Danger’s Promise
Page 31
“You’ve had practice, remember?”
She flicked him a patronizing look. “I don’t want to hear a thing out of you right now. You could never have survived what I just went through.”
He loved it when she scolded him. “Likely not,” he agreed, thrusting aside the nightmare of her twenty-four-hour labor.
“I am not doing it again,” she repeated. Her head lolled upon the snowy pillow.
He indulged her in all things, but he could not agree to this whim. Already he was looking forward to the day she healed, so they could resume their lovemaking. There was nothing in the world remotely like the passion that they shared.
He leaned over the suckling baby and dropped a gentle kiss on his wife’s lips, bruised from biting down on them while pushing. “Did I tell you that you’re beautiful today?”
She gave a snort of disbelief. “A bald-faced lie,” she retorted. Her lashes floated upward. “Will you bring Simon in?” she said. “I want him to meet his little sister.”
“In a moment.” He smoothed a flyaway curl from her cheek and watched her eyelids sink closed. His daughter sucked contently. “What will we name her?” he asked as the question suddenly occurred to him.
Clarise gave a sigh. “Rose,” she murmured.
The name was perfectly suited to the baby’s coloring. “Harold will be happy,” he added, thinking out loud.
Harold executed his duties as steward these days with newfound confidence. His marriage to Maeve had been quickly annulled, thanks to the efficiency of Ethelred, newly elected Abbot of Rievaulx. Harold still wandered in his speech and lacked an awareness of his surroundings, but he was loyal. And loyalty meant a lot in the household of a future baron.
As for Maeve, she had succumbed to a fate similar to that of her brother, the Abbot of Rievaulx. But instead of falling down a set of stairs, she had hung herself with her own hair, in the dungeon of Helmesly.
“Rose,” Christian whispered, shaking off the memories of the past. He caressed the back of his daughter’s head, then gave in to the urge to put his arms around both wife and baby. The midwife had traveled all the way from York to attend the birth. He wondered what she would think to see a mighty mercenary cry like a baby.
I’ve grown soft, he admitted, swallowing down a sob. He would never say it publicly, though his wife accused him often enough.
He had outgrown the unreasonable need to stir fear in strangers’ hearts. Now he used his sword for practice only and for protection. With Heathersgill and Glenmyre under his supervision, peace and prosperity cast their blankets over the land. And both seemed settled in for good.
He couldn’t help but reflect how much his life had changed since the fateful night he’d cut Simon from the belly of his dead first wife. The pivotal point had been when Clarise marched into his world and snatched his son from certain death.
As he sat basking in the bounty of their love, a shaft of sunlight warmed the disfigured half of his face. He believed beyond a doubt that Clarise had come to him as a reward for righteousness. The words from Ethelred’s book had come true!
“My sweet?” he whispered, leaning forward. He was filled with a need to share his gratitude.
“Mmmmm?” she grunted.
“Thank you,” he told her, pressing his lips to hers.
She cast him a feeble smile and kept her eyes shut. “You won’t be needing a nurse,” she remarked over the musical sound of their daughter sucking.
“Nay, but I may have to send Roger looking for a leman,” he replied with mock despair. “My own lady has decided to forsake the marriage bed.”
She was silent so long he thought she’d fallen asleep. “Try it, my love, and you will have a second scar to match the first one,” she muttered acerbically.
He threw back his head and laughed out loud. “You know I couldn’t bring myself to look at another,” he added, nuzzling her neck.
“I made you laugh,” she pointed out.
“Aye, you did.” It was their favorite game. One of so many private games they shared. To hell with the midwife, he thought, letting a tear of joy roll unchecked down his cheek.
He was not ashamed to admit that the Slayer of Helmesly had shucked the mantle of darkness.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue