My Estranged Lover (Middlemarch Shifters Book 5) (18 page)

“I’m lucky to have you. Some men don’t like—”

“I think I’m the lucky one. Bed,” he repeated. “I don’t know about you, but I’m tired.”

Caroline went to him and kissed his brow. “I guess staying out overnight watching for sheep rustlers is tiring.”

Marsh yawned. “Bloody glad it’s not my turn tonight.”

“Do you think they’ll come again?”

“Hamish thinks so, and he’s in charge when Cam isn’t here.”

She let Marsh guide her toward their bedroom. “You get ready for bed. I’ll check on the boys first.”

“They’re both asleep. Ricky is snoring.”

“Now I have to check to see if you’re right.”

“I’ll do the I-told-you-so when you get in bed,” Marsh said with a yawn.

“Go to bed. I’ll be there in a minute.” Before he could argue, she trotted down the passage toward the boys’ rooms.

James had curled up in a ball, his breathing steady. She resettled the blankets around his form and gave in to the urge to touch, brushing his curls off his forehead. A wave of love filled her, and she knew she’d made the right decision. She could never leave her children, no matter what genes they carried.

And Marsh…

She smiled into the darkness and stood.

Ricky was snoring, his limbs twitching as if he were running. Of their two children, he’d been the most excited about turning into a cat. James drew black leopards, but Ricky had run around growling at everyone.

Marsh laughed and said he’d grow out of it. This was new to him.

Caroline resettled the covers Ricky had kicked off and leaned over to kiss his brow. Satisfied, the boys were settled, she returned to their bedroom. Marsh was also snoring. A grin curled her lips. There would be teasing tomorrow. She partially closed their door, leaving it ajar so she could hear if either of the boys needed them and pulled off her clothes.

She was tired herself, her muscles aching from lugging around boxes of fabrics. Emily and Tomasine had left and she and Isabella had gone through the boxes of supplies she’d purchased. It would be like having her own shop, and already her mind spun designs. She hadn’t felt this enthusiastic about sewing and designing for a long time.

Although she’d protested the cost, Isabella had waved the subject away. She had funds, she’d said, that she didn’t know how to spend and this investment was gold.

“Besides, learning how to sew buttons and hems and anything else you need done will give me more purpose. I help Emily in the café, but I need to do other stuff.”

Curiosity had propelled Caroline to ask, “What did you do before you came to Middlemarch?”

“I was an assassin.” She delivered this in a flat tone that from any other person Caroline would have cried fib.

“Truth?”

Isabella nodded, treating Caroline like a nervous animal that might flee at any second. “Ask Tomasine.”

“I suppose there aren’t many job openings for an assassin in Middlemarch.”

“No, that’s why I’m looking for something to fill my time.”

“Do you know any martial arts?”

“Yes.”

“Get your teaching certificate or whatever you need to teach and hold classes for the kids. In the country, there aren’t many opportunities for the kids. They’d love something like that. You could run classes for all ages. The local women might enjoy learning self-defense or you could run a fitness class. I’m sure there are situations where it is best for shifters to remain in human form. Discuss it with your Feline council.”

“You are a genius,” Isabella said. “I’ll talk to Saber.”

“I presume an assassin needs to keep fit. You could do a boot camp fitness class. Rugby is starting and people will want to get in training for the zombie run.”

Isabella had grabbed her in a hug and kissed her square on the mouth, shocking Caroline into silence. Saul had laughed hard enough to bust a gut. Caroline slid into bed, smiling at the memory.

“Why are you smiling?”

“Isabella kissed me today.”

“What?” Marsh sounded more awake.

“She was excited about the ideas I suggested. I think she’s bored and needs things to keep her busy.”

“That’s okay then. Leo is my friend. I’d hate to tell him our mates have run off together. I wouldn’t like it either.”

“Good to know,” she said and snuggled closer.

