He tightened his hold on the lad intending to keep him and his wife safe.
The little fellow turned frightened eyes on Eric and with a tear about to fall from the corner of one eye he said, “I’m not a hobgoblin.”
“No. No you are not,” Eric said firmly as if he had issued a decree. “And everyone will see that for themselves.”
And they did. Villagers scurried out of their cottages even though the rain had begun to fall once Eric and Faith entered the village. Relieved smiles spread across a sea of faces and wagging tongues began spreading the news.
The Irish Devil had caught the hobgoblin and he was nothing more than a young lad.
Once they entered the keep Faith turned to Eric. “You will see to our son while I see to washing and feeding the lad?”
Did he have a choice? He certainly did. He was the chieftain of his land, his orders followed without question. He could direct a servant to see to the lad’s care. Faith was already exhausted from tending so many of the villagers today and caring for their son. Seeing to the lad would only exhaust her more and no doubt end any thought of sharing a night of love with her.
He wanted to grumble and protest and demand to know when she would have time for him. But he didn’t. He had understood since they had first met that Faith’s healing work was important to her as was caring for people. And she never failed to show how much she cared for him, so he couldn’t be selfish now.
“Do what you must. I will see to our son.”
She smiled and kissed his cheek. “I realize more everyday why I love you so very much.”
Damn if he didn’t want to drop the lad in a servant’s arms, scoop up his wife and carry her to their bedchamber and lock everyone out for the entire night.
Instead he handed the lad over to Faith and as he did, he asked, “Your name, lad.”
“Ian,” the boy said softly and wrapped tight arms around Faith’s neck.
“We will talk later, Ian.”
“If he’s not too tired,” Faith said.
Eric had to grin at his wife’s retreating back. She made off fast enough with the lad before he could respond. It mattered not, she knew only too well he would have his way if he so desired. His only desire, however, was his wife and he knew he would have to eventually accept the inevitable. He and his wife would not have their night of love.
Borg entered the great hall with a smiling Ryan in his arms. Once the babe caught sight of his father his eyes turned wide along with his smile. Eric reached out and took hold of him and his son snuggled against him, his tiny hand tugging at Eric’s long braid.
“I see that the hobgoblin is nothing more than a little, lost lad,” Borg said.
Eric glanced down at his son who had settled contentedly in the crook of his arm, fighting to keep his eyes opened and focused on his father, the braid already forgotten. Though his son fought with determination, sleep won the battle. His heart soared with love and pride for his slumbering son. He would go mad with worry if anything ever happened to him. And he wondered if Ian’s parents were feeling that madness now or were they gone and the little lad on his own?
“He’s only a bit of a thing,” Eric said. “I wonder how long he’s been on his own.”
“From his frightful appearance I would say some time,” Borg said. “At least he is now safe.”
Eric nodded knowing that was true enough, but did Ian know. To him all were strangers, though he doubted the lad felt that way about Faith. No doubt she replaced the mother he was missing and possibly lost to him forever. So how safe then could the lad feel?
Eric put his son down to sleep for the night in the cradle in their bedchamber, with a servant watching over him, knowing it was useless to keep believing he’d have his night of love with Faith. A quick visit to see how Faith was doing confirmed that. She had ordered a second tub with fresh bath water, the first far too dirty to continue scrubbing the lad.
Faith told him not to wait supper that she would eat along with Ian before she put him to bed.
Resigned to a night alone Eric took supper with Borg, his wife Bridget tending a few ailing villagers while Faith tended to Ian. The night wore on with conversation finally lagging between the two men and for good reason; they booth missed their wives.
Eric finally bid Borg good-night and left him to wait for Bridget.
He made his way to the bedchamber, not far from theirs, where Faith had planted the lad. He planned on bidding his wife good-night and seeing if by chance she would soon be finished and perhaps then they could salvage part of the night.
Eric was surprised to see his wife gone and Ian all alone in the bed that looked much too big for his small frame. No doubt his wife had been called to tend an ill villager, one that needed more knowledge than Bridget had.
Eric almost didn’t recognize him, he was so clean. His hair was now light brown with traces of blond and his skin had been scrubbed pink. His thin body still however quivered even with two blankets covering him and a good fire heating the room. And his eyes, that had remained the color of the rich earth soil, hadn’t lost their fear.
One step took him into the room and another had him beside the bed. He sat though the lad’s rounded eyes wished otherwise.
“You are safe, Ian,” Eric said knowing how important it was for the lad to believe him. He intended to reiterate it as often as possible until the lad finally accepted it.
Ian didn’t respond, he continued to stare though this time his lower lip began to quiver.
Eric reached out to comfort the lad but when he cringed clamping his eyes shut, Eric moved his hand away.
“No harm will come to you here,” Eric said reinforcing his wife’s earlier words.
Ian opened one eye, though said nothing.
Eric wondered if perhaps the lad did have parents to return to and worried that he would be kept from them. So he sought to ease any concerns.
“If you have been separated from your parents I can help you find them,” he offered.
