about.”
“Is
that why you rush home when the Bold charges out to fight.”
Stunned
she whipped around to study him while he studied the path her son had taken. “Aye,
but that’s not what most think.”
“When
we ride off Bold shuts these gates up, tight orders. Sometimes for days if not
weeks.”
“I
can’t be away so long.” She whispered.
“Doesn’t
Ingrid watch him?”
Seonaid
snorted. “Oh, aye, and she was watching him when I went home two days ago.
Only she left just after dawn, making him wait alone until I returned near
dark.” A shudder ran though her at the memory as Paraig turned to stare.
“She
left him alone?”
“Aye.
I finally tracked her down this morning. She was with Deidre.”
“They
both left him?”
Seonaid
shook her head. “No, I don’t believe so. Deidre seemed as surprised as me.”
She hesitated before adding, “I’m happy to have Deidre in my home but Ingrid
worries me. She’s not right these days.”
“You
and Deian should move to the castle.”
“No,”
she moved further into the stable, stroked the neck of her horse, “no, there’s
more danger here than out where I live. Something’s not right here at Glen
Toric and I’d rather Deian not be close to that.”
*************************************
Maggie .
"Ian."
Maggie sat up in bed. The whisper of her name rode across dreams on the cusp of
sleep.
Why
would he do that? Why would he wait until she was at Glen Toric, before giving
her a sense of himself? He had done that before.
She
reached out to lay her hand lightly on Talorc's shoulder and waited as the
comfort of his presence stilled her heart. If she'd known how it would feel to
have him close, she never would have fought the bond. Even the sound of
Brutus's now familiar snuffle reassured her against the phantoms of the dark.
Only,
Ian wasn't a phantom to be frightened of.
"Ian."
She whispered, fearful of waking Talorc, who wasn't happy with her attachment
to her twin. He treated it as a threat, as though Ian might try to take her
away. Ian would never do her harm.
But
they were a pair, bonded. Too hard to explain.
She
waited in the still of the night, her gaze piercing the shadows of the room,
her ears strained to hear what couldn't be heard. No figure separated from the
gloom. No sound broke through the quiet. Despite his call to her, she didn't
feel him near.
After
a few minutes, she lay back upon her pillow and wondered if snuggling would
wake her husband. If it did, he could take the blame. Hunger that lapped at the
core of her came from his teachings. She smiled, placed a hand upon his broad
chest, flexed her fingers, and sighed. Better to let him sleep rather than risk
Ian witnessing the wanton she had become.
If
Ian were close.
She
rolled to her side, shimmied her back against the curve of Talorc's front. Deep
in sleep, his arms wrapped around her, one hand covering the slight swell of
her belly, and pulled her more securely into the nest of him.
The
gentle sounds of night lulled her to a doze, neither awake, nor fully asleep. Like
a warm breeze, the call caressed, woke her, wide eyed and worried.
"Ian,"
she whispered, caught between dream and a doze. More under illusion than
reality she grumbled, "Stop waking me. Talk to me in my sleep." And
fell back to slumber.
This
time, when Ian called, she did not bolt into wakefulness but stayed inside the
dream. She was in a small boat, on a quiet stream, asleep, but not quite. She
turned toward the shore, where she knew she would see them.
Ian
grinned broadly, the boy by his side, tugging to get free, to cross to Maggie. A
mere observer, she couldn't speak, could do no more than look down at her
lethargic self. One hand dangled in the water, the other laid protectively over
her belly. Her mind smiled. She felt good, content in her life. Young Ian was
safe in her brother's care, for now.
Then
she frowned. Looked to the swell of her tummy and
“Is
that why you rush home when the Bold charges out to fight.”
Stunned
she whipped around to study him while he studied the path her son had taken. “Aye,
but that’s not what most think.”
“When
we ride off Bold shuts these gates up, tight orders. Sometimes for days if not
weeks.”
“I
can’t be away so long.” She whispered.
“Doesn’t
Ingrid watch him?”
Seonaid
snorted. “Oh, aye, and she was watching him when I went home two days ago.
Only she left just after dawn, making him wait alone until I returned near
dark.” A shudder ran though her at the memory as Paraig turned to stare.
“She
left him alone?”
“Aye.
I finally tracked her down this morning. She was with Deidre.”
“They
both left him?”
Seonaid
shook her head. “No, I don’t believe so. Deidre seemed as surprised as me.”
She hesitated before adding, “I’m happy to have Deidre in my home but Ingrid
worries me. She’s not right these days.”
“You
and Deian should move to the castle.”
“No,”
she moved further into the stable, stroked the neck of her horse, “no, there’s
more danger here than out where I live. Something’s not right here at Glen
Toric and I’d rather Deian not be close to that.”
*************************************
Maggie .
"Ian."
Maggie sat up in bed. The whisper of her name rode across dreams on the cusp of
sleep.
Why
would he do that? Why would he wait until she was at Glen Toric, before giving
her a sense of himself? He had done that before.
She
reached out to lay her hand lightly on Talorc's shoulder and waited as the
comfort of his presence stilled her heart. If she'd known how it would feel to
have him close, she never would have fought the bond. Even the sound of
Brutus's now familiar snuffle reassured her against the phantoms of the dark.
Only,
Ian wasn't a phantom to be frightened of.
"Ian."
She whispered, fearful of waking Talorc, who wasn't happy with her attachment
to her twin. He treated it as a threat, as though Ian might try to take her
away. Ian would never do her harm.
But
they were a pair, bonded. Too hard to explain.
She
waited in the still of the night, her gaze piercing the shadows of the room,
her ears strained to hear what couldn't be heard. No figure separated from the
gloom. No sound broke through the quiet. Despite his call to her, she didn't
feel him near.
After
a few minutes, she lay back upon her pillow and wondered if snuggling would
wake her husband. If it did, he could take the blame. Hunger that lapped at the
core of her came from his teachings. She smiled, placed a hand upon his broad
chest, flexed her fingers, and sighed. Better to let him sleep rather than risk
Ian witnessing the wanton she had become.
If
Ian were close.
She
rolled to her side, shimmied her back against the curve of Talorc's front. Deep
in sleep, his arms wrapped around her, one hand covering the slight swell of
her belly, and pulled her more securely into the nest of him.
The
gentle sounds of night lulled her to a doze, neither awake, nor fully asleep. Like
a warm breeze, the call caressed, woke her, wide eyed and worried.
"Ian,"
she whispered, caught between dream and a doze. More under illusion than
reality she grumbled, "Stop waking me. Talk to me in my sleep." And
fell back to slumber.
This
time, when Ian called, she did not bolt into wakefulness but stayed inside the
dream. She was in a small boat, on a quiet stream, asleep, but not quite. She
turned toward the shore, where she knew she would see them.
Ian
grinned broadly, the boy by his side, tugging to get free, to cross to Maggie. A
mere observer, she couldn't speak, could do no more than look down at her
lethargic self. One hand dangled in the water, the other laid protectively over
her belly. Her mind smiled. She felt good, content in her life. Young Ian was
safe in her brother's care, for now.
Then
she frowned. Looked to the swell of her tummy and
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