Dunei - A Murtagh Love Story - Eldest Fan Fiction

Chapter 20 - Merry Christmas

Author’s Note: Merry Christmas! As a Christmas present to all my readers I’d like to give you something a little extra. I decided against giving you another chapter—mostly because I don’t have one prepared yet—and instead opted for creating a one-shot Murtagh and Lorena Christmas set in alternate universe. It’s something different that you may enjoy, but doesn’t have any impact on the Dunei – A Murtagh Love Story plot line. Plus I added a picture which you can find on your right.

Enjoy, and Merry Christmas!

   Christmas carols wafted through the house from the stereo in the living room. Lorena hummed along to Silent Night, as she gave a final goodnight kiss to the toddler in his cot. Her youngest child wrapped his arms around her neck before she could step away, and she complied to give him one more final kiss, then pulled herself free.

   A giggle came from the other side of the room and Lorena watched as Murtagh gave their second youngest a kiss goodnight, before they left the room together. Murtagh shut the door quietly and Lorena grinned up at him, this was the fun part.

   They crept up the hallway, past the three bedrooms that their horde of children all shared and into the master bedroom. Climbing onto the bed the pair laughed quietly, and hushed the other to be quiet. Once they found their footing they reached up and grabbed the boxes atop their wardrobe, then placed them carefully on the bed. When all six were down they sat and looked at the carefully wrapped presents. Each box ranged in occupied space. A couple appeared to be overflowing while a couple others barely reached half-full.

   “Teenagers are so hard to buy for,” Lorena complained as she poked through a box wrapped in blue paper, “everything we got is so little. And just look at this one.” She pointed at the overflowing box where everything was wrapped in silver paper.

   “You mean Santa got,” Murtagh corrected, “besides, we spent the same amount on each kid. We got him a hundred dollar iTunes card for Christ sake, he’d probably enjoy that more than any of the other kids would their presents.”

   “Perhaps. Do you think they’re asleep yet?”

   “Not yet… where are the labels?”

   Lorena cursed and jumped to her feet. She slipped through the tight space between the bed and the desk, then pulled out the drawers. Pens, staples, and even a pair of scissors went flying through the air before she found the labels. The pair spent the next half an hour wildly writing out the children’s names and sticking them on each present, despite the fact that they were colour coded.

   “They’re probably asleep by now.”

   Walking on the balls of their feet they slipped down the hallway, carrying the back-breaking boxes. The living room needed a fresh coat of paint and the lounge had seen better days, but the seven foot pine succeeded in drawing the attention of any occupants. Colour coded red and purple ornaments could be spotted strategically placed all around the tree, between the wrap of tinsel. Though Lorena had once been proud of her strict decoration she now found her favourite ornaments to be the handmade baubles and stars thrown around the branches in no particular pattern.

   They placed the boxes on the wooden floor panels before making another two trips, where they hushed each other whenever they made the floor creak. They pulled the presents from their boxes and placed them in piles under the tree, careful not to lay them over the tracks of the miniature train running around the base. Once done Lorena examined the piles, rearranging them when she wasn’t quite happy with how they were sitting. When satisfied she looked around for Murtagh and found him on the lounge sipping the cold Tooheys left on the coffee table.

   “Oi, that’s for Santa,” she complained with her hands on her hips.

   In response Murtagh raised an eyebrow.

   “Save me a sip.”

   She jumped on the lounge next to him and he passed over the beer. She took a swig, finding the liquid refreshing from the summer heat. With a broken air conditioner they had opted for opening all the windows, hoping for some reprieve, but it didn’t seem to work.

   As if reading her mind Murtagh stated, “We should just use a fan for a tree next year. Not as pretty but much more practical.”

   “It’s not that bad,” she claimed as she handed back the bottle, “I’m surprised to hear this from a man who once trudged me across a desert. Some holiday that was.”

   Murtagh grinned, a drop of drink or sweat gathering on his bottom lip. “If I remember correctly we had a lot of fun on that trip, despite the nasty burns.”

   “Yes,” she murmured, watching the drop on his lip, “I guess we did.”

   Unable to resist she ran her fingers along his jaw, feeling the scratch of stubble, turning his face before pressing her lips against his. It was moist, and she pulled away to quickly lick her lips. Bitter and salty, a mixture of both she decided before she was pulled back against him. Throwing a leg over his she found a better angle, and sighed as he stroked the arch of her back.

   Breaking the kiss she pressed her brow against his. “Are you hungry?”

   “Starving,” he exaggerated with a grin.

   Feeling behind her she grasped a goody from Santa’s plate.

   “Close your eyes.”

   He complied, sliding slowly shut and Lorena admired his long lashes, before pressing her goody against his lips. Opening his mouth he took a bite, causing coconut pieces to fall on his shirt. Chewing slowly—as if tasting fine cuisine—he guessed, “Lamington?”

   “Lamington finger to be exact.”

   “The best kind.” Murtagh pulled the cake from between her fingers and broke a piece loose. She watched him as he brushed it tantalisingly against her bottom lip, his stormy eyes gleaming. Closing her own she opened her mouth and bit down, savouring the sponge before licking coconut and chocolate off the callused fingers pressed against her lips. “You get more beautiful every day.”

   Lorena opened her eyes and smiled down at him. She trailed her fingers from his shoulder over his chest. “You know, it’s when you say things like that that reminds me why I love you.”

   “Oh, really?” he asked, brushing the hair from her face, “What about when I mow the lawn?”

   “You’re okay then.”

   “What about when I fix the dripping taps?”

   “I like you then.”

   “How about when I help make a baby?”

   “Six is enough,” she laughed and grasped his hands to keep him from acting naughty.

   “When I kill any bugs that get into the house?”

   “I really like you then.”

   “When I put you to bed after a night of drinking?”

   “That doesn’t happen too often,” she defended, then grinned, “but I’m fairly keen on you then.”

   “When I sit up all night with you after a nightmare?”

   She smiled, remembering how wonderful he was during one of her terrors. “I’m quite fond of you then.”

   “When I carried you over the threshold of this house after we married?”

   “I was infatuated.”

   A hand reached up and stroked along her cheek bone. “And the first time I told you I loved you?”

   “I realised that I loved you too.”