Chapter 15
Chapter
Fifteen
Barely controlling the urge to throw back his head and proudly roar his happiness until the pillars of the Realm quaked, Magnus squared his shoulders and stood there in a wide, protective stance, guarding his lady love, the mother of his child, until both Weavers left the room and closed the door behind them.
Then he turned and knelt at the bedside, taking Lyla’s hand in his.
“A child,” he whispered, the joy within him making it nearly impossible to speak.
She shocked him by awkwardly jerking her head back and forth. “Mairwen has to be wrong. She shouldn’t have said such a thing. It was only last night—and only the one time!”
Was that fear in her eyes? Dread? Worst of all, was it…refusal? Still holding her hand, he slowly rose and sat on the edge of the bed. “As soon as a flame of life sparks, a Weaver can see its light.”
Lyla pulled her hand away, drew up her knees and hugged them as she rested her cheek atop them and slowly rocked. “It was only the one time,” she repeated, almost cringing as she stared off into space.
“The first time, the initial bonding—it’s the most powerful time when souls are knit back together, and the one most likely to create life.”
Closing her eyes, she pressed her forehead to her knees, hiding her face. “You could have mentioned that…before.”
He struggled to understand her lack of joy, her unwillingness to embrace this precious happiness. “Ye dinna want our child?”
She lifted her head, and much to his relief, seemed upset that he would say such a thing.
“It’s not that. It’s…” Words appeared to elude her.
“It’s…” She threw up her hands. “I had hoped for a little more time to get used to all the strangeness that is already my life before any more strangeness joined it.” She waved him away, then curled away from him, huddling in a ball under the covers.
“It’s so dangerous here,” she said, her voice muffled by the bedclothes.
“I shall keep ye safe, the both of ye. Ye know that.”
“But it’s my music that’s needed to win this war.”
When he rested his hand on her shoulder, she twitched it away and buried her head under more of the covers.
“Go away. For a little while. Please? I’ve got to figure out what I’m going to do.”
“Ye are going to remain here in the fortress where it is safe.”
She threw back the covers and glared at him. “My music is needed to win this war. My songs. I have to make them hear my songs.” Sitting up, she jabbed a finger at him. “You were already making me crazy with your over-protectiveness, and now, you’re going to be even worse.”
Albionna entered the room with a tray that held a fat little ceramic pot that promised to be more of the coffee Lyla loved.
Hopefully, that would calm her, make her feel better.
“Yer coffee, Divine One.” She halted halfway across the room and frowned.
“What is wrong? Are ye unwell? Is something paining ye? What shall I fetch to make it better?”
“The Weavers informed the Divine One that she already carries our child.” Magnus couldn’t help it. He had to tell someone.
“Blessed be!” The maid practically danced the rest of the way across the room and set down the tray.
“The Realm will rejoice at the wonderful news. Many congratulations to ye both.” She poured a cup of the noxious black liquid and carried it to her.
“Yer coffee, Divine One, and shall I fetch more food? Ye ate little to break yer fast. Would a few biscuits or bannocks be to yer liking? A mother growing a child must eat.”
Sitting upright once more, Lyla closed her eyes and dropped her chin to her chest. “Nothing, Albionna. I need nothing, thank you. The coffee is plenty.”
His lady needed time. And solitude. Magnus felt it more surely than he felt the floor beneath his feet. “Leave us, Albionna. Our lady will ring for ye if she requires anything else.”
As soon as the door clicked shut behind the maid, Magnus turned back to Lyla. “All will be well, my love. I swear it.”
“You need to stop saying that, because you have no way of knowing what the future will bring.” Pure fear shone on her face. “I know nothing about being a mother—a good mother.”
“Aye, but it appears ye know a great deal about being a bad one,” he gently reminded her.
Then it came to him that this had far more to do with her past than it did with any of the evils the prophecy had foretold she would battle.
“Do exactly the opposite of what yer mother did to ye. All ye must truly know is how to love. How to care. I saw undeniable proof of that when ye saved Frostborn and Bastion’s hatchlings, and yet even more proof when ye saw yer Jake that ye were so worried about.
