Jan Delima - Celtic Moon

She spared him a quick glance. “Those sad blue eyes aren’t going to work on me . . . I’m still not happy with you.”

Tucker made a low noise in the back of his throat, sounding suspiciously annoyed. Good. He had stubbornly refused to follow Joshua when Dylan had taken him to a meeting of the guards.

She wasn’t pleased, but knowing Dylan was there helped ease her worry somewhat, dire warnings of Guardians notwithstanding. Her agreeing to accept their marriage had, in many ways, relieved an enormous burden. She wasn’t alone anymore, and it felt good to have someone else to rely on, trusting Dylan to do everything in his power to keep their son safe.

The kitchen was hot, filled with the scent of baking bread, and occupied by Enid and her two daughters, Lydia and Sulwen. Dylan had warned her beforehand of their arrival. He had also shared a rare moment of his past, and the reason why Enid had earned his leniency.

So it was with greater understanding, and compassion, that Sophie greeted her, “Hello, Enid. I was told you wanted to see me.”

Enid wiped her hands on her apron and approached with hesitation, while the two younger women continued to work behind the counter with their heads down, acting busy. “I want to offer you an apology. As you proposed yesterday, I would like to start anew.”

Sophie understood how hard it must have been for this proud woman to show humility. “I will accept your apology, if it’s genuine.”

“You have my word that it is.”

Truth, whispered through Sophie’s thoughts in a serpentine voice. She froze. The scent of apple blossoms and pollen clung to the back of her throat. She recognized that voice, with its ancient accent and eerie enticements.

You will know lies from truth . . . You will be able to protect those you love most . . .

Unnerved, Sophie pulled at the neck of her blouse and tried to concentrate on her purpose at hand. “Dylan informed me you wish to return to your former position.”

Enid bobbed her head. “He has left the decision up to you, but I started early because . . .” She acted nervous, even submissive, her gaze darting to Tucker and then back to the floor. “Because there is much to be done before the gathering. My daughters have agreed to work on Mondays, as you instructed, for my day’s break.”

“Do you have a menu planned?”

“Of course.”

Sophie walked over to Enid’s daughters. Lydia was stocky like her mother, whereas Sulwen was taller, willowy. “Do you want to work here?” she asked them. “Or is there something else you’d rather be doing?”

The two women exchanged surprised glances.

“We’re here because we want to be,” Sulwen answered.

Lydia added, “It’s good to have a purpose.” Her eyes were the most remarkable color of lavender in bloom. “But it’s also quite nice to be asked if we want it.”

“Then the job is still yours,” Sophie said, “with my gratitude.”

“Thank you for giving our mother another chance.” A slight smile turned Lydia’s lips. “I know she can be . . . um . . . grating to one’s nerves.”

“Lydia,” Enid gasped. “That is not true.”

“Yes, Mother,” Sulwen added. “It is . . . but we still love you.” Biting her bottom lip, she turned to Sophie; her voice sheepish. “I would ask one more favor of you, and understand if you’re not willing . . .”

“Why don’t you ask me and find out,” Sophie said.

Sulwen nodded as if gaining courage, sneaking a glance toward her mother. “I enjoy living in town. Our cottage is beautiful . . .” She sighed. “But our mum misses Rhuddin Hall.”

“Sulwen, hush ,” Enid implored.

“Will you speak with Dylan?” she continued with determination. “He may be more . . . willing to forgive her punishment if the request comes from you.”

“What about you and Lydia?” Sophie wasn’t sure she wanted to persuade Dylan to change his original decision, especially when it concerned internal matters of his home. Nonetheless, it was the first time any person from his household had asked her for help. “Do you wish to return?”

Encouraged, Enid nodded. “Yes.”

“No,” both daughters replied in unison.

“What?” Enid turned on them, clearly astonished. “What are you talking about? Of course you want to return.”

Sulwen placed a gentle hand on her mother’s arm. “It’s not like we’ll be living across the country. And we’ll be working together every day.”

“It’s time, Mum,” Lydia said softly. “We want to stay in the village.”

“But the Guardians—”

“Have reason to fear us.” Lydia turned lavender eyes on Sophie. “Because your Goddess has chosen to favor our leader.”

RHUDDIN HALL LACKED THE USUAL BUZZ OF VOICES SINCE many of the villagers kept to their homes. Dylan led his son through the kitchen, noting Sulwen’s shy smiles when Joshua inquired about dinner.

Enid greeted him with a nod, her expression humble. Well, perhaps not entirely humble, but maybe at peace with her situation. For the time being, at least.

“Sophie accepted my apology,” she volunteered before he asked. “She is upstairs with her mother.” A pause. “I was thinking of asking Francine if she would like to help in the kitchen, but didn’t want to offend. Do you have an opinion on the matter?”

Dylan’s eyebrows rose in surprise, anxious to hear Sophie’s version of events if it had prompted Enid to entertain a human working alongside her. “I think the gesture would be welcomed,” he said.

“Then I will ask.”

“Good.” He turned to the sound of feminine laughter, and found Sulwen, with her adoring gaze filled with mischief and promise, hand-spooning cookie dough into his son’s mouth. Lydia glared at her sister with open disgust.

Dylan cleared his throat. “Joshua, follow me, if you would. I have a gift for you.”

Ignoring his son’s guilty flush, Dylan motioned for him to continue down the hallway, and away from treats of more than one variety. Silently, he made a mental note to make time for a certain conversation. Every unmated female in Rhuddin Village may well vie for Joshua’s attention, simply for being his son. But once he shifted . . .

Dylan shook his head, unprepared for this aspect of parenthood.

The pungent scent of lemon oil and vinegar, Enid’s staple cleaners, lingered in the great hall. He paused under the carved entry, holding out his arm for Joshua to enter. Enthusiasm brightened his son’s features, and yet a feeling of impending disaster lingered.

He had more to lose, Dylan realized, with his wife and son back home and the approaching gathering hovering around his family like a poisonous fog of uncertainty.

Not to mention the Guardians. Their silence was at odds with their normal behavior. Shouldn’t they have contacted him by now? Made demands?

The meeting of the guards had gone well this morning. Their defense was as sound as their limited numbers could provide. Dylan had faith in their skill, trusted their honor without question. Unfortunately, their numbers, or lack of, were just cause for concern. The weak, the people who needed protection, outnumbered the strong. His territory was massive, blessedly abundant, and consisted of far more terrain than sixty-two men and women could cover at one time, regardless if they ran as a wolf. Nonetheless, they had planned well, plotted the most vulnerable areas that needed protection. And, Goddess willing, the gathering would prove productive.

But was it enough?

“I don’t need a gift,” Joshua said, interrupting his father’s troubled thoughts.

“You will receive one regardless.” Dylan walked over to the mantel on the far wall where his father’s sword was displayed; copper, iron and glass forged together in unrivaled craftsmanship. “This belonged to your grandfather, my father.” He lifted the weapon off its mount along with the iron chain that would secure it around his son’s waist.