The winter was holding on tightly at the Brambles, but it wasn't such a hardship for the new family who had settled in the cottage not far from the main house. With Elise making firm friends with Jodie, and Rob more often out playing with Maggie and her little brother, Duncan and Mara were finding the time to relearn each other properly, to discover the nuances that had formed them separately in their decade apart. They had suffered apart for a long time; the little things that had changed them needed to be rediscovered if they were going to find their balance again.

It was the first time Mara had ever been the true mistress of a house, and it had brought home to her how very few truly useful skills she had. The ability to be a charming hostess while enduring torturous pain no longer applied; she had to learn how to be more than purely decoration. One thing she had not lost in ten years, however, was her earnest desire to learn and be useful, and she was throwing herself into the odd jobs required around the house that Elise hadn't been able to stop her from trying. One of these was chopping the logs into hearth sized firewood, which was apparently something ladies didn't do. This lady, however, found it extremely satisfying. She didn't always hit the log, but she enjoyed it, nonetheless. Even with the snow falling, Mara could lose an hour or so chopping firewood while Duncan was with the horses.

As for Duncan, he had fallen into the rhythm of the Brambles as easily as if he'd been born to it. It didn't hurt that it had always been his dream to raise horses. It was almost like a dream come true living here at the Brambles with Mara and Rob. They were settling in well enough, making friends, and slowly learning about all that Rhy'Din had to offer. Duncan had quickly discovered a fondness for coffee and chocolate that bordered on addiction, and Evan was teaching him how to use firearms and finding him a quick study. Most importantly, Rob and Mara were safe and happy here, and in the end, that was all that really mattered.

He was a man who had changed his life several times, and not even Mara knew about everything that he had been through. Slowly, they were catching up, relearning each other and filling in the blanks of their pasts, but what really mattered wasn't the past, but the future, and their future, it seemed, was here on Rhy'Din. It was Duncan's habit to return to the cottage for the mid-day meal, and today was no exception. Up early with the sun and spending all morning with the horses, he often returned with a ravenous appetite, before returning to work in the afternoon, helping the hands in any way he was needed. Imagine his surprise to find his once soft wife chopping wood for the fire - a job he considered should be relegated to himself as man's work. "Shouldn't you be inside darning socks or something?" he asked as he approached, smelling as pungent as the horses he'd spent the morning with.

Out of breath, her shawl set aside on the fence nearby, Mara turned to look at him, axe in one hand as she laid the other on her hip, squaring up to her husband with flyaway hair and certain amount of strain in her corset given her exertions. "I am not some fragile little bird who needs to be kept from picking up anything heavier than a needle, Mal," she pointed out between each heavy breath. "This needed doing. I'm doing it."

"Oh, nae. I'm sure you can handle something a little heavier than a needle," he remarked with a mischievous grin and a sparkle in his stormy gray eyes. "You could have asked me, you know," he pointed out helpfully. He would have taken over, but though he trusted her, he didn't quite trust the axe she was swinging around. "I think your corset might be a little crooked, wife of mine," he teased, that same smirk on his face.

"You were busy," she informed him with a faint smile, brushing the loose strands of fallen hair back from her face. "I am quite capable of doing the jobs around the house that need doing, I ....what?" Taking in another breath, she glanced down at herself, and for the first time she could remember, she actually blushed at the sight of her own breasts heaving with her breath. Perhaps she should have kept the shawl wrapped about herself. Her head snapped up, eyes narrowing as she wagged a finger at him. "You are supposed to be a gentleman, you know."

"Since when have I ever been a gentleman?" he countered, obviously amused by his wife's discomfort. If she believed him a gentleman, she did not know him very well. He had not been a gentleman since he'd left home as a teenager, or at least, so he thought. "Mayhap you should at least wear something a little more sensible if you insist on chopping wood," he told her stepping forward to wrap a very capable hand around the handle of the axe, his eyes never leaving her face, except to admire the view of those heaving breasts.

