When Zorana glared at Konstantine, he changed his laughter to a cough. Tasya and Ann packed the picnic basket with the other loaf of bread, good cheese, and a fine Wilder zinfandel. Karen fetched an afghan off the couch and some throws out of the cedar chest in the living room. Rurik and Jasha headed outside to inspect the horse barn and the perimeter. As Zorana swept her grandson out of his high chair and wrapped him in a blanket, Konstantine objected. ‘‘Don’t coddle the boy.’’ ‘‘Don’t worry that they’re going to turn him into a sissy, Papa.’’ Adrik gathered up their rain gear. ‘‘Aleksandr is already a warrior. Nothing these women do can change that.’’ Karen lost her temper at last. ‘‘Adrik, I only have one nerve left, and you’re standing on it.’’ Adrik brought a jacket and helped her into it, then took her arm. ‘‘I love you, sweetheart. Now . . . you’re much better, but you’re limping still, and I know those ribs are giving you pain. Let me help you to the barn.’’ She resisted for a moment, then leaned against him.