* * * * *

A growl woke her. High-pitched and loud, right next to her ear. Groggy from sleep, Caroline turned her head, trying to escape. Something furry brushed against her cheek, her eyes flicked open and she screamed, rolling from bed and getting tangled in the covers. She toppled to the floor, her gaze on the fluffy black cat quivering near her pillow. Its green eyes were big and wide, and it let out a cry.

Marsh came running from the bathroom, a towel around his waist. He scooped up the cat and held it, stroking along its spine until the animal purred.

Caroline slapped her hand over her yawn. “Where did it come from? James and Ricky must have sneaked it inside.”

“Back in a minute,” Marsh said in a terse voice.

Caroline picked herself up off the floor and pulled on her dressing gown. She stuffed her feet in her slippers just as Marsh appeared, the cat still in his arms.

Caroline frowned at the fluffy black bundle. It purred like a motor boat with each stroke of Marsh’s fingers. “It’s big for a domestic cat.”

“You’d better take a seat,” Marsh said, a strange expression on his face.

“Why? James? Ricky? Is something wrong?”

James appeared behind Marsh, his black curls sticking up at right angles. That answered part of her question.

“Ricky?”

“This is Ricky,” Marsh said.

“What? But…” Caroline parked her butt on the corner of their bed, her knees giving out on her. “I don’t understand. I thought only teenagers…” She stared at the purring cat—leopard—in Marsh’s arms. Her mouth worked but not a sound emerged.

Marsh stroked Ricky, and their son purred louder, lifting his head, so Marsh could stroke under his chin.

“How?” she asked. “Will he change back?”

“In theory,” Marsh said, his gaze on her.

“Theory?”

“He’s only three. I’ve never heard of children shifting this early, not apart from Sylvie.”

Caroline puffed out a breath. “Sylvie is okay.”

“I…hell.” Marsh set Ricky on the bed beside Caroline and Ricky sidled up to her. Automatically, she stroked his back and soon his loud rumbly purrs filled the bedroom.

“Marsh, what aren’t you telling me?”

“He’s three. Getting him to understand how to shift might be more difficult than it was with Sylvie. Felix told me, the shift terrified her, and he worried she wouldn’t shift back. The first shift is painful.”

Caroline understood everything Marsh didn’t state aloud. Ricky had to want to shift back to his human form, and given Ricky’s disappointment at not being able to shift until he was a teenager plus the pain angle, their son might stay in feline form.

“Can you talk to him?”

“I’ll do my best,” Marsh promised.

James sidled closer and climbed on the bed, his eyes wide. “Wow.”

“Yes,” Caroline said dryly.

Ricky gave her hand a nudge because she’d stopped patting him.

“It’s time to get moving.” Marsh scooped up Ricky.

Caroline watched them leave, fear swooping through her belly.

“Is that Ricky?” James asked.

“Yes,” Caroline said. “Don’t you dare copy him, James Rutherford. This is not a contest.”

“I can draw him.”

Caroline exhaled, aware she’d been sharp with her son. “Yes, of course you can. Ask Daddy to take photos for you. Ricky will be in his human form soon.”

She hoped.

Chapter Eleven

On automatic pilot, Caroline grabbed a box of breakfast cereal from the pantry and plonked it on the kitchen table. She put on the jug and walked to a cupboard to get out plates. Her son—her three-year-old son had transformed into a leopard.

James entered the kitchen, then she heard a growl and the clack of claws against the tiled kitchen floor. She turned from the cutlery drawer in time to see Ricky leap at James’s back. Her oldest son landed with a crash, sending a chair toppling to the floor.

Ricky put his furry head close to James’s and growled, white teeth flashing.

“Ricky!” Caroline darted closer to grab Ricky, and he bared his teeth at her. Undeterred, she reached out to seize him by the scruff, and her son clawed her, hissing and spitting when James attempted to struggle free.

Caroline winced as her breaths sawed in and out and the pain kicked in. She gaped at the lines of blood that formed on her forearm.

