Page 120 of Bride of Fire
Jenefer dragged the archery target out of the way and gathered up her bow and quiver with haste. But by the time she raced up the stairs and burst into the nursery, her worst fears were confirmed.
“Miles?” she asked Bethac.
Bethac nodded toward Morgan’s bedchamber.
“Shite.”
Jenefer closed the door behind her and set her weapons against the nursery wall. She’d hoped to arrive before that viper of a woman could get her wretched hands on the babe. But Miles was already in her clutches.
Grimacing in frustration, she ran a restless hand through her hair.
“I’m sure the bairn’s safe enough,” Bethac said. “He’s with his da. And once Miles starts fussin’, she’ll likely send him away.”
Jenefer hoped Bethac was right. She began pacing, chewing on her thumbnail, obsessing over what could go wrong.
She’d faced villains before. Some were mean and brutal and some devilishly clever. Some were full of vengeful spite, others irreparably broken.
But she’d seen none quite as cold-blooded as Lady Alicia.
The woman’s eyes were flat and unfeeling. Her smile was forced and cool. It was as if she wore a mask over an empty shell.
The worst part was that Morgan seemed blind to it.
He was obsessed with the idea that his dead wife had miraculously returned from the grave. He thought he’d been given a second chance. He thought he could repair what had been done to his poor, innocent, damaged Alicia.
Any narrative that challenged his version of events was unwelcome.
And that willful ignorance washisfatal flaw.
Through the wall, Jenefer heard Miles’ faint wail. She halted in her tracks, listening.
The babe continued to cry for a long while. Finally Jenefer turned to Bethac in askance. “Should I go and…?”
Bethac shook her head. “After that interrogation ye gave Lady Alicia? Nay, lass, ye’re the last person she wants to see. And ye’ll only vex the laird. Besides, Morgan can calm the lad when he has a mind to.”
Jenefer suspected as much, despite the persistent myth that onlyshecould soothe the lad. Morgan was the babe’s father, after all.
As for her interrogating Lady Alicia,someonehad to challenge the woman’s improbable story. Even if Morgan was too stubborn to hear it.
Eventually, Miles’ crying diminished. Soon afterward, she heard the bedchamber door close and footfalls in the passageway. Morgan was returning to the nursery.
Jenefer braced herself. She intended to confront him with the truth. Give him a piece of her mind. And force him to listen.
But when Bethac opened the door under his soft knock, Morgan looked crestfallen. His shoulders sagged. The light in his eyes was dimmed by sorrow. And all of Jenefer’s bullish intentions fell by the wayside.
Bethac took the babe from him, patting Morgan on the arm. “’Twill take time, m’laird. To Mi-, Allison…she’s a stranger.” She added, “And not all mothers take to motherhood naturally.”
He looked up once at Jenefer. A tiny, troubled crease formed between his brows. But he said nothing.
“Go on back now,” Bethac said. “I’ll take care o’ the lad.”
After he left, Jenefer took it upon herself to inspect every inch of the babe, to be sure the wicked wench hadn’t pinched him or scratched him or done him any harm.
She was only slightly less worried about Morgan. He might be a mighty Highland warrior. But she saw now that his heart was as soft as clay. Easy to bruise. And easy to break.
As the afternoon hours dragged on toward evening, Jenefer grew more restless. She bit her thumbnail down to the quick. She returned again and again to the window, troubled by how quickly the sky darkened. She only picked at the generous platter of food Feiyan offered her.
Later, as she watched the moon slip between wisps of cloud, she couldn’t decide what troubled her more. The thought that Alicia might plot to kill Morgan. Or that she might plot to kiss him.
