Chapter Forty-Three
An insistent wail increased in pitch, jolting Emma from the unconscious depths of her weariness. Torin’s warm touch pressed her back into the pillows. His lips brushed against her cheek as his husky whisper rasped through the half-light of the room. “Stay, Emma. I’ll get the wee lassie this time. Ye need to get some sleep.”
The thud of his feet hitting the hardwood floor as he dragged himself out of the bed convinced Emma to let Torin have a turn. For the past five days, their little house guest had fretted every hour like clockwork through the night until the first chimes of morning rang. As soon as the sun peeped over the horizon, her silvery lashes fell to her cheeks and she slept soundly through most of the day. Emma didn’t know what time zone spanned the land of the Fae but the baby’s days and nights didn’t match theirs.
Emma was too exhausted to go back to sleep. Working at the clinic each day after tending the baby all night was beginning to take its toll. She had a newfound respect for working mothers. How in the world did they function with little or no rest?
A tuneless song sprinkled with the odd Gaelic phrase here and there kept time with the baby’s hiccupping cries. Emma smiled. Poor Torin. He sang even worse than she did. Forcing open her weighted eyelids, Emma rolled to her side and propped herself on one elbow so she could peer across the foot of the bed.
The displeased Fae princess fisted her little hands on Torin’s bare shoulder as he cradled her against his chest. Her golden curls tumbled over Torin’s outspread fingers as he supported her little head. With a bouncing walk keeping time with his humming tune, Torin paced back and forth through the patch of moonlight forcing the darkness from the room. The blue-white light streaming through the window colored his body in an eerie glow. The silver-tinged skin of the wailing Fae child sparkled as though the unhappy little girl had been dusted with ground diamonds.
As Torin’s tuneless song lilted through the night, the baby’s fussing diminished to an occasional grumble every few minutes. But her round dark eyes remained wide open. There wasn’t a hint of sleepiness in her alert, little face.
Emma smiled at Torin’s contented expression. Chin tucked. Eyes partially closed. A half-smile played across his weary face. Her heart pulled at the gentle way he cuddled the child, trying to convince the baby to sleep. Half-closing her eyes, Emma indulged in a rare fantasy. Maybe this is what it would’ve been like if she’d ever met someone and had children of her own. A cozy little house. A thoughtful husband helping with their fussy baby. If only. Jerking her eyes wide open, Emma shoved the tempting dream from her mind. It was too late. That life wasn’t meant for her. She might as well not even think about it.
Torin’s pacing stopped and his eyes flew open. Even in the darkness, Emma could see the pain shining from their depths.
“Emma. It is not too late. Dinna condemn yourself to a life of solitude. That is nay your path.”
His whispered words chilled her to the bone. She’d scolded him before about reading her mind. He knew better. What else did the scarred warrior know about the insecurities spinning about in her head? “I’ve asked you not to do that.” Emma scooted to the end of the bed, folding her legs as she pulled herself upright and propped an elbow on each knee. Leaning against her clasped hands, Emma stifled a jaw-cracking yawn. “Stop reading my mind. Period.”
Torin swayed another lap through the moonlight, smiling down at the now-cooing child squirming in his arms. “I didna read your mind, my heart. Your emotions echoed through the darkness much louder than thoughts or words.” Settling on the end of the bed beside her, Torin shifted the Fae princess to a sitting position in the crook of his arm. “We could have this happiness, Emma. This simple joy could someday be ours.”
Uncertainty panged through Emma’s being steadier than her heartbeat. No matter how much she longed to believe those words, she just couldn’t see how it could ever be. She’d waited too long and now her life had spun out of control in some sort of hocus-pocus mess. How could she ever know something as simple as hearth, home and a family? “No, Torin. I may be a lot of things, but the main thing I am is realistic.” Holding out both hands toward the wide-eyed baby, Emma blinked the threat of tears from her eyes. “Give her to me and get some rest. I’m wide-awake with all this confusion in my head and I want to enjoy her as much as I can. I’m sure Cu Sith will find her family soon and we’ll have to give her back.”
Torin’s lips tightened into a disapproving line. His face darkened as he stared down at the child. “Why won’t ye listen to me, Emma? Why won’t ye trust in what I say?”
Hugging the squirming baby to her chest, Emma inhaled the intoxicating scent of the tot. Lavender mixed with the baby’s milky breath awakened an ancient longing from the depths of her womb. Emma swallowed hard, struggling against the magic of the baby’s fragrance and the instincts the warm bundle triggered. Rubbing her cheek against the child’s silky hair, Emma breathed in another delicious breath. She didn’t know if it was the moonlight, the weariness, or Torin’s close proximity but she couldn’t remember ever wanting a child of her own as badly as she wanted one now.
She longed to trust Torin’s words. But how could she? She wasn’t blind. Torin detested every minute he spent trapped in this world. He’d be gone as soon as possible and she couldn’t convince herself to go with him. How could she ever leave everything she’d ever known? Drawing in another shaking breath, Emma cradled the baby closer as she rose from the end of the bed. “Go to sleep, Torin. There’s no sense in discussing this now.”
“We could have this, Emma.” His whisper echoed through the darkness, his brogue tinged with insistence.
Emma shook her head as she strolled to the window, turning so the baby could reach toward the glowing moon smiling down from the blue-black sky. “No, Torin. You’re leaving as soon as we finish whatever it is that we’re supposed to do. Now, go to sleep. I’m too tired to argue about this now.”
Torin blew out a frustrated breath; his eyes snapped in the darkness. Jumping up from the bed, he stomped to the bedroom door, pausing after he yanked it open. “I canna sleep when ye willna see reason. I’ll be outside searching for guidance among the stars.”
“Find some for me too,” Emma whispered over the top of the baby’s head as the door closed with a quiet bang.