May 1617
Spring had finally come to Dunfayre, on the border of Coimbra and Francia, and to Darroch Keep, where the laird of the keep and his lady were enjoying an evening in the garden with their children, twins Jacques and Heather, who were toddling around, one after the other.
"Non, non!" their mother laughed as she scolded them gently. "If you grab at the flowers that way, mes cheris, you will be certain to be stung by a bee!" she warned, snatching two chubby hands away from the flowers that had finally come into bloom after a long winter.
Bryce chuckled behind her. "Och, a sting or tw'a will nae harm them, lass," he pointed out in amusement, ambling along behind his lady and their twin terrors at his own pace. It wasn't that he didn't care what happened to his children - more that he knew the harsher realities. A bee sting would not kill them, after all.
Justine frowned a little, knowing she couldn't chase after her children every moment of every day for the rest of their lives. Someday, they would have grow up and likely learn some painful lessons, but that day did not have to be today. "What kind of mother would I be if I let my children get hurt needlessly?" she countered, kissing each chubby hand before letting them go to toddle after each other and rising to face her handsome husband.
"No less a loving one, love," he promised her, moving to slide an arm about her waist. "We cannae coddle them. I'm not proposing to send them off to war or marriage, so stop frowning so. But wee accidents will happen - better they happen with us there than without."
"I suppose you are right," Justine admitted with a sigh and a faint frown. She batted at a stray strand of blond hair that kept falling in her face as her husband slid an arm about her waist. "You cannot blame me for wanting to always keep them safe, mon amour," she pointed out.
"Nay, I'll never blame you for it, love," he promised her, gently stroking that stray hank of hair back behind her ear as he bent his head to kiss the tip of her nose. "Tease you, but never blame you." He flashed her that familiar grin of his, that taste of the wildness he had never quite grown out of, despite his responsibilities as the laird's son and heir.
"You are still a rogue and a charmer," she teased, giving him a playful shove as he kissed her nose, a dimpled smile of amusement lighting her face. "If you are not careful, my lord husband, our family will be expanding sooner rather than later."
"Not in the garden in front of the bairns, spriggit," he chuckled back to her, tweaking her nose as she shoved him lightly. "Och, I'm denied my love! I'll surely die!" Throwing a dramatic hand to his brow, he staggered backward, pitching over to lie sprawled on the grass with no attempt to hide his grin.
Justine laughed, but it was the twins who squealed in delight at their father's antics, both of them sprawling atop him with cries of "Papa!" in unison, clearly enamored of their father and hoping for some attention. Justine only stood watching. If he wanted rescuing, he would have to ask.
Bryce let out a low grunt as the two little ones threw themselves on top of him, laughing as he gathered both Lachlan and Heather into his arms, bouncing them upside-down as he sat up. "I'm under attack, am I" Thought you'd take advantage of your da while he was deid?"
Both twins squealed happily, delighted with their father's attention, enjoying having him join in their fun, like any child would.
"I am not coming to your rescue, mon amour," Justine warned, arms crossed, but an amused smile on her face.
"Och, you're a cruel woman, Justine Darroch," he teased her laughingly, tipping onto his back once again to set the twins on their feet. "And you two are wee monsters." He grinned at his children, tweaking each little nose in turn.
The children giggled again at their father's antics, Lachlan batting his father's hand away, while Heather only wrinkled her pretty nose, but before Bryce could move to his feet, Justine was dropping into his lap and gathering their children to her.
"Let us show Papa just how much we really love him, mes cheris!" she told them.
Bryce let out a laughing roar, wrapping his arms around all three of them as they bundled onto him. His mouth found purchase on Justine's neck, blowing a loud, ticklish raspberry there, secure in the knowledge that she couldn't fight back while her arms were occupied with the toddlers.
Justine gasped at her husband's cheekiness, though it hardly surprised her. Instead, she let go of the children who giggled again as she pushed their father onto his back. "Maintenant, mes cheris!" she told them as she pinned Bryce to the ground and each child pressed a wet raspberry to his cheeks.
With another roar of laughter, Bryce succumbed to the attack, his chuckles loud in the softness of the garden around them, flailing wildly for the enjoyment as much of his wife as of his children. Spitty cheeks aside, there was very little he enjoyed more than playing with his family, utterly shameless about abandoning important visitors to the keep just to amuse the ones he loved.
It was clear from the smiles and laughter that the laird's little family enjoyed playing as he did, but it was Justine whose smile was like sunshine on a cloudy day. That smile was not just joyful, but it was full of love and affection both for her children and the man who had completely captured her heart. Who's to say how long they might have tarried there if the nurse hadn't come by with a clearing of her throat to fetch the children for bed"
"My lord, my lady," she started, "'Tis time for the children to rest."
"'Tis the children's parents who need a rest," Justine murmured quietly, a tiny smirk on her face.
