Page 51 of Bride of Fire
Listening to his son cry.
And cry.
And cry.
He knew the maidservants were doing all they could.
He could hear the change in the bairn’s cries when Bethac jostled him or the wet nurse tried to give him suckle.
He could see the subtle shift of shadows leaking beneath the door as they passed back and forth in endless pacing.
He even heard a faint melody between the sobs as Bethac tried to lull the bairn to sleep.
They all knew what would stop the cries.
But Morgan had forbidden it.
At the time, it had seemed like the right idea. Jenefer was his captive, after all. He didn’t dare give her an opportunity to use the child as a hostage.
Besides, no matter how strenuously the wench proclaimed she was never leaving Creagor, she would eventually return to Rivenloch. Somehow, the maidservants were going to have to figure out how to calm the bairn without her.
In the light of day, his decision to wean the lad away from Jenefer had seemed practical.
But now, in the middle of the night—with his eyes gritty from sleeplessness and a painful pulsing in his temples—Morgan reconsidered.
As much as it irked him to yield to the demands of an infant and the whims of wenches, he knew it was foolish stubbornness on his own part to refuse the one thing that would solve the problem.
So with a sigh of defeat, he came to his feet and rapped softly on the bedchamber door.
It startled him how quickly it was snatched open. Peering through the crack was Jenefer, looking as lovely as ever, even with sleep-mussed hair and weary eyes. Had she been standing behind the door, waiting?
“Aye?” she asked.
He gave her a black look. She must know why he’d come. The bairn’s cries echoed down the hallway like the clang of cathedral bells.
“What can I do for you?” she asked, as if she were deaf to the noise.
He narrowed sleepy eyes at her. She was going to make him beg. He could see that now. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her to never mind, to go back to bed, to have a restful sleep.
But just then the bairn let out a particularly melancholy cry. Morgan couldn’t let his pride keep him from comforting the poor child, giving the maidservants a reprieve, and getting a good night’s rest himself.
So with a sigh of humility, he murmured, “If ye’d be so kind…”
“Aye?” She winced only slightly when the bairn started up with a piercing wail.
“To give a wee bit o’ comfort to Allison…”
“You mean Miles?” she inserted with a raised brow.
He bit back a retort. “I mean the bairn—whatever ye’re goin’ to call him—so we can all get some rest.”
She clearly didn’t intend to do his bidding so readily. “I thought ’twas forbidden.”
He was too tired to argue. Instead, he gave her a drowsy smile. “I un-forbid it.”
At that, she opened the door with a knowing smirk. “Then stand aside.”
Even acting smug and superior, Jenefer was one of the most beautiful lasses he’d ever seen. Her proud chin tipped upward, displaying lips as ripe and succulent as cherries. The firelight kissed her unbound curls and danced in her eyes. He retreated to let her pass, and he couldn’t help but breathe in her scent—the womanly, sweet, spicy fragrance all her own.