“Ricky.” Marsh tone was harsh and growly. “Let James up.”

Ricky continued to hiss and spit, and Marsh moved so fast, Caroline blinked. He grabbed Ricky by the scruff and held him up, then roared at his son in a feline manner. There was an instant of stunned silence then Ricky went limp in Marsh’s grip. He gave a tiny whimper, and Marsh placed him on the floor.

“Stay there,” Marsh snapped.

Ricky sat and shook.

Caroline glanced away from the blood beaded on her arm, feeling lightheaded. Marsh murmured to James and helped him to feet.

“Start your breakfast while I fix your mum’s arm. Can you get your cereal?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

Caroline groaned. There would be cereal all over the table.

Marsh crouched beside her where she still sat on the floor. “Are you okay?” He surveyed the scratch marks. “He got you good.”

“Yeah. He frightened me.” Tears swam in her eyes, reaction setting in. Frightened of her own son.

“It won’t happen again. If he misbehaves, you must tell me.”

“I will,” she promised.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” Marsh helped her up and led her to the bathroom.

“You realize James will spill cereal everywhere.”

“He might surprise us.” Marsh washed off the blood and studied the wound. “It’s not too bad. You don’t need stitches.”

Caroline felt her mouth drop open. Shock slapped her as the truth of his words dawned. “You mean he could have injured me worse?”

“Yes.” Marsh’s tone was grim. “I’ll lay down the law with him. If you have problems, get an adult to snarl at him. There is a hierarchy in a shifter leap. Elders get respect and Ricky will have to learn that. It’s a natural process of learning, but Ricky is doing things differently.”

“Mum! Mum!”

“Just a minute, James,” Marsh called. “I’ll put on iodine spray and plasters.”

“Have we got colored ones? I need to help Saul in the kitchen as soon as Dara collects James. And figure out what to do with Ricky.”

“Mum! Dad!” James shouted.

She and Marsh hurried along the passage to the kitchen.

“What is it?” Marsh demanded.

“Look what Ricky did,” James said and pointed.

Ricky sat on the kitchen floor beside a large puddle.

“Oh, heck,” Caroline said. “And I thought it couldn’t get any worse.”

* * * * *

Two days later, Ricky remained in feline form, and Caroline was at her wits end. His early shift fascinated the other feline residents at Glenshee. They didn’t have to clean up the puddles on the floor—toileting mishaps—or deal with the other problems created by a young feline. He kept using his claws on the walls and furniture, then there was meal time. It didn’t seem right giving him cereal and milk or porridge.

James sat at their table, eating his breakfast while Ricky ate chopped steak from a bowl. Once finished, Ricky trotted over to her and wound between her legs, purring loudly.

“Ricky, are you going to shift today? Remember what Daddy told you about shifting?”

Marsh had spoken to Ricky and described the shifting process. By now, even Caroline knew to imagine her form and concentrate to start a shift from feline to human.

Ricky cocked his head and ran to the door. As usual, he ignored the instructions, seeming happy in feline form.

Marsh arrived home, exhausted after keeping watch over a flock of sheep. “Hey.” He kissed her, ruffled James’s hair and stooped to pet Ricky.

“I think you should send him to school with James,” Marsh said.

“Will he be safe?”

A tap sounded on the door seconds before it opened. Isabella sauntered into the kitchen. Dara arrived seconds later to collect James for school.

“I think you should keep him to a routine,” Isabella said, not even pretending she hadn’t eavesdropped.

Marsh sank onto a chair at the kitchen table. “Hopefully he’ll miss the things he used to do as a human and shift on his own.”

Caroline eyed her younger son. “The next time he makes a puddle on the floor, I will rub his nose in it.”

A gurgle escaped Isabella, and she slapped her hand over her mouth.

“I hadn’t thought of the practicalities,” Dara said, her lips twitching as she fought a smile.