Bryce sat bolt upright, Lachlan hanging upside down over his shoulder, and Heather sprawled across his lap, somehow managing to look guilty in the face of the nurse who cared for their children when duty took them away. He cleared his throat, gently setting the toddlers back on their feet. "Well, my wee monsters, 'tis time for dreams," he informed them, stroking a fond hand against Heather's cheek, ruffling his fingers through Lachlan's hair. "Going to fight dragons in your sleep tonight, aye?"
"Aye, Papa!" the little boy replied, sounding like a mix of his parents' accents, but more like his father's than his mother's.
Heather pouted and flung her arms around her father's neck, on the verge of tears. "No, Papa! No bed! Play!"
"Och, my wee spriggit, no tears now," Bryce chuckled, rising to his knees to embrace the little girl who clung to him. He stroked her hair, gently drawing her back until she looked him in the eye. "If you don't sleep, there'll be no playing on the morrow. Aye, and no riding, either. Sleep comes first, and then the fun begins again. Aye?"
The little girl sniffled, nodding her head obediently, before lunging to hug him around the neck again.
Justine sighed, tempted to tell the nurse that they'd tuck the children in themselves, but that would teach them nothing. Still, she sometimes wished she and Bryce could raise their children the way other families did, without the need for nurses and guards. "Come, mes cheris, and give me a kiss!" she told them, bending low and opening her arms for her children.
"Go kiss your mother," Bryce urged little Heather, even as Lachland threw himself at Justine. "She'll pout if you don't, and that makes her look like a fish." He made the appropriate face for the little girl, winking over a grin to give her a gentle push toward her mother.
"I do not look like a fish," Justine protested, making a face like a fish in hopes of making the little girl laugh.
Lachlan tried to imitate the face his mother was making as he went to kiss her, leaving another raspberry against her cheek. Heather giggled at her mother and brother before launching herself at her mother for a proper kiss and hug.
"All right now, my little darlings, 'tis time for bed," the nurse reminded them, as the children said their goodnights.
"Goddess bless you, monsters," Bryce told them as he rose onto his feet, sliding his arm about Justine's waist once again. He watched the little ones go with a warm smile, a last wave when they looked back before disappearing inside, and let out a low sigh. "What do you say to a retreat when this business with Coimbra's done, love?" he murmured. "Somewhere just you and me and them. No servants or nurses or duties in the way."
Spring had finally come to Dunfayre, on the border of Coimbra and Francia, and to Darroch Keep, where the laird of the keep and his lady were enjoying an evening in the garden with their children, twins Jacques and Heather, who were toddling around, one after the other.
"Non, non!" their mother laughed as she scolded them gently. "If you grab at the flowers that way, mes cheris, you will be certain to be stung by a bee!" she warned, snatching two chubby hands away from the flowers that had finally come into bloom after a long winter.
Bryce chuckled behind her. "Och, a sting or tw'a will nae harm them, lass," he pointed out in amusement, ambling along behind his lady and their twin terrors at his own pace. It wasn't that he didn't care what happened to his children - more that he knew the harsher realities. A bee sting would not kill them, after all.
Justine frowned a little, knowing she couldn't chase after her children every moment of every day for the rest of their lives. Someday, they would have grow up and likely learn some painful lessons, but that day did not have to be today. "What kind of mother would I be if I let my children get hurt needlessly?" she countered, kissing each chubby hand before letting them go to toddle after each other and rising to face her handsome husband.
"No less a loving one, love," he promised her, moving to slide an arm about her waist. "We cannae coddle them. I'm not proposing to send them off to war or marriage, so stop frowning so. But wee accidents will happen - better they happen with us there than without."
"I suppose you are right," Justine admitted with a sigh and a faint frown. She batted at a stray strand of blond hair that kept falling in her face as her husband slid an arm about her waist. "You cannot blame me for wanting to always keep them safe, mon amour," she pointed out.
"Nay, I'll never blame you for it, love," he promised her, gently stroking that stray hank of hair back behind her ear as he bent his head to kiss the tip of her nose. "Tease you, but never blame you." He flashed her that familiar grin of his, that taste of the wildness he had never quite grown out of, despite his responsibilities as the laird's son and heir.
"You are still a rogue and a charmer," she teased, giving him a playful shove as he kissed her nose, a dimpled smile of amusement lighting her face. "If you are not careful, my lord husband, our family will be expanding sooner rather than later."
"Not in the garden in front of the bairns, spriggit," he chuckled back to her, tweaking her nose as she shoved him lightly. "Och, I'm denied my love! I'll surely die!" Throwing a dramatic hand to his brow, he staggered backward, pitching over to lie sprawled on the grass with no attempt to hide his grin.