Tears fell as Ian opened his eyes. “I’m alone.”
His quivering words tore at Eric’s heart. No child especially one so young should be alone and frightened.
Eric reached out and even though Ian cringed again, he scooped him up and plopped him down on his lap, wrapping a firm arm around him. “You have me now. You will have shelter and food, but more importantly you will have a family who will care for you and love you. Never again will you be alone.”
Tears streamed down the lad’s cheek and he hesitantly asked, “You will be my da?”
Eric did not hesitate. “If you want me, I would be only too proud to be your da.”
More tears ran down Ian’s face, though this time the tears were joyful. “I want you to be my da.”
“Good, then it is done. You are now the son of the Irish Devil.”
The lad’s eyes rounded wider than Eric had ever seen them and he whispered, “My da’s the Irish Devil?”
“That he is,” Eric confirmed with a grin.
Suddenly Ian’s body stopped quaking and he quivered no longer when he spoke, “I thank you, sir, for helping me.”
“Call me da and you are most welcome... son.”
Ian smiled, his tears stopped and his body trembled no more.
Eric tucked him back in bed. “Get some sleep. You have a whole family to meet tomorrow.”
With a kiss to the lad’s brow, Eric walked to the door.
“Da,” Ian said as if testing the name.
Eric turned.
“I’m sorry I scratched you.”
“Don’t worry about that. You did what you had to do to survive, the sign of a strong warrior. Go to sleep now and know you are safe.”
Ian closed his eyes a smile spreading across his face.
Eric walked down the hall to his bedchamber. It had been quite a day. Not at all what he had expected and the ending rather a surprise for he had gained another son.
Of course he was disappointed that he would not
have his night of love with his wife. But no doubt she was exhausted and already asleep. And he would not disturb her rest even though he ached to.
Resolved, he slowly opened the door to his bedchamber and not wanting to wake Faith; he slipped in and quietly shut the door then turned.
He stood staring in disbelief. His wife stood in front of the fireplace wearing a soft wool night dress that draped down along a freshly scrubbed shoulder, the skin pink and shiny from a recent scrubbing. Firelight silhouetted her naked body beneath and her fiery red hair fell in a mass of curls past her shoulders to rest near the tips of her firm breasts.
“Ryan is with Bridget and Borg,” she said and held her hand out to him. “The night is all ours.”
Eric walked over to her, scooped her up in his arms and walked to the bed ready and eager to share a night of love.
~ The End ~
You can read how Faith and Eric got together in The Irish Devil. The second book in the two-book series is Irish Hope.
Christmas Love
Based on characters from the book—Return of the Rogue
Cavan Sinclare wrapped his arms around his wife Honora’s slim waist and tucked her back against him. He nuzzled her neck enjoying the feel of her soft, delicate skin and the scent of fresh pine. He wished he could scoop her up and carry her back to bed, but he could tell she was eager to start the day, and they had lingered making love last night.
“I never grow tired of loving you,” he said.
She turned with a flourish, a hint of passion in her violet eyes and the hearth’s firelight causing her long black hair to glisten. Perhaps he could gently coerce her back to bed.
“I am so excited and happy for your mother,” she said and gave him a quick kiss before slipping out of his arms and hurrying to retrieve her green wool shawl from the end of the bed.
Cavan’s ardor quickly turned to irritation, though not at his wife.
Honora tossed the heavy shawl around her shoulders as she returned to her husband and wrapped her arms around him, not an easy task since he was a broad muscled man.
She pressed her cheek to his. “Your mother is happy, be happy for her, besides what a better day for a wedding than Christmas day.”
Cavan grunted before giving his wife a quick kiss.
“Be grateful that she has found a good man to love her.” She chuckled. “It’s obvious how much Hagen loves your mother. He’s forever holding her hand and kis—”
“I’ll hear no more,” Cavan said shaking his head.
Honora chuckled again. “Your mother is a woman and women have nee—”
“No more I said.” Cavan moved away from his wife and braced his hand on the rough hewn mantel and glared at the flames.
She walked over to him and rested her hand gently on his back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Cavan turned, grabbed her around the waist and yanked her up against him. “I am trying to come to terms with my mother marrying again. I know she deserves to be loved again, and I know that Hagen is a good man and will be good to her. He better be or my brothers and I will kill him.” He shook his head. “It’s just...” He didn’t finish, he couldn’t.
“I think I know what troubles you,” she said softly.
He waited, aware that most times she knew him better than he knew himself.
“You wonder if you were lost to me, would I ever... love again.”
Damn, if she didn’t know his every thought. “It is a notion that haunts me, though it shouldn’t. You have a right to love again if something should happen to me and yet”—he shook his head again—“I cannot stand the thought of it.”
“Neither can I,” she said and her kiss proved it. It was a hungry, wanting kiss driven with a passion that stirred them both. When it reluctantly ended, she whispered, “I will never love another man the way I love you. And never ever would I want another man to touch me. I am yours and yours alone as you are mine.”
Cavan grinned from ear to ear. “I am glad to hear that.”
