She stared straight ahead and swallowed hard. “Yes. We have a precious little seed growing.” Her eyes filled with tears and she caught hold of his hand. “I want this baby protected from all the meanness in the world. I can’t bear the thought of anyone being cruel to her or him.”
“Again, my own precious love, that is every parent’s wish.” His chest swelled with emotion as he gently pulled her into his arms. A child. Their child. His heart both soared and pounded with worry. No wonder she had been so distracted of late. “We will protect our children. I swear it.”
“Will I have a baby or give birth to an egg like a Draecna? You came from an egg.” Her pained expression made him wish he had all the answers.
“My father spelled his mystical DNA into a clutch of eggs he coerced my mother into laying for him. That is how he fertilized them. They had no relations. Only words of love, honor, and commitment that she meant, and he did not.”
She shook her head, both feathery brows arching higher. “That does not answer my question.”
Problem was, he had no idea. “I canna say, m’love, because I dinna ken.”
“Would your mother know?”
With the portal repaired and stable enough to transport eggs to the nursery, Taggart felt sure his mother would follow soon after. In fact, he dreaded her arrival. It had been a very peaceful year and a half without her and Septamus constantly offering advice. He would enjoy seeing Thaetus and William again, but Mother? Especially with a child on the horizon? Merlin’s beard; she would be in rare form, indeed. “I am sure once we tell her of the blessing, she will tell us all she knows.”
Hannah eased away from him, donned her wrap, and walked to the window.
He sensed there was more, but his dear one struggled to share it. “Tell me everything, m’love. Please. Let me in so I might help ye bear the weight of whatever troubles ye.”
“This is not our first baby,” she said so softly he almost didn’t hear.
He joined her at the window so as not to miss a word. Gently, he turned her toward him. “What?”
With eyes downcast, she seemed more sad than he had seen her since returning from the dead. “There were two more,” she whispered.
“Two?”
She nodded. “I lost the first one right after you came back.” She wet her lips and turned aside to stare out the window. “I didn’t want to—to trouble you about it. So, I passed it off as a bout of the flu.” She twitched a shrug. “I figured I miscarried because of all that happened. All the stress of the war and your death. And that the next time would be fine.” She squinched her eyes shut and her face crumpled. Huge tears squeezed out and rolled down her cheeks. “But then it happened again. Early on. Earlier than this one. I suspected I was pregnant. Then it was just gone. The doctor confirmed it.” She bowed her head. “I hid that one from you, too. I was so ashamed,” she whispered. She covered her stomach with both hands. “But I can’t keep going through it alone.” She gave him a smile that tore his heart in two. “I am so afraid I am going to lose this one, too.”
What could he say? Perhaps, because of his genetic makeup, they were destined to be childless. “How far along is this one, my precious love?” He eased an arm around her. She had to know she was loved no matter what. This was not her fault.
“Five weeks longer than the last one,” she said. “And it feels—different.”
“Different how?”
She looked up at him; her face brightening with love and hope. “Stronger.” After a faint shrug, she added, “At least, I hope so.”
He rested a hand on her still flat stomach and eased her into atender embrace. “I shall send for Mother immediately. She can help us know what to do to bring our wee one into this world.”
With a flashlike a lightbulb flicking on, Hannah realized her worries seemed somehowlesswhenever she spent time in the nursery. Whether it was because of the soft strains of classical musical or the comforting fragrance of the moon orchids, she had no idea. Maybe it was just because the room had always possessed the promise of life and new beginnings.
New beginnings. She pressed a hand to her stomach, praying this most recent new beginning survived.
“Hannah?”
She lifted her gaze from the empty egg pedestal. Taggart stood just inside the entrance, concern tensing his features. “I am fine.” She made her way to him, took his hand, and pulled him deeper into the room. “I was just realizing that I felt less stressed down here.”
He tipped her face up to his. “I was worried. I dinna like that ye shielded me from your suffering before. Swear ye willna do that again. Not about anything.” He brushed the softest of kisses across her mouth. “We share every burden, ye ken?”
Before she could answer, a gentle breeze fluttered around them and twenty-one shining eggs shimmered into view, floating downward and settling into their indentations in the pedestal. The sight thrilled her. Filled her with joy. One by one, she gave them each a loving caress, smiling as the life within lit them with a welcoming flicker in response to her touch. “They are so beautiful.”
“Indeed, they are, my beloved daughter.”
Hannah turned. The Goddess Isla stood beside Taggart. As did Septamus, Thaetus, and her sweet William. “William!” She rushed to give him a hug. “Look how you have grown.”
The fully matured Draecna, muscular and rugged as any, gave her a sheepish smile. “Thank you, Mother. I missed you, too.”
“I knew she would go to him first,” Septamus grumbled.
