Page 42 of Wolf's Keep

“I will leave you women to talk.” Gaharet stepped back, letting the curtain drop.

“He’s beautiful.” Erin leaned forward, peering at the tiny, pink face. She brushed her finger across the baby’s check. “Have you thought of a name yet?”

“Georges, after Henri’s father.”

“Oh, that’s lovely. Now, how are you really feeling?”

Eleonore smiled. “According to Anne, my labor was quick. Once he decided to be born, Georges was eager to get out into the world.”

“I bet it didn’t feel so quick for you?” Erin grinned, and Eleonore shook her head.

“No, it did not.” She looked down at her son, her face full of adoration. “But I have Georges, and that makes it worth every moment. Could you hold him for a moment?” Eleonore handed the baby to her.

Erin cuddled Georges close against her chest. He fussed a little then settled.

“Take him into the main room. I will freshen up and I will join you.”

“Don’t fuss on my account, Eleonore. You’ve just given birth to a baby. Lie in bed and relax. I doubt you’ll get much of a chance over the next couple of months, so take this opportunity.”

“Mon Seigneur Gaharet is here. I cannot lie in bed while he sits at our table.”

Erin scowled. “He can’t expect a new mother to get out of bed all because he stops by for a visit.”

The poor woman had been in labor not twenty-four hours ago. No happy gas, no epidural, just the help of midwives, hot water, prayers and a primal urge to push. She’d like to see him go through that and be happy to get out of bed for guests the next day.

“I’ll talk to him if you like. Tell him you need your rest.”

Eleonore’s gaze darted to voices of the men muffled beyond the curtain. “No, Mademoiselle Erin,” she hissed, with a vigorous shake of her head. “Please do not do that. Monsieur Gaharet has been so good to us.”

Erin sighed. “Well, all right then. I don’t agree that it’s necessary, but if you feel you have to…”

Eleonore touched her arm. “Mademoiselle Erin, you do not understand.” Her soft voice, almost a whisper, forced Erin to lean closer to hear. “I have no family, only Henri. We had arranged for Anne and a few other women to come and help me a little as soon as the baby was born. But Seigneur Gaharet insisted Henri take a week from his work in the stables so he can be with me and the baby. Family, he told us, is the most important thing, and Henri should be here for the first week with our baby.”

“Oh. That’s…very kind.” And highly unusual.

“Yes. Edith, my friend from the village, married a man from the Vautour estate and her husband could take only a day away from work, the day of the birthing. When I first met Henri, he told me how wonderful Seigneur Gaharet was, how well he treated his people, like family. I confess I did not imagine he would be any different from any other Seigneur, but Henri was right. Itisdifferent living here on the d’Louncrais estate. It is not Seigneur Gaharet demanding my presence, Mademoiselle Erin, but I who wish to do this for him.”

Erin didn’t quite know what to say. “Right. I’ll give you privacy to freshen up.” Erin edged off the cot and slipped past the curtain with baby Georges in her arms.

Gaharet and Henri ceased talking and turned in her direction.

“Eleonore will be out in a moment.”

She glanced in Gaharet’s direction as she took a seat beside him at the table. He stared back at her, an unfathomable look in his eyes. Had he heard their whispered conversation? She turned her attention to baby Georges, who gave a big yawn, his eyes popping open. “Oh, look. He’s awake. Congratulations Henri. You have a beautiful baby boy.”

Henri grinned from ear to ear. “I have a son.” A look of bewildered happiness crossed his face.

“Anne has ensured you have all the supplies you need, Henri?” asked Gaharet.

“Yes, Mon Seigneur. Thank you.” He stood, retrieved the boiling pot from over the fire, and filled a mug with its contents. “She brought many things on her last visit, including the leaves for this brew for Eleonore.” He made a face. “It is raspberry leaves. Anne says it is good for new mothers.” Henri shrugged. He placed three more mugs on the table. “Mead for us,” he explained, filling the mugs from another jug. “That tea may be good for Eleonore, but it tastes horrible.”

Gaharet chuckled, handing a mug of mead to Erin and taking one himself. “Anne’s brews often do, but in my experience, they always work.”

“Even if it does nothing, I am not about to cross Anne.” Henri shuddered.

“Wise choice, Henri,” said Gaharet.

“Look at these two grown men, Georges.” Erin smiled down at baby Georges, tickling his chin. “Afraid of a little old woman. You’ll need to grow up braver than these two.”

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