Okay, this is it!  I’m pretty sure I’m done Sons of Alba, Book 2: Son of Redemption.  So here’s one last excerpt for your reading enjoyment before I get started on book 3.

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The house was snug, its fire roaring merrily on the new hearth, as the winter wind howled at being barred outside.  In a bed of bracken and pelts and wool blankets, Fionnaghal slept.  Her dark curly hair and pale brow still glistened from her ordeal.  A dreaming smile graced her full lips.  
Seumas sat by the fire, their son in his arms, watching her sleep.  The boy was heartrendingly tiny – though Mamaidh had assured him he was as strong and healthy a baby as had ever been born.
He played with the lad’s twig-thin fingers, with his downy hair, cupping the dome of his warm little head, dabbing the nub of his nose with a gentle fingertip.  
Anndrais was his name, for Seannathair.  Anndrais Domhnall, for the great-uncle who’d saved his father before his first breath.  Such a tiny thing to bear such names.  But he would grow into them, even as Seumas had grown into manhood.
Thinking of his own trouble becoming a man, he prayed, A Dhia, please keep him from making my mistakes.  End this circle of foolishness.  
Seumas was not naive enough to suppose wee Anndrais would be perfect.  Of course the lad would make mistakes, despite every effort to shield him.  But only let them be small mistakes, mistakes without hurt.
And yet, Seumas could not regret the hurt in his life.  It was the pain that shaped him, that allowed him to become the man he was.  
Well, then – help him to endure the hurt.  To learn.  Redeem him, a Dhia, as you’ve redeemed me.
He gazed down on the dazzling beauty of his son.  The son of his redemption.

 

As always, please feel free to give me your honest feedback – your critique can only make this better.  🙂

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