Page 28 of Honorable Sins

Well, as close to peace as you can get with seven children in the same space. Sadie and Neeve are discussing which is prettier, the angels or the stars. If it were Fitz and Cormac, it would be an argument, but Neeve is too serene for that and Sadie is too sweet to her younger siblings.

Fitz is an amazing big brother, but he is also a twelve-year-old boy and it would worry me if he didn't argue with Cormac sometimes. I hope Sadie lets her inner kid out sometimes too.

With a lot more experience in the kitchen than me, Áine supervises the baking and removal of the cookies from the cookie sheets at just the right time so they don't stick. Being in charge of this small thing seems to relax her and I'm glad for it.

Joy is licking a spoon we used to put the frosting into bags with piping tips in readiness for the cooled cookies.

Mavey has flour streaked through her hair, Sorcha is arranging the already cooled cut shapes into tidy rows that look like art installations, and Cormac’s somehow got cookie dough on the ceiling. Don’t ask. I didn’t.

Mick moves like a storm in the air, the electric current of his presence reaching me before he does. So, when I turn, I'm not even a little surprised to see him with Wraith at his shoulder.

"Da!" Mavey screeches as she runs across the kitchen toward him.

Fitz scoops her up as she passes him though and reminds her not to run so she won't hurt herself before letting her down again. Mavey and Sorcha reach my husband at the same time and he scoops them up in both arms.

We always have a full security detail around us now so Mick can hug his children and hold my hand without worrying about protecting us.

For the first years of my marriage, he never held my hand and I thought it was because he didn't want to. But it was actually because he wanted both hands free to protect me. Even inside our fortress-like home.

He's loosened up a little and I've accepted the constant presence of guards unless we are in our own apartment. Then our security is outside in the hall.

Joy pipes up, "Do you want to help us decorate the cookies, Mr. Fitzgerald?"

Mick’s mouth curves, not quite a smile but close enough. "Nah, cailín. I think I’ll just watch."

Fitz straightens from where he’s pulling a tray out of the oven under Áine's close supervision. "Smells good, yeah?"

"Aye," Mick says, crossing to stand beside me. He rests a hand low on my back, a grounding touch that still makes my pulse flutter. "You’ve made a proper mess of the kitchen, mo ghrá."

I bump his side lightly. "We prefer to call it creative expression."

"Well, you've creatively expressed yourselves on every flat surface, including the floor."

"Just wait until we start frosting the cookies," I warn.

He chuckles under his breath, the sound sending familiar zings of deep contentment and pleasure sparking through my body.

Wraith's eyes are fixed on Áine and her girls, like a man cataloguing every detail to keep it safe. I'm familiar with that expression and it gives me hope for Áine's future. Because there's a yearning element to it that used to be in Mick's eyes, before he knew I loved him and he figured out he loved me.

Áine glances up and catches Wraith looking. She startles, color flooding her cheeks. He doesn’t look away. Doesn’t move. Just meets her gaze with unreadable intensity until she drops her eyes back to the cookies she's removing from the baking sheet.

The buzzer goes off letting us know another batch of cookies is done. Áine startles and then crosses quickly to the oven.

Wraith steps forward. "Let me." His big hands barely fit in the bright red oven mitts Fitz hands him.

"Thank you," she murmurs as Wraith sets the hot cookie sheet onto the wire trivets.

Wraith nods his head in silent acknowledgement of her gratitude.

Mick’s hand tightens on my hip. "How long will decorating the cookies take?"

"Long enough we should probably feed the children dinner first. I had to promise we'd order in to get our cook and her staff to vacate the kitchen for us."

"You'll stay for dinner," Mick says to Áine, instead of asking.

"We get to eat here?" Joy erupts before her mother can answer the non question. "In the castle?"

"It's not a castle, sweetie," Sadie tells her sister.