With a gallant bow of his head, Maxwell held out both hands. “What is it, m’lady? Ask what ye will. We are here to serve our lady as well as our laird.”
With a meek bow of her head, Ciara heaved a great sigh as she glanced at Drealda still whimpering at the table. She pulled them in close, so the old woman couldn’t hear. “Poor Drealda’s wee little dog is hiding from her in the kitchens. Do you think you might find him so she might be at peace? It breaks my heart to see her so upset. The dear woman loves him so.” Rubbing the slight rounding of her belly, Ciara added another pitiful sigh as she batted her eyelashes one more time at both men for good measure.
“Don’t ye worry, Lady Ciara. We’ll fetch the lad and put him in her arms.” Angus nudged Maxwell in the ribs as he headed toward the kitchen.
“Aye, m’lady. Tell Drealda to rest assured. We’ll bring him to her shortly,” Maxwell agreed as he turned with Angus and they headed out of the hall.
“Ye are truly amazing, my fine wicked wife.” Faolan chuckled in her ear. He wrapped his arms about her waist and pulled her back against his chest. “Ye completely motivated my two finest warriors into mobilizing a search for one wee dog.”
Ciara heaved a sigh of satisfaction as she hugged his arms tighter around the small swell at her waist. “They’re very dedicated, caring men. They would’ve done the same for you, if only you’d asked them.”
“Only with a fair amount of ribbing and a considerable amount of complaining.” Faolan laughed as he rocked her to and fro. “I shall have to remember to bring ye along should we ever go into serious battle.”
Ciara shook her head and disagreed as she watched the men return with the little black dog in their arms. “No. You know as well as I do, if it ever comes to serious battle, they both will do whatever you ask. I have never seen two more loyal auras surrounding a pair of mortals in all my many days.”
“A pair of mortals in all your many days? Ye speak as if ye are an ancient immortal.” Faolan nuzzled his face deeper into the braids of her hair as he pulled her tighter into his arms. “When are ye going to tell me your secrets, Ciara? When will I gain your complete trust?”
Her heart grew troubled as Ciara turned in his embrace and wrapped her arms around his neck. “You know all about me you need to know, husband. You would be bored with all the details.”
With a reluctant sigh, Faolan released her from his grasp. As he nodded toward the now ecstatic Drealda where she sat cradling her beloved Jasper, he shook his head as he replied, “Somehow, I doubt that I could ever grow bored with anything about ye, my love. I hope someday ye will be able to trust me enough to tell me who and what ye really are.”
“I am your wife and soon I will be the mother of your child,” Ciara replied. “That’s all that matters. The past is gone. The future is all we need to look toward.”
* * *
Faolan watchedCiara as she stood beside the hearth, scrubbing at Ian’s grubby face as though she were determined to discover if he were a different color.
Ciara had latched onto the lad as he’d walked past on his way to the kitchens. Poor Ian had been unable to escape. She’d scolded him about his personal hygiene, even going so far as to call for a basin of hot water and a rag to get him well on his way to removing a few layers of filth.
Ever since the snowstorm and the aromatic assault of so many unwashed bodies, Ciara had made it her personal campaign to teach the clan the benefits of regular bathing. She now had Ian headlocked against her chest, rubbing at the dirt until his damp skin glowed.
Faolan took a deep breath; a glow of contentment settled in his heart as he watched her wrestle with the squirming boy. Her once flat belly rounded beautifully, proud testament to his son’s growth within.
Ciara had sworn to him the bairn was a boy and Faolan knew better than to question her. He’d never thought he would find such a sense of peace as his heart overflowed with now. He felt more for Ciara then he could put into words; his emotions obliterated every barrier he’d ever set. If this was what his parents and siblings had found, then Ciara was right: this complete connection was worth any sacrifice.
He chuckled under his breath and finally took pity on the poor boy struggling against Ciara’s soapy rag. Ian wormed around with his eyes screwed tightly shut as he wriggled against Ciara’s ministrations. Faolan crossed the room to rescue the boy before she scrubbed his pink skin raw.
“Ciara, leave the boy a bit of his hide. Ye are going to scrub a full year’s growth from the lad.”
Ciara paused, about to rinse the rag as she held Ian’s chin trapped in her hand. “There’s a full year of filth on this child. I’m not even sure it’s Ian. By the time I’m through washing all the dirt away, I might find there’s a girl standing in these clothes.”
“I am not a girl,” Ian piped up with a horrified squeak as he tried backing out of Ciara’s unrelenting grasp.
Capturing Ciara by the shoulders, Faolan couldn’t resist a rumbling chuckle. What a fine mother. She’d keep their son well in line. “I shall speak to Sorcha about getting Ian into one of the tubs tonight when the guards go to bathe.” As he turned to Ian, Faolan shared a hidden wink with the boy and jerked his head toward the kitchen. “Run to the kitchen now and get your supper. Ye best hurry while I have the lady in my grasp.”
Ian didn’t waste any time in seizing the opportunity for escape and broke into a dead run toward the kitchens.
Ciara’s eyes narrowed as her gaze settled on Faolan where he still stood with her shoulders in his hands. She tossed the rag into the basin on the table, her prey lost for now. “The boy needs to learn that if he bathes on a regular basis it will greatly improve his health.”
Faolan pulled her close, nuzzled a possessive kiss into the warm silk of her neck, and rested his hand on the small bulge of her stomach. “I promise I will speak to Sorcha. Trust me, since ye explained to her that we all must start bathing to improve our health, there’s no way the lad will escape a good washing when we entrust him to her.”
As he spread his fingers on the promising swell, he nibbled his way up to her ear. “Has my son decided to move yet? Has the quickening finally begun?”
As soon as he spoke, he felt the faintest tap against the palm of his hand. Faolan jerked away and stared down at her waist. His throat caught; a sudden lump of emotion constricting it. He stood stock-still, holding his breath as he waited to see if his child would move again.
A smile of delight lit up her face, as Ciara’s eyes sparkled. “I believe your son just answered your question. He must’ve heard his father’s voice.”
Faolan swallowed hard at the swell of feelings knotted in his throat. He bent and brushed a gentle kiss across her lips. “Thank ye, Ciara,” he whispered against her cheek. “Thank ye for this…and so much more.”