Justine laughed, but it was the twins who squealed in delight at their father's antics, both of them sprawling atop him with cries of "Papa!" in unison, clearly enamored of their father and hoping for some attention. Justine only stood watching. If he wanted rescuing, he would have to ask.
Bryce let out a low grunt as the two little ones threw themselves on top of him, laughing as he gathered both Lachlan and Heather into his arms, bouncing them upside-down as he sat up. "I'm under attack, am I" Thought you'd take advantage of your da while he was deid?"
Both twins squealed happily, delighted with their father's attention, enjoying having him join in their fun, like any child would.
"I am not coming to your rescue, mon amour," Justine warned, arms crossed, but an amused smile on her face.
"Och, you're a cruel woman, Justine Darroch," he teased her laughingly, tipping onto his back once again to set the twins on their feet. "And you two are wee monsters." He grinned at his children, tweaking each little nose in turn.
The children giggled again at their father's antics, Lachlan batting his father's hand away, while Heather only wrinkled her pretty nose, but before Bryce could move to his feet, Justine was dropping into his lap and gathering their children to her.
"Let us show Papa just how much we really love him, mes cheris!" she told them.
Bryce let out a laughing roar, wrapping his arms around all three of them as they bundled onto him. His mouth found purchase on Justine's neck, blowing a loud, ticklish raspberry there, secure in the knowledge that she couldn't fight back while her arms were occupied with the toddlers.
Justine gasped at her husband's cheekiness, though it hardly surprised her. Instead, she let go of the children who giggled again as she pushed their father onto his back. "Maintenant, mes cheris!" she told them as she pinned Bryce to the ground and each child pressed a wet raspberry to his cheeks.
With another roar of laughter, Bryce succumbed to the attack, his chuckles loud in the softness of the garden around them, flailing wildly for the enjoyment as much of his wife as of his children. Spitty cheeks aside, there was very little he enjoyed more than playing with his family, utterly shameless about abandoning important visitors to the keep just to amuse the ones he loved.
It was clear from the smiles and laughter that the laird's little family enjoyed playing as he did, but it was Justine whose smile was like sunshine on a cloudy day. That smile was not just joyful, but it was full of love and affection both for her children and the man who had completely captured her heart. Who's to say how long they might have tarried there if the nurse hadn't come by with a clearing of her throat to fetch the children for bed"
"My lord, my lady," she started, "'Tis time for the children to rest."
"'Tis the children's parents who need a rest," Justine murmured quietly, a tiny smirk on her face.
Bryce sat bolt upright, Lachlan hanging upside down over his shoulder, and Heather sprawled across his lap, somehow managing to look guilty in the face of the nurse who cared for their children when duty took them away. He cleared his throat, gently setting the toddlers back on their feet. "Well, my wee monsters, 'tis time for dreams," he informed them, stroking a fond hand against Heather's cheek, ruffling his fingers through Lachlan's hair. "Going to fight dragons in your sleep tonight, aye?"
"Aye, Papa!" the little boy replied, sounding like a mix of his parents' accents, but more like his father's than his mother's.
Heather pouted and flung her arms around her father's neck, on the verge of tears. "No, Papa! No bed! Play!"
"Och, my wee spriggit, no tears now," Bryce chuckled, rising to his knees to embrace the little girl who clung to him. He stroked her hair, gently drawing her back until she looked him in the eye. "If you don't sleep, there'll be no playing on the morrow. Aye, and no riding, either. Sleep comes first, and then the fun begins again. Aye?"
The little girl sniffled, nodding her head obediently, before lunging to hug him around the neck again.
Justine sighed, tempted to tell the nurse that they'd tuck the children in themselves, but that would teach them nothing. Still, she sometimes wished she and Bryce could raise their children the way other families did, without the need for nurses and guards. "Come, mes cheris, and give me a kiss!" she told them, bending low and opening her arms for her children.
"Go kiss your mother," Bryce urged little Heather, even as Lachland threw himself at Justine. "She'll pout if you don't, and that makes her look like a fish." He made the appropriate face for the little girl, winking over a grin to give her a gentle push toward her mother.
"I do not look like a fish," Justine protested, making a face like a fish in hopes of making the little girl laugh.
Lachlan tried to imitate the face his mother was making as he went to kiss her, leaving another raspberry against her cheek. Heather giggled at her mother and brother before launching herself at her mother for a proper kiss and hug.
"All right now, my little darlings, 'tis time for bed," the nurse reminded them, as the children said their goodnights.
"Goddess bless you, monsters," Bryce told them as he rose onto his feet, sliding his arm about Justine's waist once again. He watched the little ones go with a warm smile, a last wave when they looked back before disappearing inside, and let out a low sigh. "What do you say to a retreat when this business with Coimbra's done, love?" he murmured. "Somewhere just you and me and them. No servants or nurses or duties in the way."