” Easing is hand up under hers, he gently laced their fingers together and tugged her into his arms. “All will be well. I will make it so.”
“You can’t make music,” she said, her voice muffled against his chest.
“I can roar.”
She shifted in his arms, releasing a heavy sigh. His lady did not appreciate his humor.
“Shall I have the music makers brought in? The new ones the Weavers transported from yer time?” Taking hold of her by the shoulders, he eased her back and smiled down at her. “’Tis a rare thing indeed for the Veil to allow so many items from another reality. It doesn’t usually permit that.”
“I wish it would let us bring in a way to amplify and transmit the sound.” With a suddenness that surprised him, she scooted off the bed, went to the windows, and stared out at the land before her.
“It seems so close, but when it comes to the volume of sound, it’s so far away.
Makes me wish I’d studied physics or something that would be more helpful to our cause. ”
Magnus barely caught the gist, but he thought he understood.
Joining her at the window, he hugged her back against him.
Everything in him needed to touch her, feel her closeness as they contemplated their future.
The barrier around Thornpitch had returned to its dark, lightning-filled malevolence.
Whatever the music had done to it earlier, it had recovered.
“The song nay had a lasting effect on the wall. Look at it. It has healed.” He turned her to face him.
“Another reason ye must go nowhere near it.”
Unsmiling, she stared up at him. “I need a promise from you.”
Whatever she was about to ask, he knew he wouldn’t like it. He felt it in his bones. “What might that promise be, my love?”
“You’re going to stop being so overprotective. This battle is as much mine as it is yours, and you know it.”
He shook his head. “I can never promise that. Especially not now.”
“You wanted me here because of the prophecy. You wanted me here to save dragonkind.”
“Aye, but now I want ye here for me.” He kissed her with the ferocity of a charge into battle.
Barely lifting his mouth from hers, he whispered, “I am a selfish man, my love. When I claim something as mine, I allow no other to take it, and make no mistake, ye are mine. Eternally mine. Mine to protect. Mine to cherish. Mine to have and to hold forevermore.”
“What happened to compromise?”
He couldn’t help but huff in amusement. “I find compromise difficult, at best, and impossible almost always.” By all the powers of the mighty Draig, he ached for her, wanted her with a raging fury, but the morning had weighed heavily on her.
It showed in her eyes, in the set of her shoulders, in the barest bit of breathlessness as she stared up at him like a hungry wee beastie.
He wanted her, but his selfishness shamed him.
He didn’t wish to cause her harm or any more marked weariness.
“I’m breathless because I want you so badly,” she said as if reading his mind. “Remember what Mairwen said? I’m getting stronger”—she shuddered—“or something to that effect.”
That decided it. He caught hold of the neckline of her shift, rent it in two, and tossed the halves away.
“Much better.” While nibbling his way across her bare shoulder, he picked her up and carried her to the bathing solar and kicked the door open.
“I’m thinking time together in the healing waters is the balm we both need. ”
She wrapped her legs around his waist and held tightly to his shoulders. “For once, we are in agreement.” Then she plucked at the seams of his tunic. “Except you’re still dressed, and you ruined that lovely linen nightgown that Albionna made.”
“Albionna can make another,” he said as he thought his clothing away.
Stepping down into the pool of warm, soothing water, he settled her astraddle his lap after seating himself on the ledge.
A low rumbling groan escaped him as she wiggled down in place, welcoming him back inside the hot, tight slipperiness of her bliss.
“We shall take our time this time, my love.”
“Did you lock the door?”
Cupping the pleasing roundness of her breast in one hand and the cheek of her perfect arse in the other, he smiled. “No one will interrupt us unless they wish to die.”
She paused in her slow, purposeful rocking and arched a brow. “You’re joking—right?”
“I never jest when it comes to pleasuring the one of my heart.”
Face down on the most comfortable massage table she’d ever experienced, Lyla closed her eyes as Albionna rubbed copious amounts of delicately perfumed oils into her skin.
The light floral notes and refreshing scents of crisp, clean green grasses soothed her, relaxing her even more.
“Does Magnus have someone to take care of him as nicely as you take care of me?”
“Stoorin sees to the chief, Divine One. He prepares him for battle as we speak.”