Moon Craving

by Lucy Monroe

  “Oh …” She looked back at Talorc, her eyes filming with happy tears. “You are too good to me.”

  Talorc leaned forward and kissed her softly. Right there in front of her sister and brother-in-law. And not on her cheek, but on her lips. “I would not withhold your family from you.”

  Dazed by the kiss, Abigail turned to what was no doubt a goofy smile on her sister. “Is he not wonderful?”

  “I am willing to concede he is not a goat,” Emily teased with an eye roll.

  Her husband threw his head back, obviously laughing.

  Talorc frowned at Emily in censure, but the amusement in his blue eyes belied any true anger. “It is about time you acknowledged the truth.”

  Abigail shook her head, so happy she could explode with it.

  Talorc brushed the shell of her ear with his forefinger, his indication he wanted to say something to her. With a brilliant smile, she gave him her full attention. “Yes?”

  “Wife, this near-decrepit warrior is the man your sister chose to marry over me.” He waved his hand at the other man. “Lachlan, Laird of the Balmoral.”

  “It is a true pleasure to meet you,” Abigail said, her hand to her throat to make sure she had enough volume to be heard. “I am selfishly grateful that my sister married you rather than the man your king intended for her. Talorc accepts me as I am.”

  Even if Lachlan did not understand how important and extraordinary that was, Abigail knew Emily would.

  “I too am happy with events as they turned out,” the big warrior replied, a twinkle in his dark brown eyes. “Who knew a simple kidnapping could have such far-reaching consequences?”

  “Emily kidnapped you?” Abigail asked in mock astonishment.

  Though her sister had never shared the full circumstances surrounding her marriage to the wrong laird, Abigail had never believed it was something so uncomplicated as Emily and Lachlan meeting and falling in love, with Talorc stepping conveniently aside as Emily had implied in her letters.

  Lachlan laughed again and he smiled at his wife. If Abigail did not know better, she would insist they were communicating somehow. Their body language implied it, but neither of their lips moved.

  Emily smiled softly at Abigail. “We have both found our happiest paths by God’s grace.” She winked. “And I did not kidnap my husband, though I did do a good job of getting myself invited along for Caitriona’s kidnapping.”

  “That is a story I would like to learn.”

  “I’ll tell you later,” Emily promised. She looked at her husband with mischief. “Every last detail.”

  Lachlan made a big production of groaning.

  Abigail shook her head with a laugh. “I can see he is a good match for your humor and wit.”

  “Yes.” Emily smiled in blissful contentment. Then she indicated the baby girl in her arm. “This is Abigail Caitriona, our daughter.”

  The precious little one with her mother’s violet eyes and father’s dark hair reached for Abigail.

  Still reeling from learning her sister had named her first child after her, Abigail’s hands shook as she extended them to take the baby. Emily relinquished her daughter with a smile.

  Abigail tucked the baby close. “She is beautiful.” She smiled down at the infant. “Hello, sweeting. I am your aunt.”

  The baby reached up to pat her aunt’s face.

  “We call her Gail,” Emily said.

  “Oh, that’s lovely.”

  “Her doting papa started it. He said Abigail Caitriona was too big a mouthful for such a small body.”

  Abigail choked on a watery laugh. “I should think so.”

  She looked at Talorc, letting her desire to have their own child shine in her eyes. He looked back with a tender heat that caught at her heart.

  Emily stared at both of them with nothing less than shock. “I would never have guessed Talorc had it in him.”

  “What?” Abigail asked.

  “Love.”

  Then Emily’s eyes widened and she shot a chagrined glance at her husband.

  She sighed and looked at Talorc. “I am sorry, that was unkind. It’s just that, while my sister’s letter said she was happy with your clan, I never imagined she could be this at ease. My own experience was so different, but there is no denying Abigail’s contentment. She is glowing with it.”

