“Still not a fan. And Summer isn’t you. There isn’t a mean bone in her body.”
Khamsin pulled back to give him an offended look. “Did you just call me mean?”
“You know what I mean. You know how to win a fight. Summer doesn’t even know how to pick one.”
“Hmmm.” She reached for one of the plaits dangling from his temple and began twining it around her finger. “I think you may be underestimating her. She is a Season of Summerlea, after all. The blood of the Sun God runs through her veins, same as it does mine.”
“Maybe so, but there’s a reason everyone who meets her is so protective of her, and it’s not because she’s so strong and intimidating.”
“Now you’re saying I’m intimidating?”
“Absolutely. Halla knows, you keepmequaking in my boots.”
“Ha. I wish.” She had the end of his braid now and was idly brushing it back and forth against his cheek.
Wynter smiled and let her pet him to her heart’s content. She was wearing a pretty green frock that was quite fetching. His gaze snagged on the silky expanse of plump breast displayed by the gown’s square neckline. Pregnancy had filled more than his wife’s belly—much to his delight. He bent to kiss her plump bits—only the two soft ones on top, since he couldn’t bend far enough in the chair to reach the hard little mound of her belly.
Well, not so little anymore. He splayed his hands across it, measuring with a slight frown. “How much longer?”
“Another three weeks. Can you believe it?”
“Three more weeks? That can’t be right. They can’t be growing anymore in there. There isn’t any room!”
Khamsin laughed. “Tell the babies that!”
She squealed when he scooped her up out of his lap and lifted her so that he could press his mouth to her belly. “Time’s up, my lads. Come on out, now.”
His response was a tiny thump in the mouth as one of the babies either kicked or punched him.
He grinned at Khamsin and set her back down in his lap. “Did you see that? Not even born yet, and one of them is already giving their father a whack on the chin. He’s a fighter.”
“Orsheis.”
His grin softened. “Or she is. Like her mother.”
Khamsin looped her arms around his neck and smiled at him, her gray eyes shining bright against the dark frame of her lashes and her Summerlander brown skin. “Dilys is right, you know. No matter what we think, in the end, Summer, like each of my sisters, will do what she believes is right—including using her weathergifts to help her husband fight pirates.”
“She’s not married to him yet.”
“And never will be if you keep standing in the way. I know you want to protect her—everyone does—but you have to let her live her life. You can’t protect her forever.”
“Watch me.” He smoothed the hair back off her face, loving the silky feel of it against his fingers and the streaks of white that shot through it like lightning in a night sky.
“Wynter.”
“Khamsin.” He kissed her, thoroughly, then smiled at the sight of her hazy, heavy-lidded eyes, pleased with the results of his kiss. “I wouldn’t sell Autumn to that Vermesegrissfor all the gold in Mystral, and I won’t sell Gabriella to this Sealord for him to use, either.”
“Nobody’s talking about selling my sister to Dilys Merimydion. And this is surprisingly righteous talk coming from the man who claimed a warprize wife and threatened to work his way through all four of my father’s daughters until one of us gave you an heir.”
“You showed me the error of my ways,” he declared piously.
“Ha. I think this is more a case of ‘Do as I say, not as I do.’”
It was. It totally was. But he sniffed and said, “I’m only looking out for Summer’s best interests.”
“I think marriage to a man who can love, respect and appreciate herisin her best interest, don’t you?”
“Not if that man intends to use her to fight pirates. He’s a Calbernan mercenary. He values money first and foremost, and the pirates are cutting into Calbernan profits.”
