Page 73 of Iron Cross

I didn’t want to come off too keen.

Though, it was probably a little too late.

I should have gotten rid of the fucking painting though. The damn thing had served its purpose. It struck fear in my enemy, and the dregs that fled Durante’s ranks numbered in the hundreds. Deserters, all of them. And even more became informants, pleading for leniency whenever his inevitable demise came at my hands.

My father was insane, but he had been right. Vlad Tepes had a fucking point.

When the scurrying maids came out, they took one look at me in my “Aaron Jackson” clothes and went pale with shock.

I’m sure they wondered if it was really me. They’d never seen me in anything so… rural before.

I couldn’t wait to get back into my suits.

I never understood why people thought that jeans were so comfortable, when in reality they were just stiff and untailored. They might be sturdy, but to say they were more comfortable than slacks or trousers was completely wrong.

Malinda, as the new head of the household, came out first. She’d taken over for her aging mother, who now needed care for her progressing dementia. As the sole caregiver for the housekeeper who had faithfully served my family, Malinda could never be fired. She knew it. So did I. I did not believe in nepotism, but there was something to be said about rewarding families for their loyalties, and she had begged, with tears in her eyes, to stay employed for her own sake so she could “earn her keep”.

I’d have given anything for her to just shut up.

The look on Kira’s face - the malice in her eyes - only confirmed what I should have already known. I should have just paid for Malinda’s mother out of pocket and sent her packing.

Then again, I didn’t hate the jealousy that passed through my darling Muse’s face.

I just didn’t like her discomfort.

“Malinda, go and make sure my son’s room is ready,” I said, in a voice that was far harsher than she’d ever heard. But I wanted to make my lines clear. I was Kira’s husband. She was now lady of the house. “Ginny,” I called to the girl beside her, a new addition to the household in the recent shuffling of staff, that involved executing most of my father’s old guards. “Please attend to Mrs. Green and my son, Cillian.”

To my wife, I softened my tone considerably, not just because she was a flight risk, but because I felt a satisfaction in seeing her here. Seeing her son in my home. Inourhome.

The discontent that roiled inside my guts had been wiped away with her simple presence, and I wouldn’t fuck it up again.

“Sweet Muse,” I called gently to her. “Everyone is at your disposal. I’ll come back in a few minutes after I change. Everything you need is in our suite if you also wish to change.”

She looked at me, confused, probably unable to make a choice. I would not dictate to her what she should do.

“He needs to nap,” she finally said.

I looked and our son had gone limp in her arms, his long thigh dangling at her side, as she held him, awkwardly trying to balance the boy in her arms.

His eyes were open, but blinking slowly, heavy in his exhaustion. Poor thing was tired after such an eventful morning.

You and me both, son.

“The nursery,” I said, pointing the way to the old room she and I had once shared. “It’s been… converted.”

She shook her head. “Please, I’ve never…”

She looked around nervously at Malinda and Ginny, before she walked up the stairs, the boy in her arms making her footsteps heavy.

When she was right in front of me, I resisted the urge to take her burden. I resisted pulling the boy into my arms so that I could lighten her load because I wasn’t sure she’d want me to do that.

“Please, Eoghan, I've never spent the night away from him in his whole life. Please… don’t…” She let out a long sigh, her shoulders slumping. “I should sleep in the nursery with him.”

My teeth clenched.

“No wife of mine is going to sleep on a fucking toddler mattress,” I said, glowering at her, before I schooled my features. She did not need my stares and brooding. I would not scare her off again. “I’ll have his bed brought into our room.”

“He can only sleep with me,” she said, in a whisper. “He can’t sleep on his own. He’s… he’s just a baby.”

---