"I haven't had the chance to find out how to make the clothing Marin wears," she informed him, her flush fading as quickly as it had arisen. Her head tipped back to keep her eyes on his as he stepped close to take hold of the axe in her hand. "Anyone would think you didn't trust me with a weapon, Duncan Mallory." She'd killed once, and it had been with her bare hands, the nightmares still haunting her over her actions. Still, she released the axe to him without argument. The wood was chopped for the day, anyway.

"On the contrary, there is no one I trust more. It is the axe I don't trust," he countered, that gleam still in his eyes that showed he was more amused by her embarrassment than anything else. "It seems you've done my work for me," he remarked, effortlessly swinging the axe into the chopping block for safe keeping. "I hope you aren't expecting me to do the sewing," he teased, sliding an arm around her shoulders to pull her close for a kiss.

The effortless way he swung the axe securely into the block made her mouth fall open with a slightly annoyed huff of breath, rolling her eyes at how easy he made it look. It took her four goes to get the thing out of the block most days. His question, however, made her laugh, her answer forestalled by the kiss that drew her in close to his ....admittedly pungent ....warmth. "Only if you split your breeches showing off again," she told him, sniffing with a mild grimace. "Duncan, you smell like a horse."

He laughed at her assessment of his manly, musky odor, which further amused him. "Aye, what do you expect me to smell like after spending the morning with horses?" he pointed out. "Come inside, wife. I'm famished and it's freezing outside." It was no big secret that Duncan wasn't a big fan of the snow or the cold - there was a reason for that, but he rarely spoke about it.

"Well, go on inside, then," she told him, reaching out to hand him her shawl with a stubborn smile. "I'll be right behind you." With a heavy armful of firewood, of course, but Mara was definitely stubborn enough to insist on carrying the fruits of her labors into the house herself.

"Why are you so stubborn?" he asked, taking the shawl from her, knowing she was going to insist on lugging all the wood inside when it would have been simple enough and a lot easier to let him do it. "You don't have to do everything, you know. I'm willing to help," he scolded her gently, though he admired her courage and inner strength more than she might know.

"I have spent," she began, gathering together the wood to heave it up into her arms, "years being nothing but a decoration. I need to learn how to be useful beyond looking pretty and making conversation. I'm the most useless person in the house, Duncan. I want to change that. Now you lead the way. If I fall, that way I'll fall on you."

"You had no choice, Mara. I know that now," he said, frowning at her from across the table. The pain of that old hurt had faded at last, but he didn't wish it on anyone, much less his own son. "I'm glad he's making friends, at least. She's good for him, I think." Evan had told him a little about his Maggie, and Duncan knew the girl needed a friend just as much as did Rob.

The guilt would never truly leave Mara for the pain she had inflicted upon her dearest love, no matter how cornered she might have believed herself to be at the time. She blamed herself for Duncan's pain, and for Rob's hurts, knowing all she could do now was ease both as best she could. "They're good for each other," she said softly. Marin had shared a little of the circumstances with her, and though she knew she shouldn't, Mara hoped that Rob and Maggie were developing a friendship as enduring as her own with Duncan, whether it grew to love or not. "Children should be allowed to be children, for as long as they can be."

"Were we ever really children, Mara?" Duncan asked with that serious frown of his. He didn't really like to talk about the past or the hurts they had both suffered. They were happy now and he didn't think treading over the past solved much of anything but to open old wounds.

"We were, for a little while," she murmured, reaching across the table to brush her fingers over his. "Our children will enjoy their childhood, love. I promise you that." Gathering his fingers in her own, she raised his hand to touch her lips to his knuckles.

He smiled at the tender show of affection from his beloved, touched by the thought of their children - not child - being able to enjoy a proper childhood, as they had not. "Do you think he's happy here, love?" he asked, though he already knew the answer to that question every time he looked into his boy's eyes.

Mara's smile was indulgent this time, knowing better than she could possibly express the answer to that question. "I know he is," she assured her husband warmly. "He's happier here, with his true father, than I could ever dreamed he would be."

