Page 8 of Winds of War

Fabian patted Ardan on the back, then both men stepped out of the office and exited the administrative building, parting ways. Although he was exhausted, The Base's boss chose to walk the half mile separating the sanctuary from his home, hoping the clear, crispy autumn air would help him to clear his head and get his thoughts in order.

Ardan made a mental note to have a private conversation with Cian. Letting out a long sigh, he thought about the best way to approach the delicate subject of his son's romantic life. Ardan needed all his diplomatic abilities, especially since Cian was much more sensible than his twin Lorcan, mainly because of the heart condition he was diagnosed with four years earlier.

Alasdair. The name of his husband brought the incandescent light back in Ardan's eyes, the barely there smile playing on his lips again. Although his twin sons returned the immense love he was showering them with, they shared a special bond with their stepfather. The red-haired doctor was their confidante and best friend, the one they turned to for guidance and advice when Ardan was away.

My Spitfire will smooth the path for me; he has this rare gift of seeing into someone's soul and making everyone feel at ease in his presence, The Base's boss thought, smiling. For a moment, the man closed his eyes, inhaling sharply as he realized how much he missed Alasdair's warm voice and his calming presence.

The closer Ardan got to his home, the faster his heart hammered in his chest, in spite of the efforts he made to keep his feelings under control. When he finally arrived at the far end of his home's driveway, the man covered the last few yards to the main entrance in only a few seconds. My Spitfire will give me hell for this, Ardan thought, stopping for a moment to catch his breath.

“Cars were invented with a purpose, you know.” The all too familiar, sexy man's voice made The Base's boss flinch, his heart racing in his chest again, this time for a different reason. “Welcome home, husband. I've missed you like hell,” Alasdair purred, putting his head on Ardan's chest.

“Papa's home!” Paisley and Axel came running from their room, stopping a few inches away from the two men who gave them an amused look, shaking their heads in sync. “I told you I saw him when I looked out the window.” the little girl turned to her brother, then hugged Ardan's legs. “I missed you soooo much,” she sighed, “and I'm very happy you're home.”

“I love you, Papa,” Axel said in his small, quiet voice, his turquoise eyes shining with happiness. “Here is what I've made for you.” The little boy gave his father a piece of paper.

“That's...” As Ardan stared at the drawing representing two adults, three boys, and two small children, a boy and a girl, his eyes glistened with tears. “That's so beautiful, son. Thank you so much.” He picked the little boy up and hugged him to his chest.

“Axel drew another one with you wearing a cape and surrounded by all these kids you’ve rescued. Our art teacher says he is the most talented child in the classroom,” Paisley said in a voice filled with sisterly affection and pride.

Ardan crouched down, Axel safely cocooned in his arms, and picked Paisley up, too, then headed to the children's spacious recreation room, followed by Alasdair. After finding out about his husband being diagnosed with atrial fibrillation during the time he spent in Chicago, the redhead closely monitored Ardan when he was at home, forbidding him to engage in intense physical activities.

However, not even Alasdair with his silver tongue and seductive smile could stop his soulmate from picking up their younger children and carrying them to the living room or play area, depending on the plans they had for the afternoons. Sometimes, there was no plan at all, and the three of them ended up taking the whole house by storm.

For Ardan, Paisley and Axel were the embodiment of innocence, the chance he was given to start things afresh, to experience each and every blessing that came from being a father. The man loved all his children with everything he had, but the red-haired twins had a special place in his heart. Just like Alasdair, they were Ardan's safe haven, an oasis of calmness in his agitated life.

Once in the room where they spent most of the time, Paisley and Axel started to bombard their fathers with stories about their teachers, classmates, and friends. As always when both men were present, the two children's attention was directed mainly to Ardan, who listened in fascination to everything they said.

That day was no exception, and between stories, games, and laughter, the hours flew by and dinner time came. Alasdair went into the kitchen and started to fix a light meal, Ardan joining him a little later for the pleasure of stealing him a few kisses and to hug the redhead from behind, whispering heated promises into his ear.

“Do you need guests for dinner, Spitfire?” Lorcan's singsong voice, so much like his father's, took the two men by surprise, making them smile happily.

“C'mon in, take a seat, and let's feed your hungry asses,” Alasdair affectionately replied, greeting the unexpected guests from the kitchen door. “There's a little army of you here.” He swept his gaze over Lorcan, his boyfriend Thorvald, Cian, Gavin, Jeroen— also known as Whitey—and his stepbrothers Lochlin and Emery. The boys cutely grinned at the redhead, playfully waving at him.

“Sorry for the short notice. We were hungry and your house was the closest, so we thought to crash here and fill our bellies with the tasty food you cook. This one here says I'm all skin and bones and worries over me not eating enough”—Jeroen pointed to Gavin—“so I want to show him how bitterly wrong he is.”

“I don't want you to overeat, either,” the boy in question mumbled. “You can get sick, you weirdo.” Gavin gave the platinum blond boy a very light smack over his head.

“He loves me,” Whitey mouthed, placing one of his hands above his heart. “Thank you for taking care of me.” He turned to Gavin, who rolled his eyes.

“Meds time, I need a glass of water,” Cian said, heading to the kitchen. “Pater, when did you come home? Why didn't you let us know you were here?” He threw himself into his father's arms, inhaling the man's comforting scent.

“And miss all the fun from earlier? I don't think so.” Ardan winked, wrapping his arms around Cian's slim body and kissing him on the forehead. “Is it only me or are you looking much better than a week ago when I left for Detroit?”

“He definitely looks much better. I told him that, too.” Whitey appeared in the kitchen's doorway, a huge grin on his face. “Hanging out with Don Joaquin has done wonders for him,” the platinum-blond boy continued, earning himself another eye roll from Gavin. “Um...hi, Uncle Ardan.”

“Man, with this one around, our enemies don't even bother to plant moles inside The Base. All they have to do is capture him, and he'll spill all the beans in no time.” Lochlin shook his head.

“No, he won't.” Gavin's voice was deadly serious, no trace of amusement in it. “I think Whitey here would rather let himself be tortured to death than to betray us. He's loyal like that. The greatest weirdo on the planet, but also one of the most loyal men on the face of the Earth.”

“There's an army of you to feed this evening, so I need some volunteers to babysit Paisley and Axel.” Alasdair's mockingly commanding voice broke the silence that threatened to overtake the kitchen after Gavin's passionate words.

“I'm offering as a tribute for babysitting”—Whitey grinned—“and I'm taking my brave defender with me.” He pointed in Gavin's direction. “We make a good team in the wild.”

“ Pater, Spitfire,” Lorcan said, pointing to himself, Thorvald, and Cian, “the three of us will help you feed them since they may become dangerous when hungry,” making Ardan burst into a fit of laughter.

CHAPTER 7

“That was divine.” Whitey rubbed his flat belly an hour later, letting out a small moan of appreciation. “Spitfire, you are almost as good at this cooking thing as Uncle Lance.”

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