Page 72 of Bride of Fire
Morgan stood in all his naked glory.
Wet and dripping from his bath.
Gleaming from the light of a dozen candles.
Holding a babe that was squalling loud enough to summon the dead.
Her gaze involuntarily raced from the top of the man’s freshly washed head, down his perfectly sculpted body, to his sturdy bare feet, and back up again.
She’d seen plenty of nude men before. Spending as much time as she did in the armory ensured that. But this one took her breath away.
Before she could make a stammering fool of herself, she turned to secure the door behind her and catch her breath.
When she turned back, Morgan’s confused expression had grown to complete discomfiture.
Suddenly, despite her fascination with the Highlander’s godlike contours, she thought the spectacle before her might be the most hilarious and awkward thing she’d seen in a long time.
Morgan—completely naked, vulnerable, and alone—was holding Miles in his outstretched arms as if the babe were a feral, raging wildcat that he feared might deliver a lethal bite.
She clapped her hand over her twitching mouth, furrowing her brow and trying not to smile.
She was unsuccessful.
“Lass, will ye not…” he started, wincing every time Miles let out a particularly piercing scream. “Can’t ye… What the… Are ye goin’ to just stand there, or…”
If it weren’t for Miles’ distress, Jenefer would havelovedto have just stood there watching Morgan struggle with the infant and squirm in naked discomfort.
But she had a heart. And the sight of Morgan was doing strange, uncontrollable things to her. So she took mercy on the babe and his incredibly splendid father.
Sweeping past his oversized tub, she caught a whiff of woodruff—her favorite scent. She smiled in approval. Morgan must have sprinkled it in his bath, just as she always did.
Advancing, she plucked Miles from Morgan’s hands and settled him against her shoulder.
To her disappointment, Morgan immediately snatched up a linen square and tied it around his hips. Not so quickly that she didn’t catch a glimpse of his well-muscled buttocks. And not before she stole a last peek at the manly treasure nestled in his crop of dark hair.
“My thanks,” he mumbled, running an embarrassed hand through his wet locks. “Bethac said he was sleepin’. She said he’d be fine. And then she left and… She said she’d come back, but she hasn’t and…”
“Heisfine.” It was amusing how inept this brave, bold warrior was when it came to his son. She would have thought he’d know more about his own flesh and blood.
Perhaps he’d taken little interest in the babe since he’d lost Miles’ mother.
She thoughtfully pursed her lips. If that were so, Jenefer could use that to her advantage in her plans to seduce the Highlander.
She placed a tender kiss on Miles’ head. “He’s only wailing because he misses his dear Jen, don’t you, lad?”
Morgan sat on the edge of the bed. While she sauntered around the chamber, she felt him studying her, as if he meant to memorize her infant-soothing tactics.
She rubbed Miles’ back and murmured to him, loud enough for Morgan to hear. “Ah, don’t you fret, Miles. I’m here now. I’ll keep you safe and warm. And I vow I won’t trade you for a beastie.”
Miles let out a pathetic, shuddering cry.
“Oh, I know,” Jenefer told him. “I know you lost your ma. How hard it must be for you.” She gave Morgan a brief sidelong glance. “But I can be your ma for a wee while, can’t I? At least until the laird says I have to go.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Jenefer saw Morgan open his mouth to say something. But Miles interrupted with a wail.
“Ah, sweet wee child, I’ll miss you as well. But what are we to do?”
After a few more circles around the nursery, Miles’ cries diminished. His face relaxed, and his eyes drifted shut. Jenefer slowly and carefully lowered him back into his cradle, tucking the sheepskin in around him.
