healer who had trained him, taking Mairi along under the guise of wanting the other healer to examine her. But Ciara wasn’t fooled and she doubted his prince had been, either. The eagle didn’t want the non-shifting Chrechte out of his sight, and that was that.
Emily put aside the letter from her sister to read later and took Ciara’s hands in her own. “How are you holding up under all this?”
The Balmoral had not shown near the surprise at news of the Faolchú Chridhe as Ciara’s father had. Emily had been surprisingly accepting as well when Ciara had told them her story. Though her aunt had evinced concern for Ciara’s part in the recovery of the stone, she had agreed that the Faolchú Chridhe must be found.
Ciara shrugged. “I do not know. I hid my secrets for so long and now they are laid bare.”
Just as she was sure her mating the night before was no longer undisclosed. Not after the sulfuric glare the Balmoral laird had given Eirik upon their arrival at the keep.
Ciara had bathed in a stream in the forest, but she had been unable to wash away Eirik’s scent completely. And her wolf had refused to let her even try.
Not that it would have done any good. Eirik had given her an incendiary kiss before she’d gotten dressed, rubbing his body against hers in a way that was wholly pleasurable. Afterward, both were marked unmistakably with the other’s scent.
Stubborn dragon.
He was probably telling her adopted uncle that they had mated in the way of the Chrechte right this very minute. Short of tying him up and gagging him, Ciara was certain she could not have stopped the prince who considered her his from doing so. But the temptation to do exactly that had been strong not fifteen minutes past.
“It is difficult to hide anything among the Chrechte.” Emily squeezed Ciara’s hands and released them. “I’ve had to learn there isn’t room for normal boundaries, or embarrassment about things they can’t help knowing.”
“Like what you’ve been doing when Lachlan takes you for an unexpected stroll in the forest in the middle of the day?” Ciara asked, remembering a story Abigail had told her.
Emily blushed, but there was no scent of true embarrassment coming off of her. “Exactly like that.”
Ciara looked over to where Emily’s daughter embroidered cloth with her cousin and Talorc’s sister, Caitriona, under the larger than normal window of the solar. The femwolf appeared to be focused on the girls and their project, but Ciara knew her other aunt heard every word she and Emily shared. Moreover, she was no doubt listening with keen interest.
The young girls, on the other hand, would not develop stronger Chrechte senses until their first shift. And from what Niall had said, Lachlan and Emily’s daughter would never do so. He and his twin, Barr, had the ability to sense whether a babe in the womb was wolf, human or of the Éan, or so they claimed. And Niall had declared the nine-year-old Abigail Caitriona to be wholly human.
No one would know it from the way the children’s father doted on them equally. Laird Lachlan adored his human daughter as much as his Chrechte son and made sure everyone knew it.
“It does not take a wolf’s enhanced senses to know something has transpired between you and the Éan prince,” Emily said in a gently inquiring tone.
Ciara did not know how to reply. She was still coming to terms with her mating and was definitely not ready to talk about it. Caitriona gave her a look of commiseration, as if she knew exactly what Ciara was thinking and feeling.
Perhaps she did. Ciara hadn’t been actively masking her emotions since the men’s departure.
“How are the boys?” Emily asked, as if she’d never made the leading comment about Ciara and Eirik.
Ciara forced a grin. It wasn’t that hard. Thoughts of the twins always made her happy. “As full of trouble as their father.”
Tsking, Emily shook her head, her long, golden brown curls swaying against her back. “Did you know I came to the Highlands to protect my sister from the horror of being married to Talorc?”
Caitriona chuckled, proving she had indeed been listening. “If she doesn’t, she’s deaf. The warriors of my former clan still gossip like grandmothers about the day you likened him to a goat.”
“I eventually conceded he wasn’t that bad,” Emily offered in her own defense, but the laughter in her voice said the memory amused more than concerned her.
Ciara