Sylvia looked over the edge of her desk to where Beata sat on a quilt contentedly playing with her ever present lamb, the lettered blocks, and a few other toys of hers. The caterwauling of her sons had started an hour earlier just as Beata and Aidan had woken from their naps. The deep cold outside was keeping the whole family cooped up, and the boys were given some liberties in the situation. Running up and down the hallways and stairs, exclaiming their triumph over this or that evil doer, the tower rescued, even came in to claim Beata had been freed from the dragon which had been met with wide green eyes of the little girl, but remarkably no crying.
What was disturbing at the moment was the marked quiet of the boys. Sylvia stood from her desk where she had been reading over the latest reports of the warehouse and messages from Yransea. She leaned down to kiss her daughter?s head as she stepped to the doorway.
?Hail thair, caraid, whatch?er step. Thair be dragoons a?boot!? It was the worst highland accent she had ever heard that came out of Cian?s mouth. But that was not what alarmed her the most. Her boys were standing with their wooden swords in hand and clad in nothing more than tunics with sheets wrapped about them in some mockery of great kilt style.
?Blazing pyres, Cian Kieransson, what are you doing??
He looked at his clothing and up at her, ?What??
?Go upstairs and get dressed. You?re going to freeze in that.?
?Master Fraiser wears this,? he countered.
Sylvia was having none of it, ?Master Fraiser is a grown man and accustomed to the wearing of such garments.? If the laughter broke out now, there would be no convincing them. Aidan was already prancing around in twists and turns watching the sheet move about his bare legs. ?Go upstairs and at least get some pants on.?
?Master Fraiser does not wear pants under his kilt!?
?I am not about to discuss with you what Master Fraiser does or does not wear under his kilt. You will go get some pants on, young sir, or you will find yourself confined to your room until supper.? She pointed up the stairs. ?You, too,? she spoke to Aidan. Sword dropped, her youngest son went in a tear, using hands and feet, to get up the stairs. Cian stiffened his back and stomped his disagreement the entire way to his room.
Sylvia turned toward the wall, rested her forehead there, and began to laugh so hard tears tickled the corners of her eyes.
What was disturbing at the moment was the marked quiet of the boys. Sylvia stood from her desk where she had been reading over the latest reports of the warehouse and messages from Yransea. She leaned down to kiss her daughter?s head as she stepped to the doorway.
?Hail thair, caraid, whatch?er step. Thair be dragoons a?boot!? It was the worst highland accent she had ever heard that came out of Cian?s mouth. But that was not what alarmed her the most. Her boys were standing with their wooden swords in hand and clad in nothing more than tunics with sheets wrapped about them in some mockery of great kilt style.
?Blazing pyres, Cian Kieransson, what are you doing??
He looked at his clothing and up at her, ?What??
?Go upstairs and get dressed. You?re going to freeze in that.?
?Master Fraiser wears this,? he countered.
Sylvia was having none of it, ?Master Fraiser is a grown man and accustomed to the wearing of such garments.? If the laughter broke out now, there would be no convincing them. Aidan was already prancing around in twists and turns watching the sheet move about his bare legs. ?Go upstairs and at least get some pants on.?
?Master Fraiser does not wear pants under his kilt!?
?I am not about to discuss with you what Master Fraiser does or does not wear under his kilt. You will go get some pants on, young sir, or you will find yourself confined to your room until supper.? She pointed up the stairs. ?You, too,? she spoke to Aidan. Sword dropped, her youngest son went in a tear, using hands and feet, to get up the stairs. Cian stiffened his back and stomped his disagreement the entire way to his room.
Sylvia turned toward the wall, rested her forehead there, and began to laugh so hard tears tickled the corners of her eyes.