Donna Fletcher Short Story Collection (4 page)

“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
.

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.”