  “They all know my secret, and for the most part, no one cares.” Abigail ignored her sibling’s allusions to Talorc being in love with her. She knew it was not true, but if she said so to Emily, her big sister would no doubt get defensive on her behalf. Abigail wanted nothing to mar this visit with Emily, particularly not the troubles that nipped at the edges of that contentment she so clearly rejoiced in.

  “We are proud of her cleverness,” Earc said. He had been watching over her as she gardened and had held back from his usual peppering of curious questions quite manfully thus far.

  “Aye, the entire clan is proud,” Talorc affirmed, evidently willing to overlook Emily’s allusion to love as well.

  Emily’s lovely violet eyes grew misty again. “It is a miracle.”

  Abigail knew exactly what she meant: the clan’s acceptance and appreciation of her. “Yes.”

  She spent the rest of the day reacquainting her sister with the Sinclair holding and relearning her sister’s words, movements and heart as well. Emily told Abigail about her life among the Balmorals, in much richer detail than she had ever been able to go into in a letter she knew would be read by both her father and Sybil as well as Abigail.

  “I am so glad you found another woman to call sister. I missed you so much, but at least I still had Jolenta. I prayed for you to find someone to take my place,” Abigail admitted.

  “No one could take your place in my heart, but Cait is another sister of the soul. I know you will find the same when you come to Balmoral Island to visit.”

  “Isn’t she Talorc’s sister as well?”

  “Yes.”

  “Won’t she come here to visit?”

  Emily bit her lip, a clear marker that she was hesitant to speak freely.

  “Just say it,” Abigail demanded.

  “Talorc promised not to take Cait’s little son, but she worries that if she brings him to visit, Talorc will decide he belongs with the Sinclairs rather than the Balmorals.”

  “Why would he?”

  “Because the babe’s father was Sean, Talorc’s second-in-command before Barr.”

  “Niall and Barr’s older brother?” Abigail asked in shock. “I knew they had been married, but I did not realize she was pregnant when he died.”

  “Yes. And she was big with child when Drustan decided to keep her.”

  “This is part of the story you need to tell me, is it not?”

  “Yes, but it’s too long a story to get into before we have to return to the great hall to eat.”

  The evening meal was a full celebration that ended with both lairds insisting on carrying their wives up the stairs to the sleeping quarters. Abigail couldn’t help noticing and being amused by the fact that Lachlan seemed every bit as concerned about Emily’s safety on the narrow stairway as Talorc was about her.

  “It’s a tactical advantage, I’ll give you that,” Lachlan said to Talorc. “But it is not practical for a laird with a family to consider.”

  Talorc looked at the stairs, then at the sleeping baby in Emily’s arms and finally at Abigail, where his gaze lingered for long seconds. “I see your meaning,” he said with a look she could not decipher.

  She had no trouble deciphering the angry frown Guaire sent toward the other end of the table. No doubt Osgard had said something rude again. Ignoring him was getting more and more difficult, but she wasn’t about to whine to Talorc like a spoiled child. She had enjoyed more acceptance from her clan than she ever would have hoped for.

  One man’s intransigent insistence on unpleasantness was not significant. Not even if he found his twin in the tower’s housekeeper’s attitude.

  Niall at leas
t was never mean with his words, nor did he ever attempt to undermine her with others. Whatever was going on with her estranged friend, she had hope of one day renewing their camaraderie.

  The next week was one of the most convivial of Abigail’s life. She and her sister worked in her herb garden together while Gail napped in the shade. When the baby was awake, they played with her and spent more time visiting amidst Abigail’s clan.

  Emily exclaimed over and over again about the friendly attitude the clan treated her with now that she was wed to someone besides their laird. “I can only think my absolute lack of desire to marry their laird showed in my every action.”

  “He learned from the way he treated you and established my role with the clanspeople immediately.”

  Emily grinned, and like most days, Abigail found herself telling her sister all about her life since Emily had left her father’s keep, including Abigail’s experiences as a newly married laird’s lady. They had not yet got around to Emily telling Abigail the full story of how she had ended up married to Lachlan.

