Chapter Forty-Three

Gifu was teaching her some Norse words when the unthinkable happened. She reached out and patted Miriam’s middle.

“How long?” she asked.

She blamed the tight-fitting apron dress with the belt which was her only alternative to the Vercian gown. Why was she continuing to say him nay when it came to marriage? It seemed important to him, despite availing himself of her body as and when he liked. Once, he had caught hold of her in the byre and she had remembered how to blush all over again.

Fortunately, Ketil seemed none the wiser about her condition. He had teased her about gaining weight, indicating that he saw nothing to complain about in terms of her chest, though he would not want her to be rotund when they were handfasted.

At this rate, any wedding dress would have to be let out and extra panels inserted, though Miriam would have liked to have sewn her own.

In truth, she did not know the answer to the older woman’s question, so she shrugged and referred vaguely to Yuletide.

“I help,”