Seeing a scowl surface on his handsome face, she pressed a finger to his temple and shrugged.
“You want to know what I’m thinking.”
She bobbed her head.
“I would spend every day of my life with you if it was possible, but we both know there will be times—”
She pressed a finger to his lips, then she made a circle in the air with her finger, pointed to him, then her, jabbed it straight down a few times, and then took his hand and slipped it down between their naked bodies to press against her stomach.
“You’re concerned with here and now and the babe.”
Nodding, she released a silent sigh.
“I promise you that I will be there when our babe is born.”
Dawn was well aware that when Cree gave his word, he kept it. He would be there with her for the birth of their child. The problem was how to keep him with her until then. It wasn’t that she couldn’t survive without him, or could she? He had become like taking a breath to her and when breath ceased so did life. Or perhaps it was that she had finally found love and couldn’t bear the thought of losing it. She didn’t know what had suddenly made her feel so connected to Cree that she didn’t want to be without him. She only knew that the feeling had overwhelmed her, and she intended to pay heed to it.
She reiterated how she felt about them not being apart, at least for now, by pointing to him, then to her, and then locking two fingers together and nodding adamantly.
Cree knew Dawn well. She had an independent nature, going off on her own to do as she pleased, even though there had been times he had warned her against it. So her insistence that they presently remain together did not make sense to him.
He was about to argue the point with her when she shivered again. Their discussion had had him completely forgetting the ordeal she had been through. The debate could wait until another time, though that time would be not far off. He had to go after his sister and bring her home safely, and Dawn would not be accompanying him. He would have Torr and a few warriors escort her home at daybreak, whether she liked it or not.
“You need to keep warm and rest,” he ordered, his hands already busy rubbing her back from her neck down to her bottom.
She nestled her face against his chest, and he felt her chest expand against him in a heavy sigh.
It wasn’t long before sleep claimed her as he expected it would after what she had been through. Her skin was no longer cold and that was due mainly to the heat of his body, which was why he hated to leave her side. He had no choice though, he needed to see about the message from the King and explain to Torr that he would be returning Dawn to the keep.
He could sneak out before she woke, leaving Torr to deal with her protests. That, however, was not his way. His word was law and he had made that clear to everyone when he had taken over the Village Dowell. Dawn, like everyone else, would obey his command; she had no other choice.
After slipping into his garments and donning his fur-lined cloak, he went in search of Torr. The snow had eased, though continued to fall. Two large fire pits had been constructed not far from the cottage and smaller ones burned just inside the two lean-tos. His warriors were keeping warm and filling their bellies in preparation of tomorrow’s full day ride.
He spotted Torr at one of the fire pits and went to join him.
Torr stood when he saw Cree approach. “My sister is well?”
“She is much improved and sleeping soundly.”
The worry creases on Torr’s face eased and he nodded. “This is good. I feared that I may have been too late.”
“I am indebted to you for saving her life,” Cree said, taking a seat on the long, thick tree branch someone had placed beside the fire.
Torr joined him, the log creaking under the solid weight of the two men. “You owe me nothing; she is my sister.”
Cree did not intend to argue with him. He was more concerned with the message from the King, though he would see Torr compensated when all this was done.
“The message from the King,” Cree reminded.
Torr pulled a rolled parchment from beneath his cloak and handed it to Cree. The missive was written in Latin, the King aware that Cree could read and speak the language, though the King did not know that he was adept at French as well, and various Gaelics. His mother had taught him and had warned him to keep his language skills to himself for then he would learn things others did not want him to hear. Her advice had been wise and had saved him on a few occasions.