Zevulun’s grin pulled a little higher – cheekier – up into his cheek at her retort. “I suppose,” he replied smoothly, unable to hide the humor from where it warmed his rich, deep tone. His attention drifted forward, his prancing gait smoothing out into a complacent walk matching her stride. Loftily, he continued. “It’s good for my pride to know you weren’t just using me because I reminded you of Tinuvel.” Shameless, he was. His blue eyes jumped quick back to her face – smile wide again – and then forward, playing at some feign of innocence.
Her attention had strayed understandably toward her son and Zevulun’s did too. He watched the colt as he explored ahead of them. “Is it a touchy subject if I ask who his father is?” His tone was light, but his eyes were searching as he looked toward her. He knew he wasn’t his, but he was curious if the father had any involvement in his life. Was Freya a part of the stallion’s herd? Was it wrong of Zevulun to be flirting with her now?
Eh… that wouldn’t really stop him if he was being honest.
“I know he isn’t mine,” he continued softly, though he wasn’t sure if he even needed to reassure her he wasn’t going to be upset to learn he wasn’t. His eyes met hers and he offered a smaller smile… a gentler, kind one. “I’d be pretty proud if he was.”
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