Page 52 of The Remains of Love

“If ye keep looking at me like that, Wife, ye shall find yourself with child again far too soon.”

Chris smoothed her dressing gown. “You make it sound like a threat, Husband, but all I hear is a promise.”

Alistair chuckled, causing wee Alice to squirm.

“Come here,” he beckoned toward Chris.

Grinning, she came, a glide of colorful silk, her hair a long braid down her back. “What do you have planned? You are still holding our daughter, in case you have forgotten.”

With one hand supporting Alice on his shoulder, he slipped the other around Chris’s waist, pulling her flush against him.

Bending his head, he kissed her.

A kiss of knowing, of tenderness.

A kiss that originated in the well of joy she inspired.

Chris looped one arm around his neck, the other coming to rest on Alice’s back.

Popping onto tiptoe, she kissed their daughter’s head.

And then Alistair’s cheek.

“I love you, Alis,” she whispered in his ear.

“And I you, Chris.”

Chris leaned her head into his free shoulder, relaxing into him.

Swaying, Alistair danced his two lasses in a slow circle. The crackle of the fire and the softshushof Alice’s breathing blended with the beating of Chris’s heart against his chest.

The most beautiful music, he thought.

A symphony of love.