Duncan came into the room with one hand hidden behind his back. Before Dierdre could say anything, he grinned and instructed, "Close your eyes."

"Oh, dear," Dierdre replied, and she put down her baby-sewing, covering her eyes with her hands. "What kind of mischief have you been up to?"

"I just remembered, I left these in the tower. I had to get myself re-arrested to get them out." He brushed something soft, sweet-scented, and cool over her face: a sprig of green fern and tiny pale-violet evening stocks.

Dierdre giggled, her eyelashes fluttering, and she reached out her hands to him. "Tickles," she said. "Smells nice. Kiss me and tell me how you got arrested this time."

"I didn't, really. Those poor little creatures were huddled together shivering at the base of the east wall, waiting for the snow to come and finish them off. I rescued them and brought them indoors." He leaned over and kissed her cheek.

She reached her arms around his waist. "Proper kiss," she cajoled, opening her eyes. "That was sweet of you." She winkled her nose. "Did you see? I'm making clothes that even infants will be embarrassed to wear."

He gave her a more-or-less proper kiss, but he was cold enough that, for once, he was more interested in getting as near the fire as possible without immediate excruciation. "I thought we were just going to wrap 'em in handkerchiefs or something."

"Brr," said Dierdre. "You're freezing. What the hell were you doing outside in this weather? Please don't tell me you were only picking flowers?" She made a face at him. "You can dress yours in handkerchiefs. I'm dressing mine in hideous baby clothing. We'll have people pick the prettiest."

"I would not set foot in this weather just to find flowers for you. No offense." He held out his hands to the fire. "I was out buying some applewood and putting it on the countess's expenses. For a cradle."

Dierdre grinned, and took up her sewing again, fussing over it a bit before she started stitching. "A very big cradle?" she asked delightedly. "For two?"