  “Remember, you had letters to read from me. I got no correspondence from you.” Sir Reuben had been unwilling to send a messenger all the way north to the Highlands with nothing more important than a letter. Unlike Lachlan of the Balmoral, the English baron did not have allied clans willing to pass the letters along. “I have hundreds of questions still unanswered.”

  Abigail did her best to answer them.

  They were visiting in the bedchamber Emily and Lachlan were sharing while staying with the Sinclairs. The baby was napping and Abigail’s escort waited in the hall, outside the door.

  “Your husband is very conscientious of your safety,” Emily observed.

  “Osgard once told me it was because neither Talorc nor the clan trusted me to be alone. Because I am English.”

  “You did not believe him, did you?” Emily looked ready to do bodily harm to an old warrior. “It is obvious your clan loves and trusts you.”

  Abigail nodded in agreement. “Even after finding out about my secret.”

  “It is so different from Father’s keep, is it not?”

  “Oh, yes. I feel so free here.”

  “And valued.”

  Filled with pleasure at the thought, Abigail smiled. “Yes. For so long the only two people who believed I had value were you and the abbess. Now, I have a whole clan.”

  It would probably amaze her until the day she died, but she would thank God for it every day, too.

  “It’s wonderful.” Emily started crying again. She’d been doing that a lot.

  Abigail laid her hand over Emily’s stomach. “Sister, are you sure there is not something you wish to tell me? I do not remember you being so easily led to tears, happy or otherwise.”

  “It’s not certain. I am only a little over a week past when my monthly should have begun. But I can feel a change in my body, odd food cravings and nausea at the idea of meals I usually love. I have not told Lachlan yet, though I imagine he must know.” Emily laughed, her delight at the prospect evident. “I did not want him to use it as an excuse to put off our visit.”

  “When will the baby come?”

  “If my calculations are correct, early spring.”

  “That is such wonderful news.”

  “Thank you. I did not expect to have two babies so close together. Gail is only eight months old.”

  “They will be playmates.”

  “I imagine they will, but I sense this one is a boy.”

  “I’m sure that will not stop them.”

  “Oh, Abigail, I am so happy to have you back in my life,” Emily said with a hiccupping sigh.

  “Me, too.” Abigail gave her sister a spontaneous hug. “I wish you could stay longer.”

  Emily nodded. “But you will come to Balmoral Island for a visit soon, Talorc has promised.”

  “Yes, and he keeps his promises.”

  “It is good to be able to trust your husband in such things.”

  “It is.” Abigail let her gaze slide to the sleeping baby and then back to her sister. “Um … there is something I have been wishing to discuss with you.” The one worry she desperately needed her sister’s wisdom in dealing with.

  They had already briefly discussed the Una problem and Emily had made no bones about the fact that she thought the other woman should be sent away. Abigail should have been prepared for the protective stance and realized Emily would be no more unbiased than she was, just in a different direction.

  She’d brought it up to Guaire and he had suggested she discuss it with her husband, since as laird he had a right to know Una was once again flaunting his directive to accept Abigail as lady of the Sinclairs.

  But as frustrating as Una was, she was not Abigail’s most pressing concern.

  Emily cocked her head at Abigail’s prolonged silence. “What is it?”

  “You remember what the English priests taught about deafness?”

  “The demon thing?” Emily frowned. “Pshaw. We know that isn’t true. You haven’t been worrying about that old tale, have you?”

  “I’ve been hearing voices in my head,” she bluntly admitted.

  “Voices? In your head?” Emily asked, not sounding overly concerned. In fact, if it was not stretching the bounds of belief too far, Abigail would have said her sister sounded almost excited. “What do you mean?”

  “When Talorc and I are making love, I imagine I hear his voice and once I heard the howling of a wolf. Sometimes I think it is just my imagination, because I so desperately want to hear his voice when I can hear nothing else. Only it is so real and, Emily … I don’t remember what other things sound like. Not the chirping of a bird, the gurgling of a brook, the sound of wind in the trees or even your voice. Yet, I hear his so clearly. And from what I can remember, it is unlike any voice I heard before losing sound.”

