Could he have gone back? Maybe tried again to convince them to let her stay with these people who held her heart. An uneasy feeling nagged at her. An unnatural rift in the energies disturbed her dreams at night. Ciara felt it. Something had gone terribly wrong with Alec.
She held her son closer in his plaid blankets, inhaling a deep breath; she loved his sweet baby scent. The comforting weight of his warm, little body helped her concentrate and channel her powers. She projected her emotions out into the cosmos and sent her maternal feelings across time and space. She wanted the goddesses to feel what she felt. She wanted them to know the potential depths of her pain, to feel the ache of what she stood to lose.
Once again, she called out to Alec. Many times, over the eons, she’d connected to him in this way. She’d often guided his wandering energy back to her when she’d jumped centuries in pursuit of a foe. But her call came back empty. The stars winked as silent as the waning moon where it floated on the horizon.
Ciara pulled her shawl closer around her sleeping child and rose from the bench with a disappointed sigh. The evening hour was already upon them. The air chilled as the sun settled from the sky. A pale star teased in the darkening night. Ciara looked once more into the fading light of the setting sun and sent out one last call to her friend. “Alec, wherever it is that you’ve gone, a piece of my heart goes with you. I hope it finds you well, my dearest friend. You truly are missed.”
* * *
Baking day.Ciara adored baking day. She’d often hovered unseen through the kitchens of well kept keeps just to breathe in the sweet smells from their ovens. Ciara always had a weakness for the inviting scent of fresh-baked bread. The intoxicating aromas from Sorcha’s labors pulled her in even more with the heady sweetness of the rich yeasty bread. A hearty stew bubbled toward the back of the hearth. The frugal use of leftover meat bones from last evening’s meal proved Sorcha’s successful management of the MacKay kitchens. Ciara’s mouth watered as she inhaled again. Nothing went to waste.
Sorcha’s sleeves were rolled past her elbows, as she punched and worked the dough. A fair dusting of flour covered the ever-present apron lashed about her waist. The color rode high on her weathered cheeks from the heat of the massive stone ovens. But not a drop of sweat peppered across her brow as her muscled hands kept the dough in constant motion.
Ciara noticed a new serving girl across from Sorcha at the other side of the counter. She stifled a smile as the child wrestled with an enormous ball of yeasty dough. Her skinny young arms trembled as she wallowed in the well-floured ball. Although the maid was clearly just entering the stages of young womanhood, the girl still appeared sorely disadvantaged. Sweat coursed down the sides of her narrow face and she appeared about ready to collapse.
Her nose lifted as though she were a hound on the scent, Ciara closed her eyes and her stomach growled in blissful anticipation. Fresh baked bread hot from the oven. Heavily crusted and lavished with a generous dollop of butter. She could make a meal out of a single slice…or maybe two. If it weren’t for the fact that she was on a mission, Ciara would introduce Keagan to this wondrous treat. Now that he was teething, a thick crust of bread would be perfect for him to gum. But that would have to wait. She had to find Faolan to show him what his son had just discovered he could do.
“Where’s Faolan?” Ciara strolled around the worktable with a chortling Keagan astraddle one hip. The lad contentedly bounced one leather-clad foot against her side as though she were his favorite steed. She tousled his silvery hair out of his eyes; her heart swelling as she hitched him closer.
Sorcha beamed at Keagan’s toothless smile as she wiped her hands on her apron. She offered the teething toddler a juicy well-gristled bone and then chucked him under the chin. “Ye know we all love ye, don’t ye, laddie?”
Ciara smiled at her chortling son as he puckered up and leaned forward to give Sorcha a smacking wet kiss. Keagan held everyone’s hearts tight in his tiny little fists. He had them all wrapped around his chubby little finger. It never ceased to amaze Ciara, whatever Keagan wanted, Keagan always got.
Sorcha patted an escaped wisp of gray hair back into the bun twisted at the base of her neck as she turned to Ciara. With a nod toward the back entrance to the kitchens, she re-tied her apron about her waist. “I saw the laird and Master Maxwell heading toward the stables. They’ve got to decide which of the new colts they’re going to keep.”
With a mysterious wink, Ciara motioned for Sorcha to follow as she headed toward the door. “Well, Keagan and I have something to show him. Come with us, Sorcha. You’ll want to see this too.”
As Sorcha followed, she laughed out loud at Keagan as he peeked at her over Ciara’s shoulder. As he gnawed his treat, his plump, rosy cheeks shone with the grease he suckled from the teething bone.
Once out into the courtyard, Ciara glanced toward the stable in search of Faolan and Maxwell. They stood in front of the stone trough beside the building, caught up in some sort of serious discussion.
Faolan stood with his arms folded across his chest, eyes narrowed, his chin in one hand. He stared into Maxwell’s animated face, nodding in agreement with whatever Maxwell attempted to explain.
Ciara stopped and took a deep breath. She shivered as a delicious tingle rippled through her belly. Her gaze caressed her husband’s body and she licked her lips as a surge of warmth flooded through her. She’d never tire of admiring Faolan, no matter how many centuries she had to look at him. Keagan had just started sleeping the night through, allowing them to return their attentions to each other.
Rebelling against tradition, Ciara had refused to put Keagan across the keep in one of the cribs in the old nursery. She didn’t care if he’d be under the caring eye of a dutiful woman of the clan. Ciara wanted her son close to her side. She didn’t want to miss a minute of his life and if he cried out in the night, she wanted to be the one to respond.
Therefore, Faolan had ordered a doorway opened into a small room adjoining the laird’s chambers. Keagan’s small bedroom now adjoined their own. His parents responded to his every call.
But now that Keagan was older, he slept sounder and rarely roused anymore during the night. Ciara shivered as she remembered last night’s pleasures and the ecstasy she’d enjoyed in her husband’s arms.
Faolan sensed his wife’s mental caress and turned to her with a smile. The same desire causing her body to tingle mirrored in his eyes. She knew if he had his way about it, he’d pull her into the stables and take her right there in the sweet smelling hay. But too many lingered about and from the bright-eyed alertness of his son’s smiling face; Keagan was nowhere near ready for his afternoon nap.
“We have a surprise for you!” Ciara called out as Faolan and Maxwell headed her way. “Don’t come any closer. Stand right there and see what your son has discovered he can do!”
Faolan grinned and stopped in his tracks. He stood waiting, head tilted to one side. Maxwell crossed his arms over his barrel chest and watched to see what the tot could do.
Ciara extricated the well-gnawed bone from Keagan’s chubby fist and tossed it to an eagerly awaiting dog. All the clan dogs trailed Keagan. Whenever the chortling toddler was about, there’d be an abundance of dropped scraps.
Ciara steadied Keagan on his feet to draw his attention away from the bone. As she squatted beside him, she held his hands until the child realized what his mother wanted him to do.
Spying his father standing just a little way from him, Keagan squealed an excited greeting. His chubby little legs churned into motion; his uneven steps staggering in the dust. In his excitement, he released his mother’s hands, his arms held aloft to maintain his balance. He lurched forward a step then swayed to a dangerously low angle, lilting to one side before he moved again.
Proud laughter rumbling, Faolan dropped to one knee and held out his hands to his son. “Come to me, Keagan. Come to Da. I know ye can do it.”
Keagan clapped his hands and almost lost his balance, swaying until his rump almost dusted the ground. His chubby face furrowed with concentration, he grunted, then staggered forward again.
“Come on, lad. Come to Da,” Faolan prompted once more.
