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    Summary

    Catherine said, "Jane told me that she'd mentioned it to you, though it was when you and Temeraire had first come to Loch Laggan. More than a decade ago, good heavens."

    "Mentioned what to me?" Laurence asked, still vaguely concerned about the flush on Harcourt's cheeks.

    "Well. About you... that is, us, to secure future companions for Lily and Temeraire..." Harcourt wouldn't meet his eyes, stammering uncharacteristically. "Not to say that it would only be an obligation, of course! You truly are a dear friend, Laurence, and I'd trust you with this more than anyone. You and Mr. Tharkay both, since I know there could never be one involved and not the other..."

    Laurence felt an odd prickle upon the back of his neck, the beginnings of a suspicion-- ungentlemanly to even consider-- and found himself asking, voice gone a bit rough. "Harcourt-- Catherine. Please, I beg you speak freely, for I am always at your service. What is it you would ask of me?"

    Harcourt's green eyes were wide, and Laurence had never noticed just how many flecks of gold they contained. She held his gaze and the prickling sensation, like ghostly fingertips, intensified.

    "I'd ask you for a baby, Will."

    Language:
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