“But then my hair would be windblown.” Bestowing one last kiss, lingering to tug his bottom lip with her teeth, Maeve said, “Come on, my family doesn’t bite as much as I do.”
Soren shuddered as he let her lead him by the hand out the door and off to luncheon.
He should’ve known by now that Maeve was right—she usually was. Soren was thoroughly distracted by his cheerful, talkativemate all the way to her family home. He couldn’t help stealing glances at her, in awe of her loveliness—and to see if he could spot any sign of the wicked underthings she’d hidden away.
Before he knew it, he stood with Maeve before her family, arrayed in a fan around them. It didn’t help that the semicircle of them reminded him of a pincer or jaw about to snap shut, with him and Maeve inside it.
Sorcha and Orek were the first to greet them, offering warm welcomes. Soren shook Orek’s hand in the human way, as if he hadn’t just seen the man the day before yesterday. He’d taken Maeve’s suggestion of speaking with Orek about the orcish experience of internal beasts and instincts and found it fascinating. More fulfilling though was working with Orek and Sorcha’s brother Connor on projects. The two men were good, quiet company, a pleasant change from his boisterous brothers.
Connor himself was next, looking freshly washed. Soren had heard from Maeve and Orek about how Connor had been sleeping in the smithy before, loath to come inside. Soren understood that to be uncommon for humans. Apparently, Sorcha had turned her attention on Connor, and whatever she did had certainly improved his look…and smell. The man was still gaunt, a haunted look to him, but he seemed sturdier, at least.
Soren couldn’t help throwing back his shoulders when Niall pushed forward to take his hand next. Although the shortest of the three Brádaigh brothers, he was by far the stockiest, his knight’s physique apparent. He most resembled Sorcha out of the other siblings, his hair also a dark, rich brown with tight curls, although his were kept shorn. He did share Maeve’s glittering golden brown eyes, though, and those eyes were sharp as they assessed him.
“Glad to finally meet you,” said Niall, pumping and squeezing Soren’s hand more than necessary.
“Likewise.”
Finally breaking their shared stare, Niall looked down to consider Soren’s arms. He even stepped forward, still keeping Soren’s hand, to poke the muscle of his bicep.
“He’s thicker than you usually prefer,” Niall noted.
Maeve scoffed, hugging Soren’s other arm to her chest, as she glared at her brother, but Niall only nodded.
“I approve. I’d prefer you had a man who didn’t blow over in a stiff wind.”
Maeve rolled her eyes. “As if we don’t share tastes, dearest brother.”
Niall’s face turned positively impish, his lips curling in an arrogant grin he shared with Maeve. “Perhaps you and Sorcha are onto something.”
Said Sorcha coughed delicately. “He’s going to fly away again if you two don’t stop it with the innuendo.”
Soren himself laughed at that. “I’ve promised Maeve, no more flying away.”
“Not unless he takes me with him,” Maeve declared, bouncing on the balls of her feet.
With her hold on his arm, Maeve pulled him along to the third and last brother, Calum. Barely a man now, he was still lanky in the way of youths, all limbs and knobby joints. He was already the tallest of his siblings although slim, and a pair of spectacles rested on his nose. Calum held out his hand to shake, revealing ink stains on his fingers.
Once he’d shaken Soren’s hand and shyly welcomed him, Maeve flounced to her brother’s side and tugged him down by the arm for a kiss on the cheek. “You’ll have to tell me all about the capital. I want to hear all the gossip.”
Calum made a face. “You know I don’t listen for gossip.”
“Then you’d better have brought my soap,” she threatened with a mock glare.
“A whole saddlebag full,” laughed Niall.
Honestly, Soren was happy to hear it. Maeve always smelled divine, a light citrus scent cut with sweet, rich vanilla. With her enjoyment of soaps and lotions, Soren’s fur had never been so glossy and soft.
Next was Blaire, whom Soren had already gotten to know well. Of a similar age to Kiri, the two had become fast friends and study partners once Maeve introduced them. Kiri’s optimism and sunny disposition had helped Blaire get through the doldrums of studying for her exam, and having someone a year younger to explain things to seemed an excellent comprehension exercise for Blaire.
Soren was heartened to see Kiri making more friends his own age. He was the oldest by several years at the school, and so having another older youth as a friend was invaluable.
Truly, his mate was ever so clever.
Maeve took Blaire’s hands to hold her arms wide. “Is this the new gown?”
Nodding shyly, Blaire confirmed, “Yes, the one I told you about.”
“Iloveit,” Maeve effused, “lavender is the perfect color for you.”