“Good,” Honora said and patted his hard chest. “Now it is time to convince your scowling brothers that this wedding is a happy occasion.”
He laughed. “As their chieftain, I’ll order them to be happy.”
She smiled and shook her head. “You’ll convince them.”
With his hand to the small of her back, though he was tempted to move it lower, he hurried her out the door. “I’ll do my best.”
“Then all will be well,” Honora said.
When they got to the great hall, they both had second thoughts.
It was complete chaos.
Garlands were being draped, wreaths made, berries strung, white candles being nestled among the pine branches on top of the massive mantel and the aroma of mulled cider tempted the nostrils and tongue. Not to mention even more delicious scents drifting in from the kitchen.
Addie hurried over to Cavan, her narrow face flushed and her red hair liberally streaked with gray coming undone from the two combs that had held it secured to the back of her head. “If you’re going to object to my wedding then go join your brothers outside where I sent them.” She sniffled, fighting back tears. “I will never stop loving your father, but he is gone, and Hagen is good to me and loves me and”—a tear fell—“I miss being loved.”
Cavan slipped his arm around his mother’s shoulders and hugged her close. “I am laird of the clan Sinclare and I declare your wedding day to be a joyous occasion. And I am happy for you, Mum.”
Addie threw her arms around her son, then sniffled again and gave him a gentle shove. “Now go inform your pouting brothers about your decree before I take a stick to the lot of them.”
Cavan laughed. “It would serve them right.” He gave another quick glance around the hall. “Where are the children? I thought they were helping.”
Addie laughed. “Helping? More like underfoot.”
“They’re all with Mave helping her bake the special Christmas cakes with surprises inside them,” Addie said. “Though how the lass handles such a playful group being so large with child herself, I don’t know.” She shook her head.
“Mave has all the children?” Cavan asked.
“Aye, every one of them. Your twins Tavish and Ronan, Zia and Artair’s Blythe, Lachlan and Alyce’s Roark and even though your daughter Kate, and Ronan and Carissa’s son Ryan, are but two years, they’re with the lot of them. Mave has a way with children, and it’s so glad I am she’s finally having one of her own.”
“She must need help by now,” Honora said and with a kiss to her husband’s cheek she left his side.
He watched her go and thought, as he so often did, how lucky he was to have married her.
Addie squeezed his arm. “Your father was relieved and happy when you agreed, even though reluctantly, to honor the marriage contract to Honora upon your return home. He had always felt she was the right woman for you.”
“He was right, and I am grateful that he was a wise man.”
"Champion!” Addie shook her head. “That dog is forever getting himself into trouble.” She hurried to tend to the large animal who had become her constant companion shortly after her husband had died, and who she had thoroughly spoiled.
Cavan took in the scene before him and smiled. It might look chaotic, but they were happily preparing for a special celebration, and if it took knocking his brothers’ heads together to make certain the celebration was festive, so be it.
He grabbed his fur-lined cloak from the peg on the wall and walked out of the keep.
~~~
Just before Honora reached the kitchen Lachlan’s wife Alyce caught her by the arm.
“Zia needs your help,” Alyce said and tossed a heavy wool cloak to her.
Honora draped it over her shoulders as she followed her sister-in-law out of the keep. She had no siblings, and so her three sister-in-laws had become true sisters to her. Carissa, Ronan’s wife joined them along the way.
“I heard Zia needed h
elp,” Carissa said.
“Not sure what it’s about,” Alyce said. “I only know it’s urgent.”
They hurried along knowing Zia well enough to know that urgent meant a serious matter and in no time they were at Zia’s healing cottage.
Usually calm and confident, it was surprising to see Zia, her long red hair with blond streaks flying wildly about her and her green eyes aglow with worry.
Alyce, the most analytical of them took hold of her arm and spoke calmly. “Tell us what’s wrong and we’ll help.”
“Holly, the young girl who arrived here with her husband Patrick only a few days ago and about ready to give birth has gone into labor. She’s been having some problems, and I fear she may bleed more than she should. I have searched my entire cottage and can find no root plant to help stem the bleeding. And I have no time to go collect some.”
“I’ll go get what you need,” Alyce offered.
At that moment a servant came running into the cottage upset. It seemed there was a mishap in the kitchen and Roark and Ryan needed immediate attention. Alyce and Carissa went running.
Zia grabbed her healing basket, she kept in readiness by the door, and stopped to cast pleading eyes at Honora.
“Don’t worry. I’ll get Neddie to help me find what you need.”
“You’ll need to hurry,” Zia said and was out the door.
Honora didn’t waste a moment. She found Neddie, Zia’s helper and they were soon hurrying across the snow covered moors to the woods. Gray clouds and bitter cold warned of more snow, so the two women hurried along, not wanting to get caught in a storm.
In no time, Neddie found the root plant, and she and Honora used thick sticks and flat stones to dig up several. They filled the basket to be certain they had enough.
When they were all done they turned with a flourish eager to be on their way, stopped with a sudden jolt and screamed.
Donna Fletcher Short Story Collection Page 3