Page 20 of The Defiant Curse

Well, he’d called that.

Michael nodded.

“And horses. We’ll take a ride tomorrow across the lands, and you’ll feel light and better. Oh, and don’t forget about the barn cats. Apparently, you can’t have a barn without cats—something about the grain and feed not getting infested with mice.”

She smiled a little.

Oh, he knew his way to Elizabeth’s heart.

The woman was a lover of all things fur covered. She’d have a barn with animals if she could manage the time. All she could handle were some dogs, but they all knew the truth.

Someone loved pets.

Now, he had her full attention.

“There are horses too?” she asked.

He nodded.

Then, he began naming them off, so she would forget about her worries for a little while, and let Ravensmire soothe her broken soul.

“There’s MacBeth, Hamlet, Romeo, and Juliet. See the theme?” he asked. “Apparently, reading is not only fundamental, but based on Shakespearean stuff. Well above my brain, but I didn’t name them. The husband did. He’s the reader.”

She laughed.

“There’s a correlation? I didn’t catch it,” she teased. “And I’m the one who tells the kids that reading is fundamental, so…”

He kissed her on the top of the head.

“How about we get you inside, so you can get out of the chill? There are fireplaces, and we have dinner cooking.”

She stopped him, and with good reason.

“Before we go in, can I meet your husband?” she asked. “My other son?”

Yeah, Michael smiled.

She absolutely could, and he wanted that more than anything in this world. This was about introducing the two most important people in his life.

Together at last.

“Mom, I thought you’d never ask,” he said, holding out his hand. “He went back inside, and he’s waiting. Don’t tell him I told you, but he’s nervous that you won’t like him.”

She squeezed his hand in reassurance.

There was no need to have that worry.

None.

At.

All.

“I love him because you love him. You gave me another son, and that’s the best gift a mother could get. The only two ways I won’t like him is if he hurts you, or he’s a serial killer. PLEASE tell me he’s not a serial killer. I need a break,” she admitted. “If I came here to find one living here, I’m taking the goddamn bridge.”

He laughed.

“Oh, he’s definitely not going to hurt me, or kill anyone. I think you’ll get along with him. He’s got the same sense of humor as you do. He just wears a kilt, not cowboy boots.”