Pomegranate Seeds ➸ Alistair

iii

Alistair did not leave the Byron property, not entirely. He had traveled perhaps ten miles before the pull of his gift, which seemed to have honed on to the child as its sole object, grew too strong to ignore.

He lurked around the Byron property, unseen, simply watching. At night he would slip into the babe's nursery and watch the gentle rise and fall of her chest, and his instincts were sated knowing she was safe.

When she would rouse and begin to fuss, he would scoop her up and lay her against his chest. She would quiet then, content, and fall back asleep. He would hold her until morning, when he could hear her parents begin to stir from the room next. Only then would he return her to her crib and steal back out the window.

His own behavior troubled him, for he did not understand why he had became so suddenly and inexplicably protective of one inconsequential child. He told himself it was his duty, that he owed her family, but he was lying to himself.

He only left ten days later because he could sense Demetri growing close, no doubt curious about why he had stayed in one place so long.

Alistair did not return to the Byron family for some time. He returned to his nomadic lifestyle, and despite never having found issue with it before, he now felt malcontent. And while he couldn't precisely place why, he suspected it had everything to do with the eldest Byron child.

He decided, after seven years of this discontent, to revisit the Byron residence and settle his troubled instincts.

"Alistair, how nice it is to see you again." William greeted him cordially, surprise evident in his expression. The past seven years had been kind to the man; he had gain several pounds but at the age of thirty-two still retained his handsome appearance.

"I was in the area and hoped you would not object to a visit," Alistair said. He had travelled back here from the Asian continent but did not feel that William needed to know that.

"No, not at all! We've had another three children since you last arrived, all boys: Henry, David, and George. George just turned one," William said proudly.

"Congratulations. How's Eloise?" The question slipped out before Alistair could stop himself.

"She's fine, just fine. Prettiest little girl you'll ever meet, smart as anything, but would rather romp around outdoors than study her French."

"Horribly shy, poor thing," Mary said, walking into the room with a small boy on her hip. "Alistair, I heard you were visiting. It's so nice to see you."

"And you," Alistair said, no true sentiment behind his words. He cared very little for these humans, but he still held his debt to one of their ancestors, William's grandfather, and thus treated them civilly.

"I worry for Eloise, she's so reserved," Mary said after offering Alistair a kind smile. "She barely spoke two words to her governess for weeks after meeting her and is downright petrified of strangers."

"Why don't you send for her, Mary? It would do her well to get used to meeting new people," William said. "Besides, Alistair and Eloise have already met, remember when he held her seven years ago? She was calm as anything."

"If it wouldn't trouble you, Alistair, then I think that to be a splendid idea," Mary said.

"By all means," Alistair said, pleased that it had taken so little effort to meet once again with the child to whom his instincts were so attuned.

"Hold George, William, until I get back," Mary ordered, thrusting her youngest son into her husband's arms.

"Don't know how I've had four children and still can't properly hold them," William chuckled, carrying George awkwardly in his arms.