“And how do you deal with it?”
She chuckled. “I ignore you and do as I please.”
“That is all the time.”
“See how well I deal with you,” she said, her chuckle growing.
She brought a smile to his face. “You’re lucky you stole my heart.”
“You mean you’re lucky I gave you my heart.” He went to argue and she silenced him with a faint kiss. “And I’m lucky you gave me your heart.”
Wolf grinned, scooped her up in his arms, and walked to the bed. “And now I’m going to show us how lucky we both are.”
Her arms coiled around his neck and she kissed him again, though not faintly this time. “You can show me how lucky we are tonight, tomorrow morning, perhaps mid-day and, of course, at night—”
“And for all the days to come,” he said as he went down on the bed with her.
Epilogue
Eleven months later
“The pain is not so bad,” Raven said.
Oria and Purity laughed.
“Your labor just started,” Oria warned.
“And do you forget attending my daughter’s birth and Oria’s son’s birth?” Purity asked with a raised brow.
Raven cringed, though not from pain, from memory. “I tried to forget that.”
“But look at the beautiful bairns a short time of pain brought you,” Wren said, folding cloths on a nearby table.
“Wren is right,” Greta said. “The pain is forgotten once you hold your bairn in your arms.”
“The pain faded when I looked upon Duncan’s sweet face and he rested his small cheek next to mine,” Oria said.
“I felt the same when I held my tiny Margaret,” Purity said.
Raven laughed. “I took such joy in seeing Arran so fearful of holding his daughter. And tiny or not she cried louder than Duncan when born.”
Purity laughed as well. “He thanks the heavens every day that we named her after your mother since she seems as sweet and kind as her. He worried she might be as stubborn as you.”
Raven went to laugh but grabbed her stomach as a pain hit her just as her husband entered the room.
He hurried to her side. “You’re in pain.”
“Of course I’m in pain. I’m having your bairn,” she snapped. “What brings you here? I told you I will do this with the help of my friends.”
“I thought you’d want to know that Iver has returned and—”
Raven threw the blankets off her and struggled to get out of bed while her husband tried to keep her in the bed.
“Let me go. I’ve waited too long to hear word on this,” she said and grabbed her husband’s arm to gain leverage to hoist herself up and on her feet.
“You should remain in bed,” Purity urged.
“You all told me it’s early in my labor. I have time and I will speak to Iver,” Raven insisted and went to grab her shawl off the end of the bed.
Wren snatched it up and draped it around her shoulders. “Let her be done with it so she can return to bed and birth the bairn.”
Wolf shook his head, knowing it would be senseless to argue with his wife.
“What is she doing out of bed?” Parlan demanded when his daughter entered the common room.
Arran cradled his daughter in his arm and laughed. “I’m glad she’s your problem now, Wolf.”
Royden shook his head, his son smiling as he bounced him on his knee. “I agree with Arran.”
Raven looked at her husband, a sharp warning in her blue eyes. “Pick me up and carry me back to bed and you’ll be sorry.”
Arran laughed. “I never thought I’d feel sorry for you, Wolf.”
The door opened and Detta entered holding on to Faline’s arm, a light snow covering their cloaks.
Faline hadn’t been here long with the tribe, but she was only too glad to help Detta with whatever she needed. She was Sten’s wife and had arrived about six months ago with their son. She had been so grateful to find Sten alive and safe she had immediately sworn loyalty to Wolf. She was even more grateful when Sten had shown her the cottage he had been given and how thankful and relieved he was to have been forgiven and accepted into Wolf’s tribe… forever a loyal servant to the Beast.
Faline took Detta’s cloak she handed her and hung it on a peg before joining Ida to help her serve.
“Why are you out of bed?” Detta demanded, heading toward Royden.
“Because I want to be,” Raven shot back and cringed not meaning to be abrupt with Wolf’s grandmother. They had become friends, talking often, and finding shared interest—like the stubbornness that her husband insisted they both shared.
Detta smiled. “She’s a strong one and the baby will be as well. Now hand over my great-grandson, I haven’t held him in in ages?” She reached out to Royden who reluctantly handed his son over to her.”
“It’s a good thing Oria has such a forgiving heart. If it were me, I’d make you suffer a while longer for not telling her who you were when she lived it,” Royden said.