  Emily’s brilliant smile made no sense. “You need to tell Talorc, though I’m surprised he has not already noted the situation.”

  “I did tell him.”

  Emily’s brows furrowed. “What did he say?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?” She shook her head. “That idiot.”

  “My husband is not an idiot. He did not judge me. He did confirm he was not worried about it.” Which at first had fed her fears Talorc planned to banish her, but then she had seen his acceptance for the gift it was.

  “Of course he isn’t worried. He knows exactly why you are hearing his voice and that of his wolf in your head.” Emily’s pansy eyes snapped with annoyance.

  “His wolf?” Abigail was more than a little confused. “You mean the big gray wolf that is friend to the clan?”

  “That gray wolf is more than friend.” Emily jumped up and began pacing the floor.

  “You’ve seen it, too?”

  “Only from a distance.”

  “I’ve seen it up close twice.” She told her sister about the walk in the woods with Niall and then about her near miss with the boar. “The wolf saved my life.”

  “Of course he did. He is your husband, your mate.”

  “Emily … I am not married to a wolf.” She went right from worrying about her own sanity to that of her sister’s.

  Chapter 18

  Perhaps Emily’s pregnancy was causing her mind to play tricks on her.

  But Emily did not look like she was fantasizing when she said, “Yes, you are.”

  “Emily—”

  “They are werewolves, Abigail.”

  “Don’t tease me. I know I believed Anna’s stories of werewolves in the Highlands as if they were gospel and they scared me, but I am no longer a child. And I’m really worried about these voices.”

  “I’m not teasing you.” Emily’s violet eyes mirrored her frustration. “Have I ever lied to you?”

  “No.”

  “I am not lying now. There is a special race who live among the clans here in the Highlands.”

  “The Chrechte.”

  “So, Talorc told
you about them.”

  “Yes.”

  “He didn’t tell you everything if you do not know they are werewolves.”

  “Werewolves are only a story,” Abigail reminded her sister stubbornly.

  “No, they aren’t. They are real and Talorc is one. I think it is time I told you the story of how I came to be wed to Lachlan.”

  Abigail’s astonishment grew as her sister told her the story. So did the growing realization that Emily believed every word she said, and if she believed them, they were probably true, which meant so were Anna’s stories. Werewolves were real.

  If anyone else had claimed such, Abigail would have demanded proof, but this was her sister. The one person in the world who had always loved her and had never lied to her. In addition to her absolute trust in her sister, Abigail couldn’t help noticing how details of her sister’s story made sense of things that had confused her since meeting Talorc.

  “When a werewolf finds his or her true mate, some of them are able to talk to each other in their heads,” Emily said. “Lachlan and I can do it.”

  “Talorc called me his true mate, I thought he meant I was his friend.”

  Emily didn’t laugh, but Abigail would have. What a dolt she had been. Misunderstanding words that explained so much.

  “Wolves mate for life and his wolf has mated with you,” Emily said with complete assurance. “While it is rare for a Chrechte to mate with a human, it can happen. I’m evidence of that. Our child’s presence and my current condition is further evidence that mine and Lachlan’s is a true mating. I do not understand how I was so blessed, nor how you should share the blessing with Talorc, but it is possible.”

  Abigail remembered the possessive look of the wolf, both in the forest and then after he had killed for her, and felt faint. “This cannot be true.” Though her doubts were more voice than substance now.

  “It is. I would never lie to you or tease you about something so important. You know that.”

  Abigail remembered the way the voice had yelled at her when the wild boar had been coming. “He can talk to me like that all the time or only in moments of great emotion?”

  “Lachlan talks to me that way all the time, as I do him. Cait and her husband are true-mated with the gift as well. As far as I know, it is possible to communicate that way all the time for the sacred mates blessed by mindspeak.”