"I should have taken you away from Dreven a long time ago," Duncan mused guiltily, but it was old guilt, and it had taken a lot of growing up before he had matured enough to have realized why she had really sent him away and to return to set things right.

"We can't change the past," she told him in a low voice, her tone as neutral as she could possibly make it. "All we can do is look to the future, and make it a better place for our children, dearest. We won't make the same mistakes again, and we won't let them be caught in the same traps."

"Nae, we won't," he agreed emphatically, and far away from Dreven and Triad, there was no reason to worry about such things. Marissa had been confident no one would who wished them harm would find them here, and Duncan trusted her with their lives. It was because of her they had been brought here to safety.

"And if anyone causes harm to our family or our friends, you will have to peel the skillet out of my cold, dead hands before I stop beating the living hell out of them," she added comically. The thought of Mara doing anything like that was farcical.

Farcical to most people maybe, but not to Duncan. He could just see Mara doing just that. He chuckled though, glad the serious moment had passed without incident or argument. "I don't put it past you, love," he said, reaching to fill his plate with bread and cheese and pork to create a makeshift open-faced sandwich of sorts. "How are you and Marin getting on?" he asked curiously, enjoying the quiet of the moment.

Nibbling herself, she took a moment to consider the question. "I do not quite know," she admitted thoughtfully. "We are very different people, and yet there is something in her that calls to me. She is so very capable, in a way that I do not think I will ever be, and yet she has a love for music that transcends all of it. To be so small in such a large world, and to have forged such a place at the heart of the land you call home ....I am a little intimidated by her."

"You are as capable as she is, Mara, and just as strong," he told her, reaching over to give her hand a soft reassuring squeeze of fingers. "You've been through so much," he said, gentling his voice. "You raised our son on your own. It's a testament to you that he's such a fine lad. I only wish I had been there to help."

"You are here now," she reminded him, some need urging her up from her seat to find her long-missed place in his lap. Perhaps it was the talk of their past hurts, or the unsettled feeling she might never find a place to fit into here, but the one place she knew she had safety and love was in Duncan's arms. "That is truly all that matters, dear heart."

"I'm happy here with you, love," he said as she found his lap, his arms going around her, lunch forgotten for now. They had years apart to make up for, and each moment together was precious to him. He touched his fingers to her cheek, pushing her hair back from her face before tracing her lips.

She curled into him, needing nothing more than to feel his arms about her, to smell his skin. Even if he did smell like a horse. A low sigh ghosted from her lips to warm his neck as she laid her head on his shoulder. "I love you," she whispered to him. "Our son loves you. Elise loves you. We'd be nothing without you, Duncan. Please don't ever forget that."

He arched a brow down at her as she laid her head against his shoulder and sighed contentedly. "I think it's the other way around, love," he told her quietly and sincerely. He would be nothing without her, and he knew it. "You don't know what my life was like without you, Mara. I missed you every day of my life."

"I'll never know what your life was like," she murmured softly. "But I can guess a little of it. I missed you so much it hurt. I never thought you would ever forgive me for what I did to you." She curled her arms about him, brushing a gentle kiss to his throat. "And yet here we are. It's almost too good to be true."

"Mara, my dearest," he started, gentling his voice again, even as she touched a kiss to his throat, which had a strange but familiar effect on certain parts of his body that had nothing to do with kissing. "There's nothing we can do to change the past. It's over. We can only learn from it. What I've learned is that life is fragile and every moment is precious and made to be cherished. Never waste a moment. That's what I've learned." He'd also learned that he loved her more than all the stars in the sky, but he thought she must already know that by now

"I will never waste another moment, I swear it," she promised him faithfully, raising green eyes to his with fierce determination, her hand tenderly curling to his cheek. "Never again." The pad of her thumb swept over his cheek as she nuzzled to him lovingly, hunger forgotten in the quiet warmth between them.