“I… I do not know, in your rooms, mayhap,” Skye stammered. Gaston still made her nervous, even though she knew in her heart that he was completely harmless to the female sex.
In a chorus, Adeliza and Arica suddenly began to wail. Having heard two words from Gaston’s lips was all it took to wake them. Indeed, they knew their father.
His anger abated and he went to their cribs, cooing like all new fathers. Skye watched him, amazed at the speed with which his expression went from hard to soft. He picked Arica up; the baby’s face a mirror of his own as they smiled at each other.
He held the baby around her torso; the only thing visible was her head and arms, and her legs. She kicked her legs vigorously in response to his smiles and whispered words, drooling all over his wrists.
“God help them, they are looking more like me,” he bemoaned lightly.
Skye smiled, picking up Adeliza so she would not scream herself ill. “Remington was saying that this morning. They have your eyes.”
He turned to Adeliza, bending over to nibble on her fingers. “Poor little things. Not to have their mother’s magnificent color.”
Adeliza grinned. “But they have her smile already; broad and magnificent,” he announced with satisfaction, looking back at Arica. “Oh, lord, Skye. I swear that I cannot tell them apart. How horrible of me; I am their father, after all. Shouldn’t I be able to distinguish my daughters from each other?”
Skye shrugged. “They are as two peas in a pod. But there is a trick Remington uses; look at Arica when she smiles. See? She has a tiny dimple in her left cheek.”
He looked closely. “Ah. She does indeed.”
He kissed the babe once more before laying her back down. Briefly turning his attention to Adeliza, his mind began to return to the whereabouts of the girls’ errant mother.
“I must find Remi,” he said, moving for the door. Arica began to scream again and he shrugged helplessly at Skye, who waved him on.
Once again, he set out for their bedchamber at the end of the corridor. If Remington was not there, then he would tear apart the whole bloody castle until he found her.
His anger had returned by the time he reached the door. Slamming it open, he stomped into the spacious bedchamber.
“Remi!” he bellowed.
He received no answer, but he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Turning sharply, he was met with a figure dressed entirely in white. White, fine silk that was absolutely transparent, provocative and enticing, covering all but not concealing. His anger melted into liquid fire.
“Greetings, my lord,” Remington said seductively.
He was actually speechless for a moment. He found himself drawing in a long, appreciative breath. “You… you did not meet me in the bailey.”
She smiled, making his heart thump madly in his ribs. “I thought I would greet you here. Properly.”
He watched her, frozen, as she approached. Her hair was unbound, cascades of curls flowing to her waist. He’d never seen her so beautiful.
Remington stopped before him, her face upturned and gazing at him with such a seductive expression that he felt his knees go weak. By God, he had missed her.
“I am pleased,” he managed to choke out. “You look incredible, Remi. When I last left, you were….”
“I know,” she interrupted softly. “As fat as a cow.”
He shook his head, reaching a hand up to remove his helm. “Nay, love, you were not fat. You looked every bit a new mother.”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “Well put.”
He smiled, his gaze raking over her. “We were speaking of something else not a moment ago. Ah, yes; you were preparing to welcome me home.”
She returned his smile, standing on her toes and snaking her arms behind his neck. “So we were.”
He pulled her to him, all hard armor and mail, but they both knew the gear would come off momentarily. “Make me a warm welcome, then.”
She lifted her mouth for a kiss and he instantly responded, but she stopped just short of meeting his lips. She lingered a moment, feeling his body quivering with anticipation, and they both smiled at her “torture”.
“Welcome home, my lord.”
