A Kiss of Fire (A Kiss of Magic #2)(109)

When he was done he had all the soap rinsed from her body and lifted her out of the tub. When she put her arms around him she realized he still had his heavy coat on from out of doors. He hadn’t even stopped to take it off before caring for her.

He wrapped her up in a thick, dry towel and then carried her to their room. Here he laid her on their bed and tucked her beneath the covers.

“Cooler now?” he asked.

“Yes. Much better.”

“You took a big risk,” he scolded her.

“I couldn’t let them die. Whatever their loyalties, they didn’t deserve that. They didn’t deserve to be punished for the acts of a selfish man.”

“I agree.”

“And now they have no one.”

“Untrue. They have me. I will care for my brother’s women and children just as I would have had he died by any other means. His firstborn son is now my heir. They, the women and the children, are still my family. They will be treated as such.”

“That is very kind of you.”

“That is the Kiltian way. Had my brother been a decent man, he would have cared for my wife and child if something were to happen to me. But he wasn't a different man. I forbore him too long. I always thought it was only political maneuvering, all his nay saying and his negativity toward all of my choices and decisions, his way of making himself feel powerful or useful or…I don’t know. I had been tolerating it so long for the sake of my mother. I didn’t want her to see her sons at each other’s throats. Yet all the while…it was not an example of my brightest moment.”

“You didn’t want to believe your brother could be so treacherous. You couldn’t have lived in a world of constant suspicion. It wouldn’t have been wise or healthy.”

“It will take me a long while before I can trust in those around me again. Lindo will help me weed out the bad eggs…but it will take a lot of time and a lot of caution. Thank God for Lindo. Were it not for him…I would be dead by now no doubt.”

She shivered at the thought.

“Cold?” he asked, mistaking the reaction.

She shook her head. “But come and warm me all the same.” She pulled back a corner of the bedclothes and patted the bed.

He sighed. “As much as I would like to, there is much to be done. I have to make certain all are accounted for…and that all of Vich’s men have been routed out. Lindo is doing that as we speak no doubt, but I should help him. You rest. Get some sleep. I will be in when I can. When I find Mariah I will send her to you.” He hesitated and looked at her curiously. “How did you get away from my brother?”

She blushed and looked away, murmuring her reply. “I threw up.”

“You…what?”

She explained what had happened and slapped him lightly when he started laughing. But she smiled. “It was just the distraction I needed. You can thank your child for it. He has saved both of our lives.”

“You said ‘he’,” he pointed out, a smile in his dark eyes.

“A figure of speech. It could be this was all the cunning of a promising young woman.”

He laughed. “I wouldn’t put it past her. She would be just like her mother.” He bent and kissed her warmly. “Now sleep. I will be in shortly.”

She nodded and hunkered down into the covers. She suddenly realized just how exhausted she was. It had been a long, traumatic night. She was ready for sleep.

She closed her drowsy eyes and was asleep before he even made it out of the room.

Probably because he lingered to make certain she was completely at rest.

And safe.





Epilogue


Sin paced outside of his bedroom.

It was taking too long. Too damn long by far.

Since the night of the fire, the night when he had almost lost everything, he had not let Ariana out of his sight. In fact, they had been inside each other’s pockets so much that this was the first time he had spent any extended period of time away from her since then.

Kiltian tradition demanded that the father not see his child until he was cleaned and dressed in the formal wraps of an heir of the Kiltian in question. Whether it be a son or a daughter. In Kiltian tradition, if he had a daughter and no sons were born, then that daughter could give birth to a son who would then inherit the royal title…provided the raja lived that long. However, if he died before his daughter had issue, then it would go to his next heir…who at this point was Vich’s son, a mere five-year-old boy. So, until a male child was born, a daughter could conceivably be the mother of the next stage of his legacy. As such, it was only proper she be given all the same ceremony as a male child.

And ceremony said he was to wait outside of his wife’s birthing room, listening to her screams and grunts of pain, unable to do a damn thing about it. Being in the room wouldn’t make much difference, he told himself. He would just be able to watch her struggle instead of just hearing it. And he didn’t want any bad luck marking his son’s birth.

Or his daughter’s.

He would be happy either way, he told himself for the hundredth time. As long as both mother and child came through in perfect health, he would be happy. He feared for them both. His mother had lost two children in childbirth…and he had discovered that Ariana’s mother had died while giving birth to her sister Gretha. These were bad portents on both sides.