Thaddeus
Waking to my naked wife’s swollen belly beneath my palm never failed to make me smile. And her scent—changed. Wulfric knew it instantly. She had taken to her first heat.
It was deeper now. More floral, threaded with earth. I brushed my thumb gently over the small swell of her belly, where our pup rested—still tiny, easily hidden beneath her dresses.
The day would come when we would have to tell her family. Any progress made with Ranald over the last three months would likely vanish in an instant.
Perhaps he would soften when he became Uncle Ranald.
He did his best to bait me at every opportunity, despite Euphemia’s sharp rebukes whenever she caught the murderous glint lingering too long in his eyes. At least I knew now that I wasn’t the only one who saw it.
And now he lived with us.
I had no doubt he would try to poison my tea the moment he learned about the baby.
I leaned in and breathed Euphemia in. Her scent hit me like an opiate—slow, grounding, irresistible. My body eased, tension melting away.
I sighed.
For her sake, I wouldn’t rip his insolent backside apart.
“Why are ye sighing so heavily this morning?” Euphemia murmured, her voice thick with sleep.
I glanced down to find her eyes still closed.
“How easy is it to cultivate wolfsbane here?”
One eye opened. Then the other. Her hand slid over my chest, settling directly atop our bond.
“He willnae poison ye,” she said softly. “More likely he’ll try tae stab ye with one o’ the weapons displayed in the library.”
I frowned. Why hadn’t I thought of that? There was an old Viking axe and a heavy sword etched with Celtic markings. He could easily—
Euphemia chuckled.
“Ye ken he disnae hate ye. He enjoys teasing ye,” she said, curling her fingers around the back of my neck. “Why dae ye always fall fur it?”
She pressed her breasts against me, arching her back until my hand slid instinctively to cup her arse.
“I think you should make it up to me,” I murmured, skimming my fingertips lower until I reached her sweet cunt.
“Is that right?” she purred, slipping her hand between us to grip my morning cock.
I leaned in to kiss her—
A sharp knock rattled the door.
She yanked her hand away.
“Euphemia, Morag wants tae know—”
Ranald.
“Leave ’em be, boy,” Callum’s voice boomed from somewhere down the hall.
They bickered for a moment before silence fell again.
Just as I was preparing to resume my arduous intentions, Euphemia sat up.
“I’d better see what Morag needed,” she said, throwing the covers aside.
“And what, pray tell, am I supposed to do with this?” I asked, gesturing pointedly at the bulge beneath the covers.
“I’ll be quick,” she said, slipping into the nightdress I’d tossed on the floor the night before.
“So will I,” I groaned as she shrugged into her robe.
“Yer knot willnae be,” she replied, strolling over to pat my cheek.
I caught her wrist, gently twisting her arm back toward me, and pressed a kiss to her palm.
“Come back quickly,” I said solemnly. “Or I may perish.”
She snorted softly as I flopped dramatically onto my back.
“Yer family’s comin’ tomorrow,” she said, shaking her head while pulling on her slippers. “And I want everything tae be perfect.”
It was insult added to injury when I heard Ranald greet his sister far too brightly.
She’ll be back, Wulfric consoled me.
I stared at the ceiling for a moment longer.
It would be best to see her fed—and then dragged back to our bed. With a plan firmly in place, I swung my legs out and rose.
Ranald would not get the better of me.
Not today.
? ? ?
I held the plum-filled pastry to her lips. Her eyes flashed a brief, burnt orange as she opened her mouth—Madadh, our vicious yet playful wolf, close to the surface. Her wolf form was far smaller than ours, but quick and alert. Once Wulfric ran with her, he was complete.
“She can eat by herself,” Ranald snorted.
“You should take note,” I said, carefully schooling my temper. “This is how one cares for his wife.”
I grunted in satisfaction when she tore off a generous bite. She knew I loved it when she abandoned any pretence of ladylike restraint—a sharp contrast to the women of the ton.
“Ah’ll never turn into a sap over any lassie,” Ranald scoffed.
Euphemia glanced at me, and we shared a knowing look. His bravado would not last—not if there was a dormant wolf in him, as there was in his sister.
“Aye, ye will,” Euphemia said lightly, lifting her teacup. “An’ I’ll be there tae help ye through it.”
Wulfric nudged me, eager for me to feed her again.
The cook had been experimenting endlessly ahead of my parents’ arrival.
“As long as I dinnae end up like him,” Ranald muttered, biting into an apple with unnecessary force.
Euphemia slipped her hand onto my thigh, squeezing once before letting her fingers drift higher, brushing deliberately over my crotch. Her eyes held a quiet promise—one she’d made very clear this morning. I lifted the sticky pastry back to her lips.
She was all mine.
Ours, Wulfric corrected, satisfied.
Ranald rose abruptly and left the dining room.