Three weeks.
Leofric had been gone for three long weeks, dealing with the King's demands. More land to oversee, more involvement in political matters that bored him senseless. All he had wanted during those endless meetings and tedious discussions was to come home to Isabella. To see her smile, hear her laugh, hold her in his arms.
As his horse approached his manor, Leofric felt his heart lift with anticipation. Soon, he would see his wife. Soon, everything would be right again.
But the moment he dismounted in the courtyard, he knew something was wrong.
A figure was walking toward him, moving slowly, awkwardly. As she came closer, Leofric's blood ran cold.
Miriam.
And she was very clearly pregnant, her belly round and prominent under her dress. She was waddling slightly, one hand pressed to her lower back as she walked.
"My Lord," she said, her voice soft and uncertain. "You're back."
