Page 31 of Savage Redemption

I halt, turn around.

“May I?” He approaches me, his arms held out to take the baby.

“Really, there’s no need…”

“Please.”

I hand the squalling bundle over. “I’m sorry, she’s teething. Again.”

“Yeah, I guessed that three nights ago. And the next night, and yesterday.” He cradles her gently and murmurs something to her, his tone low and soothing.

“Oh no, has she been waking you up as well?” I’m horrified. “I do try to keep her quiet.”

“Well, don’t bother. We’re used to it, aren’t we, sweetheart?” He smiles broadly and coos to my fretting infant.

And, amazingly, Erin goes quiet. She gazes up at him, enthralled, mesmerised by his voice and the words she can’t understand but which seem to get through to her anyway. Her lips purse in a contemplative little ‘O’, and she watches his every move and expression.

“I don’t believe it. Can I bring her to you at four in the morning?” I blurt.

He laughs. “Cristina might object, but if you get desperate…”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean?—”

“You apologise a lot. There’s no need.”

“I’m sorry, I…” I drop into the closest seat. “There I go again. I’ll stop. Really, I will.”

He sits down next to me, still rocking Erin in his arms. “Babies aren’t easy. I spent hours walking the castle corridors with Sebastien.”

Ethan and Cristina have two boys, an older lad called Tomasz and their youngest, Sebastien, is just a toddler but with boundless energy. I can easily imagine him running his parents ragged so I guess I’m in the presence of vast experience.

“I usually find music quietens her,” I explain.

“Oh? What does she like?”

“Beethoven. And perhaps a bit of Mozart.”

His eyebrows lift. “Unusual choices. Very traditional. I prefer some of the more modern composers myself. Stravinsky, Bernstein, maybe a bit of Philip Glass.”

“Oh, I love Glass. HisGlassworksis fabulous, mostly intended for the piano, but it works on the violin.”

“Violin?

“Yes. I don’t play the piano. Eva does, though. She’s very good. Concert standard.”

“Really? I had no idea.”

“Oh, yes. She taught me the violin. That’s how she and my dad met, when she came to our house as my violin tutor.” I cut myself off. I’m babbling, to a dangerous crime lord of all things. He doesn’t want to hear my life story.

“There’s a grand piano in the library. Eva’s welcome to use it. Concert standard, did you say? She’s an impressive woman, your stepmother.”

“I know. I want to be like her.”

“You could do worse,” he agrees. “But you’re pretty impressive yourself.”

“Me? No, I’m just?—”

“A survivor. You had a horrific ordeal, but here you are. Still standing, bringing up your beautiful daughter. It took real courage to come here, especially after what happened to you.”

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