal with Beck eventually. Meg didn’t understand him at all. Beck had left her behind, but then he wrote her every day. She had broken down and read one of his letters. It had been full of him saying he missed her and wanted to make up for his treatment of her. He had promised to come home soon with gifts for her. He promised her a life of comfort.
The trouble was she didn’t want that life. She was enjoying the one she had found. She felt a great sense of belonging and accomplishment when she thought about the changes she had made to the cottage. She was bonding with the villagers and rapidly becoming important to them. Cian seemed to need her, as well.
She had no intention of allowing Beck to hire a woman to do her work. Although, if he proved as insensitive as he had been before, he might have to pay someone to sleep with him.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Cian’s whole body was tense.
Meg smiled sweetly at him. She didn’t have high hopes that Cian would be able to truly top her when it came to sex. He was far too indulgent. He was nothing like his brother. Beck would have ordered her to stay away from the goblins. If she had disobeyed, he probably would have locked her away. Cian had followed even though she could tell he was a little reluctant.
“Yes.” Meg didn’t feel a bit of the trepidation Cian obviously was experiencing. She’d met vampires and faeries and trolls and those rude dwarves. How bad could goblins be?
“Aye,” came a deep voice. “I thought I smelled something tasty coming this way.”