Page 33 of Highland Lords of War & Thunder: The Prequel

“I have one. I'm sitting in it.”

Fay's expression softened. “You know you're welcome here for as long as you wish. But this is our home, Creagan. You need one of your own.”

He took a drink rather than answer.

“And a wife,” Fay continued.

Creagan nearly choked on his ale.

Tate laughed again. “You walked into that one.”

“One woman?” Creagan stared at Fay as if she'd suggested he take holy vows. “For the rest of my life?”

Fay nodded firmly. “Aye, one woman.”

Creagan groaned. “That sounds exhausting.”

“You would probably exhaust her,” Fay said and not playfully.

“Then I would need a particularly strong woman.”

“You need a woman who won't put up with your shenanigans,” Fay corrected.

Creagan grinned. “Where would be the pleasure in that?”

“And bairns,” Fay added. “You need bairns of your own to love.”

His grin remained but something inside him stilled.

He recalled Peter as a newborn in his arms, so small Creagan had been afraid his large hands might somehow hurt him. And Jennie, only hours old, sleeping against his chest while Fay laughed at how terrified he looked holding her.

He'd never told any of them what those moments had done to him.

Creagan glanced around the room. At Tate and Fay sitting together. At the small wooden horse Peter had left near the hearth. At Jennie's ribbon abandoned on the table.

He wanted this. Not their home or their life. His own family.

He wanted a woman he loved and who loved him in return. He wanted bairns who came running when he returned home. He wanted a place where he belonged and where no one ever wondered how long he intended to stay since he would finally be… home.

“Creagan?”

He looked at Fay.

Her eyes had narrowed. “You're actually thinking about it.”

His familiar grin returned. “I'm thinking you should pour me another ale before you have me wed with six bairns by morning.”

Tate laughed, but Fay shook her head as she reached for the pitcher.

“You make a jest of everything.”

“Life is far more enjoyable that way.”

“Not everything is a jest,” Tate said.

Something in his tone had Creagan looking at him.

Tate lowered his tankard. “Have you heard what's being said about the queen?”