Charming the Devil (25 page)

“Little Cat,” Faye said softly, and did nothing to draw the girl into the open. There were times to hide and times to be brave. She knew that now. “This is Rogan McBain.” The child shifted slightly, peering past the folds of Faye’s lavender skirt with one shy eye.

“He’s…” The girl’s voice was no more than a lisped whisper. “…scary.”

“At times,” Faye agreed, watching him. “But he is also gentle-hearted and brave. Though he doesn’t yet know it.” She squeezed the child’s hand and looked down into the hopeful spring of her eyes. “’Tis our task to teach him.”

Silence echoed in the room.

“Catherine.” Rogan’s voice was a rumble of dark emotion. “Catherine Winden.”

Faye nodded.

Rogan’s throat contracted. “She yet lives.”

Tears stung Faye’s eyes. “Yes.”

“Wee Cat…” His voice broke. He cleared his throat. “You found her.”

“Yes.”

“For me.”

“For us all,” she said, and he hit his knees as tears welled in his stormy eyes.

T
he room was dark, the night quiet. Rogan kissed Faye with a quiet passion reserved for her alone, and she kissed him back. They’d not yet been married a full year, but she could feel a babe stir in her womb. A wee sister for little Cat.

New life was sharpening her every sense, honing each unearthly power. Or maybe it was simply her newfound security that strengthened her. Oh aye, she had learned she did not need a protector to keep her safe, but she had also learned that she very much enjoyed having one.

“I love you,” he rumbled, and she smiled, knowing it was true, knowing it would always be true.

“I love you too,” she murmured, “but I will still see to this mission alone.”

“You’ll not,” he said, but they both knew she would do what she would. ’Twas the way with Les Chausettes.

A sharp-nosed vixen pointed her nose in the room, sniffed, then trotted through. Two others followed. Just part of the family. Cur had had a
word with them. They were quite well behaved. Better than Cur, according to Shaleena.

“A member of Parliament has gone missing,” she said. “Lord Gallo believes a Mr. Barton may know something of his disappearance.”

His hand roamed her back, pulling her closer. “Then Lord Gallo should question him,” he said.

“But
I
am the one who can garner the truth,” she said.

“Give me ten minutes alone with him I am fair sure I can do the same,” he rumbled ominously.

“As it happens, they still want him alive at the end of the day. Besides, Lord Gallo is uncomfortable with tears.”

“I would try to keep him quiet.”

“I meant yours,” she said. What had she done before she had him to tease? To love. To touch. To ease her headaches with his quiet earnestness. “It seems you are weeping each time I turn about.”

“I do not cry,” he rumbled.

There was happiness like music in her soul “Only when little Cat falls and scrapes her hands.”

For a moment she thought he would deny her words, but he scowled finally. “They’re such wee little things,” he said finally, and she laughed again as she turned away, but he caught her fingers in his fist, pulling her back.

“You are my life,” he said.

Hope flowed between them. Hope and love and so much more. “And you mine.”

“You’ll be careful?”

“For you,” she promised, kissing the back of his hand before stepping away. “And the baby.”

“There’s a bairn?” he rasped, and she laughed as tears filled his ethereal eyes.