Page 2 of Honorable Sins

Expressionless, Sorcha takes the crumpled paper, flattens it and adds it to her own pile, this one as neat and tidy as a nun's room at the convent.

Miles, the mutt with a big dose of bulldog in his ancestry Kara adopted from a shelter for Fitz while she was pregnant with Cormac, keeps a dozy eye on his people from a spot by the fireplace. Gobby, our son's cat, is nowhere to be seen.

He's probably hiding one of the ornaments somewhere in Fitz's room as homage to his favorite person. Although the cat is surprisingly tolerant of the littles.

Cormac, our almost four-year-old, is waging war with miniature nutcracker ornaments. Two have already lost their heads and the tip of the spear of another doesn't look long for this world.

Kara keeps a set of them hung around the bottom branches of the tree for the chislers to play with, gluing heads and parts back on as needed. There's an entire box of tree decorations she's accumulated that double as toys.

Figurines that used to be Fitz's favorites. Miniature stuffies from a Christmas movie. All of the deer from Rudolph's movie have red noses courtesy of Fitz because Cormac cried about Rudolph being different.

That's our twelve-year-old all over. He sees a problem and he fixes it, but especially for his younger brother and sisters.

Kara brushes her hand over the top of Sorcha's head after passing the string of lights to Fitz who is standing at the top of the step ladder beside the tree. Our dour daughter doesn't react, but she doesn't flinch away from her mam's touch like she does anyone outside our immediate family either.

That's something, I guess.

I don't remember distinguishing between my parents and siblings and the rest of the world as a child. I didn't want anyone touching me. Maybe it would have been different if I'd been born a twin.

Mavie is Sorcha's person and she acts as a conduit to the rest of us.

Kara bends down to redistribute a lump of ornaments all hanging on a single branch close to Mavie.

As she straightens, I pull her into my arms and kiss her temple, inhaling her scent and letting it settle me. "Aren't we supposed to get the lights on before you start decorating?"

Kara turns in my arms and grins up at me. "Good luck getting the wild ones to wait."

Her lips are too kissable to resist. So, I don't. She tastes like cinnamon and I get lost in the sweetness that is my wife.

Until a sturdy body lands against my legs. "Da! You're home."

Kara breaks the kiss and steps back so the chislers can greet their da.

I drop to my haunches and ruffle Cormac's hair. "That I am." Mavie lands against me with an oomph, demanding a hug and a kiss.

Then I put my hand out to Sorcha and our quiet girl, brushes her own over it before stepping back.

"If you and mom want to hang the lights, I can get the littles to play a game with me," Fitz offers.

I step up to grab the lights, hanging them on the other side of the tree and then bring the long-assed strand of multicolored LED lights back around to him. "Na. Let them do their worst. You know your mam will only come in later and rearrange everything above the lowest branches later tonight anyway."

And I don't want Kara on the stepladder, which she'll insist on climbing to get the lights on the top half of the tree because I'm so much taller than her.

"And you'll help her because you love her." Fitz looks at me with a question in his eyes.

I don't know what it's about; he knows I love his mam.

"Aye. I'll help her." If for no other reason than to get my woman into our bed that much sooner.

I do not feckin' care if our tree looks festive or like a grumpy Christas elf threw up all over it, but I do care if my wife is happy with it.

"Uncle Adam doesn't treat Aunt Margot the way you treat mom." Fitz is too intent on getting the light strand just where he wants it to look at me.

"He's not unkind to her." If he were, I'd sort him, brother, or no brother.

Once I learned what Chivon's husband did to her during their short marriage, I killed the men who knew it was happening and did nothing to stop it. We hurt our enemies, not our families.

"No. But…" Fitz's voice trails off.