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warped.
    One afternoon he’d worked up the nerve to ask the one question he had so often wondered about.
    “Did you… did you ever love me?”
    Margaret had met his eyes and shaken her head. “Not like I love Luke. And that was wrong of me, but I was but a child and you were kind and bonny to look at, and I thought Luke would never come back to me, so…” She had shrugged and smiled at him. “But you’re loved now, aren’t you?”
    At the moment he wasn’t so certain, he thought blackly, stamping up the ladder to the hayloft. At the moment he wasn’t all that sure that he loved Alex either and he sank the pitchfork into the hay, working off the dangerous edge of his anger. Another gift from his beloved brother, this rage that he sometimes could barely contain. It bubbled out of him like black tar, smearing itself over his life, a residue of experienced fears and helpless anger during the long hellish months in Virginia, months when he was at times certain he would die without ever seeing either wife or son again.
    “I’m sorry.” Alex’ head popped up, hovering above the hayloft floor. She pulled herself up and came over to where he was working. “I can’t help it, just the thought of you spending any time with her makes me sick.”
    He threw the pitchfork to clatter against the floor and turned to face her.
    “Why? Have I ever let you think she matters to me?”
    “Well, yes – quite often actually. And she does, doesn’t she?” She butted him in his chest with her head. “Of course she matters to you. And rationally I don’t feel threatened, but emotionally I do. And before you tell me what a wee daftie I’m being, I know, okay?”
    “You are a wee daftie,” he said tenderly, placing his arms around her. “And I’m a big one for not telling you – and for not asking you about the lad beforehand. I know you find it difficult with Ian, but surely we can offer him a home for some weeks?”
    “The nursery will be a bit crowded and I hope he doesn’t mind that Jacob farts in his sleep.”
    “All lads fart in their sleep,” Matthew laughed, “And by the way, so do you.”
    “Huh,” Alex said, “look who’s talking.”
    Much later, the house properly locked down and the bairns fast asleep, Matthew undressed and slid into their bed. He yawned and snuggled down beside Alex, thinking that this new concoction of hers had a most pleasing fragrance – roses and mints with a whiff of raspberries.
    “Matthew?” She rolled over to face him.
    “Mmm?”
    “You’re not doing anything stupid, are you?”
    “How stupid?” In the weak light all he could see were the whites of her eyes.
    “You know.”
    “Alex,” Matthew sighed, “you can’t expect me not to help.”
    “It might be dangerous – for you, for us.”
    “They need me.” If it hadn’t been for him and his fighting skills two preachers would have been dangling in a noose by now, but he decided not to share that with Alex, suspecting she’d be worried rather than impressed if he told her of last week’s little adventure.
    “But still…”
    “I help them over the moss, I feed them, harbour them for a night or two. And I will continue doing it – it’s the least I can do.”
    “And if someone finds them here?”
    “They won’t.”
    “But if they do, then what?” she insisted.
    “Then…” Matthew propped himself up on an elbow and looked down at her. “They won’t.”
    “That bad, huh?” she said, her hands closing on the linen of his shirt.
    “Alex…” He brushed his nose a couple of times against hers. “I’m careful, very careful.”
    “Luke knows,” she said.
    “He does?” Matthew tried to sound unconcerned.
    “That’s what Margaret said.”
    “There’s nothing he can do to harm me – he’s in Oxford.”
    “He might tip them off,” Alex said. “Who knows what contacts Luke has in the army?”
    “Unless someone finds Sandy or one of the other preachers here, on my land, what can they prove?