“You just ate a table of plum cake,” Rory felt the need to point out as Cam wandered in with a niece draped over one shoulder and a nephew under his arm.
“Pffft, that was a nibble here and a nibble there.”
“You ate half of most of those cakes!”
“I’ll call you a liar if you mention this outside these walls, but Mrs. Clackers’s was like eating straw.”
“I should think her husband wouldn’t be happy about that,” Wolf added.
“Exactly why it must not go further than these walls.” Cam turned, swinging his niece and nephew around, making them squeal.
“Come with us, Rory, we are stringing popcorn to put on the tree.” Samantha grabbed his hand.
“Rory needs to sit now, dear.” Essie arrived. “He must rest.”
“I’m all right.”
A hand touched his cheek, then his forehead.
“No, you’re tired. Sit, and I will bring you a tea to help with the pain,” she said. “Samantha, bring the popcorn to him. There is a large comfortable seat there.” She waved to the tree.
He tried to protest. Of course it was ignored, and soon he was sitting, with his sister perched on the arm of the chair. Rory had been under the command of some fierce men in his time, and yet Essie could rival any one of them.
“Drink it all up.”
He took the cup she handed him with trepidation.
“Be a good boy now and take your medicine,” James teased him.
“It’s vile.”
“I know. The viler it is, apparently the better it is for you.”
Sighing, he drank.
He sat, and yes, strung popcorn. Soon he had the twins on the floor before him, charming young ladies who talked a great deal. Samantha, it seemed, was their equal. Looking around the room, he found Max. He’d kept his distance from Rory today, and he had a theory on that. His brother wanted him to understand just what he had here, and that it was his if he chose to embrace it.
There was little doubt he was wavering. He needed to go back to France and see Maddie, and if she was willing, he’d bring her here with her family. They’d be welcome, of that he had no doubt.
“Are you finished yet?” Isabella stood before him.
“I’m going as fast as I can with a sore arm,” he protested.
“He’s soft,” Dev said from his seat where he was threading what looked to be candied fruit.
“Of course he’s soft, he’s lived in France,” Wolf added.
“The French are a great deal tougher than you soft-bellied English noblemen,” Rory said, tying off the ends of his popcorn. He handed it to his niece.
The banter continued, and what surprised Rory was that he participated. Felt the comfort settle around him of being part of this, a family.
Soon they were decorating the tree, and a ladder helped with placement on the higher branches.
“What will we put on the top?” Dorrie looked to the top of the tree. “It should have something up there, surely?”
He’d carried it since Max had carved it for him when he was a babe. It was in his pocket as it always had been. His talisman. Rory had tried to throw it away many times, but never quite managed it. Suddenly the weight felt heavy, and before he could stop himself his hand had touched it, and then he was drawing it out.
“Is that an angel?” Samantha leaned closer to look at what he held.
