Morgan found himself holding an exquisitely drawn pencil sketch of a fire-breathing dragon. “This is fantastic work, young man. Absolutely beautiful! What’s your name?”
“My name’s Henry.” The boy seemed to grow an extra inch under Morgan’s praise, and he thought sadly of how easy it would have been for his stepfather to encourage him instead of mock him. If only his real father had lived...
“Well, Henry, if Mrs. Bohannan says it’s all right, would you like to be my assistant?”
The boy’s eyes widened with shock. “You couldn’t mean that, sir?”
“Of course, I do,” Morgan assured him. “Why don’t you go ask her?” He smiled at the rest of the boys, who looked a little crestfallen. “Why don’t the rest of you help me move the furniture?”
Glad to have been given a chore as well, the rest of them all set to work moving the furniture into the center of the room.
With a bemused smile, Morgan opened a can of ocean-blue paint.
He’d just finished prepping the largest wall when he looked up to see Fiona standing in the doorway, staring at him with a look he couldn’t quite decipher. When he met her gaze, she ducked her head a bit bashfully. The memory of the kiss they’d shared overwhelmed him, and he could tell she was thinking about it, too.
Blushing, she cleared her throat. “Henry said you asked him to help you. I just thought I’d check in and make sure they weren’t bothering you.” She lifted a hand and gestured to the boys, who were still industriously organizing everything into the center of the room. “But you seem to have them well in hand.”
He nodded, realizing that he’d actually been able to do several things right where this woman was concerned today. She was looking at him with delight and cautious optimism. Perhaps even the beginnings of trust? Whatever it was, he’d take it. Because he very much wanted to see that look in her eyes again.
“You do so well with the children,” she said. “We are all so grateful to have you here.”
“There’s nowhere I’d rather be,” he told her, and he found that he meant it.
* * *
LATER THAT NIGHT, MORGANstood in the shadows of the hall, watching with an aching heart as Fiona mothered his children. He’d been caught up in his work and hadn’t realized that it was so late.
Fiona had obviously put the rest of the children to bed, and now, she sat in the sitting room with Samuel, Hannah, and Felicity, reading them a book. Felicity was in her arms, the child’s blonde head resting against her cheek, her thumb in her mouth. Samuel and Hannah sat by Fiona’s feet, staring up at her as though she’d hung the moon.
He’d thought they were coping well lately with Anne’s death, but seeing them with Fiona made him realize how much they’d been needing a maternal feminine touch.
Samuel, especially, stared at Fiona with such longing...
Little Felicity had never known her mother’s love, and Hannah had only been two when Anne died and hardly remembered her. But Samuel remembered Anne and missed her desperately. Morgan could never give his children back what they’d lost when Anne had been taken from them, but, for the first time, it suddenly occurred to them that they didn’t have to be motherless forever. He could marry again.
The mere thought seemed disloyal to Anne’s memory, but now that he’d had it, he couldn’t unthink it. In fact, he knew many people expected it of him. The children needed someone besides Meggie in their lives. They’d blossomed in the last few weeks they’d been coming to Brookhaven, and he had Fiona to thank for it.
His gaze settled on Fiona’s fiery hair, and a surge of attraction and affection surged through him, stunning him with its ferocity. What was it about this woman that entranced him so deeply? And more to the point, what, if anything, should he do about it?
Feeling suddenly strangely voyeuristic, he cleared his throat and entered the room. They all looked up at him, his children’s faces lighting up. As Hannah and Samuel ran over to him and wrapped their arms about his legs, Fiona closed the book and set it aside. He could see the exhaustion in her lovely green eyes, and guilt overwhelmed him.
“I’m so sorry,” he told her. “I lost track of time.”
She smiled wanly. “It’s quite all right. I didn’t mind spending some time with them. They are very sweet children.” She pressed a gentle kiss to Felicity’s forehead, then stood and handed her toward Morgan.
Morgan took his daughter, grinning as she squealed happily. “Thank you, but I feel terrible for keeping you awake. Next time, come and get me.”
She shrugged. “I probably would have just stayed up half the night going over the books anyway. It was a welcome break for me.”
Their gazes caught and held for a long moment, but then she blushed prettily and looked away. Whatever this thing between them was, he was fairly certain she felt it, too. He wanted to kiss her so much in that moment that it physically hurt not to, but the children provided a buffer that he obviously desperately needed.
“Well,” she murmured, breaking eye contact and stepping away from him. “I suppose I should let you go. Will I be seeing you in the morning?”
He nodded, his heart lighter than it had been in ages. “Of course. Sleep well.”
She blushed even deeper, then leaned down and hugged Hannah and Samuel. “Good night, my darlings. Thank you for keeping me company.”
“Good night, Mrs. Bohannan,” Hannah chirped.
