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Her small hands suddenly fussed in his hair. She played gently
with it, and Cian liked it. Her little hands felt like the flutter of pixie wings against his skin.
“What is your name?” Cian looked down on her in wonder. She
was so beautiful. She was a lovely siren, calling him away from his
duty. He had something to do, but he’d rather stay here with her.
She smiled up, and all the light and warmth in the world was in
her face. “I’m Meggie.”
Cian felt such a rush of emotion at the sound of the name. He
pulled her into his arms and hugged her with all the strength he had
left. After a moment of startled surprise, she wound her arms around
his chest and held him close. He didn’t know why he felt this way, but
he knew she had saved him from something. A word to describe her
leapt to his addled brain. It was the only clear thing in his head.
“Wife,” he whispered in her ear. It was a prayer.
* * * *
Beck settled back in his chair after suppertime. The
fire blazed in
front of him, filling the cottage with warmth. Meg rocked in the chair
beside him.
“What’s wrong with him?” Meg asked. Beck looked at her pretty
face and felt a contentment he hadn’t felt in a long time.
They were both pleasantly full from the meal Beck had produced.
It had been simple, but Meg had eaten the chicken, potatoes, and
carrots ravenously. Beck was pleased that Meg had gotten Cian to eat.
Cian had followed her around like a lost child. By the time Beck had
come back to the brugh, she had gotten Cian inside the cottage and managed to sit him in front of the fire with a blanket around his body.
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While Beck had prepared dinner, Meg had patiently worked a
comb through Cian’s long, dark hair. It had been a tangled mess, but
