Jan Delima - Celtic Moon

Dylan allowed her this time to absorb the enormity of their situation, prepared to accept her anger.

“Okay,” she said finally, looking up with grim determination. “What can I do to help?”

Dylan’s mouth dropped before he tempered his surprise. “Will I ever understand you, woman? I expected anger and instead you offer assistance?”

“Freedom is a cause I’m willing to sacrifice a great deal for.” She spoke with quiet conviction. “Everything except the life of our son, but I believe I’ve already proven that.”

The comparison of Sophie’s plight with his people’s did not set well with his conscience. He wanted to argue that she’d never known real danger, or that her freedom had never been taken from her.

Regrettably, she had the scars to prove otherwise, and guards, even now, who had been ordered to keep her contained to Rhuddin Village.

Therefore, he saw no other course but to offer a harsh reminder instead. “Joshua is a part of me and a part of my world.” His voice rose, tempered by his frustration. “He needs to learn to live with his own kind.”

“I know.” Fire entered her gaze as if lit by a power within, not magical but human. A selfless love so intense it stole his breath, one that proved she would give up everything for what she loved most, even her own freedom.

My people are indeed blind, Dylan thought.

With her shoulders back and her hand resting on the great hound, she looked very much like a pagan warrior queen, not in her appearance but in her conviction. Her strength came from her devotion to her child, he knew, powerful in any race, human or other.

“I will protect Joshua,” he vowed, “but I will also teach him how to protect himself.”

“Then teach him,” she said. “He’s been given every self-defense course I could find, and Matthew helped with lessons, but the more Joshua knows, the better. I’ll not stand in your way; believe me, especially on this. I want our son to be strong.”

Her response made him pause, as he was not accustomed to an agreeable mind-set. And given that the expected storm had passed, darker instincts quickly rose to the surface. Without question, he wanted her to accept that she belonged with him, in his heart— and in his bed. But to see potential for something more, for a partner in his life, for a mate to stand by his side of her own volition, was like adding more temptation to a man who had already lost his soul to this particular enchantress.

The silence became uncomfortable, and his need was such that he no longer trusted himself in her presence. How had he thought to stay away from her at night? “I will go in search of Joshua then.”

She nodded with obvious relief, as if she had sensed an elemental shift in his mood and knew to be frightened. “Dinner will be ready around five.” She checked her watch. “That gives you about two hours.”

“Sophie . . .”

“Yes?” She tilted her head to one side, waiting.

The words he’d been about to say froze on his tongue, expressions of gratitude—and other assertions he knew full well she wasn’t ready to hear. The admission to her mother that he had overheard was the one band that held his sanity, along with her quick rise to pleasure under his hands.

His patience deserved a bloody award.

She prompted, “Is there something else I should know?”

“There are no more secrets between us now,” he answered with honesty. “Well . . . nothing of abnormal importance.”

“Then why do you look so agitated?”

He ran a hand through his hair. Agitated? He almost laughed. She had no idea the level of his agitation. “My patience has ended, Sophie. I know I promised to give you your distance, and not come to you at night, but I can’t wait much longer . . . I need my wife.”

Then he strode out the door, not trusting his response were she to deny their vows yet again.

A SHARP WIND CUT THROUGH THEIR MAKESHIFT ARENA. Dylan had gathered Joshua, along with Luc, and traveled to a secluded field not far from the house. The scent of wet earth and untamed energy hung heavy in the air, drawing out friendly yet uninvited visitors.

His attempt at privacy, it seemed, had been pointless.

Malsum came first, and then another, and soon a crowd of onlookers formed a circle around Joshua as he engaged in defensive maneuvers with Luc. No weapons were used.

Dylan stood with his son, joining in when necessary to demonstrate correct positioning. Pride settled in his chest, unavoidable, for Joshua listened well and adjusted quickly, the only reason the others had been allowed to remain and watch.

His son proved himself a worthy opponent, as Luc had streaks of mud down his back and a look of feral anticipation in his eyes. Not too worthy, however, for Joshua also wore layers of caked mud that covered him from chest to sneakers.

He still had much to learn.

“That’s enough for today,” Dylan said, ignoring a collective groan from the gathered crowd.

“I’m good for another round,” Joshua taunted. “Unless . . . Uncle Luc’s too tired.”

A bark of laughter came from Luc. “Tomorrow we’ll use swords, boy.” His brother was clearly enjoying himself more than he should. “Then we’ll see how you fare with a weight to balance in those gangly arms of yours.”

“It’s almost time for dinner,” Dylan reminded them. “Let’s get you cleaned up before your mother sees you.”

Joshua nodded, persuaded by the lure of food. The others followed, falling behind with murmured praises. Laughter and well-meaning shouts of advice were handed out. It was a pleasant walk, the air filled with promise, as if Joshua’s competence had bolstered a much-needed seed of hope.

Thanks to Sophie, for she’d had the good sense to prepare their child. Taliesin, Dylan assumed, had helped, but she had allowed the instruction. Her intentions had not been to garner respect, he knew, but she had succeeded this day regardless.

A savory scent overwhelmed his senses as he entered the house, ripe with garlic, roasted tomatoes and baking bread. He closed his eyes briefly. For the first time in sixteen years it felt good to come home.

A few of the guards, those loyal to Enid, had already made their excuses to eat in town, and yet they had returned to the house with the rest. And lingered still. Dylan had chosen not to demand their presence at dinner, trusting his wife to earn their loyalty.

As he turned the corner, he heard Sophie say, “Oh, good . . . you’re all here. Grab a plate and something to drink. Pizza night is informal, so help yourself. There are snacks on the tables, and more pizzas on the way out.”

“Wait ’til you try my mom’s pizza,” Joshua bragged. “It’s the best.”

“Is that my son under all that mud?” Sophie chided with good nature, pointing toward the back stairs. “Go get cleaned up. I have a bacon and onion coming out next. I’ll save it for you.”

Tucker stood silent by her side, glaring at all the intruders. Sophie ruffled his ears absently with no inkling of the powerful image she presented with the great hound by her side. There were several hushed whispers and pointed stares amongst the guards.

Dylan bit back a smile, for not one left to eat in the village.

AFTER CHECKING ON HER MOTHER, WHO HAD BEEN ODDLY silent following her walk, Sophie sat for a while with Joshua in his new room. Dylan had taken her aside after dinner and explained that tomorrow night would be their son’s first attempt at a transition. Joshua had been told before her, and could barely contain his excitement, whereas she felt quite nauseated about the whole idea.