Into the Embers

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A/N: This idea was inspired by a passage in the book which touches me every time I read it – I’ll reveal this passage at the end, as it belongs there better. Please read and review!

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Into the Embers

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She studied his face in the first light of dawn, memorizing every plane and angle until her observation was interrupted by the object slowly stirring and opening his eyes. Then feeling her gaze on him, he smiled, his eyes glowing with iridescent happiness. ‘Morning, my lovely lass.’

How she loved it when he called her that in his soft northern lilt, in the special way he reserved only for her. She snuggled up closer to him, sighing contentedly. ‘Good morning.’

*

She had not noticed him awaken and rise until he was standing beside her in the moonlight streaming through the window. ‘I couldn’t sleep,’ she said, answering his question before he could ask it. She laid a hand on her swollen belly and smiled. ‘Someone insisted on keeping me awake.’

Stifling a yawn, he laid his hand over hers. ‘How long is it now?’

She leaned into him, marveling at how perfectly they fit together. ‘About another month. Just think – one month and we’ll have an addition to the family.’

He hugged her close to him. ‘I hope it’s a little girl who looks just like her mother.’

Moving out of his arms a little so that she could turn and face him, she looked at him in surprise. ‘A little girl! I thought all men wanted a son?’

He shrugged, smiling sleepily at her astonishment. ‘I would love to have a son. I would also love to have a daughter. All I want is a healthy and happy wife and child.’

She settled back in his arms and sighed happily. In moments like these, she was more than usually glad that she had not given in to her relatives’ disapproval and had settled for nothing less than a marriage based on love.

*

She was sitting in the train carriage, physically tired but mentally alert, watching the unfamiliar scenery flash past, reflecting on the past few happy weeks. One hand stroked the soft dark hair of the toddler whose head was resting in her lap while the other was encased in the large, warm hand of the man sitting beside her, his head having lolled onto her shoulder in slumber.

Their trip to Spain had been wonderful, and it had been so lovely to see her dear brother, the hero of her childhood again. And if the two most important men in her life had not immediately taken to each other, they had each eventually seen the other’s sincere affection and devotion towards her and had striven to become friends, a feat they had achieved some time before they had left.

She looked down at the little boy in her lap and smiled; he had taken after his father, she thought, rather than his namesake in everything but the remarkable blue-black hair and the fair complexion which when coupled with his stunning azure eyes made such a striking combination. He would grow up to be a handsome man.

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