It was far greater than that.
He was unequivocally devoted to us.
Chapter 29
Thaddeus
Her scent still clung to us, and waking to it was as wondrous as it was torturous. Wulfric felt the physical ache keenly—but he was far too consumed by elation over how readily Euphemia had taken to him. There had been tears. Kisses. Soft words meant only for him.
If I were honest with myself, I was jealous.
We wanted to see her.
I pushed the covers aside, ignoring my swollen cock, and went about my morning ablutions. Then I chose light tan breeches, a fitted navy tailcoat, and a matching waistcoat. My fingers brushed over the pressed shirts before I remembered—most of my clothing was still at the cottage.
I selected a crisp white shirt.
My bed linen and remaining garments had been folded and tied into a knapsack—fabric steeped in our mating scent.
Dear God. I missed her heat.
Wulfric hummed beneath my sternum.
Once dressed, I went to the kitchen and gathered what I could—fruit scones, butter, mixed meats, bread, and fresh fruit—loading it all into a basket before setting out for Euphemia’s croft.
The need to feed our potentially pregnant mate was non-negotiable.
The brisk morning walk was invigorating, though I nearly landed on my arse more than once on the ice before learning which patches to avoid. Wulfric made it look effortless with his broad, padded paws—an unfair advantage, given his four legs to my two.
A short while later, I stood at her door, raising my hand to knock just as it flew open.
She’d felt us through the bond.
“Good morning, Miss MacDonald,” I said politely.
She wore no cap or scarf, and there was no drab work dress in sight. Instead, she stood wrapped in a woollen gown of deep green, the fabric heavy and warm, with subtle threads of blue woven through it in a soft Highland plaid. The cut was practical and straightforward—long sleeves, fitted bodice, full skirt—but it suited her all the same.
The colours made her red hair blaze brighter by contrast, copper and flame against the darker hues, loose around her shoulders as though she’d only just risen from bed. Even in the cold, she looked warm—alive in a way the grey morning could not touch.
Wulfric stirred at the sight of her.
So did I.
Her scent hung thick in the air between us, and I drew a slow breath of it before she spoke.
“Lord Wulverton, what a pleasant surprise,” she murmured, her eyes lighting up.
“Am no stayin’fur this,” Callum muttered behind her as she stepped aside. He already had his hat and coat in hand.“Am aff tae work.”
I nodded to him as he brushed past, catching the warning in his eyes as he went.
“Come in,” her aunt said gently, pulling a shawl more firmly around her shoulders.
She was petite beside Callum, but there was a quiet warmth to her—something steady and kind—reflected in her soft green eyes.
The croft was basic, but the sight of it warmed me all the same. They had used what I sent—above the hearth, thick evergreen branches had been arranged with care, brightening the small room.
“I brought some food,” I said, handing her the basket before clearing my throat.“I thought perhaps I might share a meal with Euphemia this morning.”
