Page 95 of Bride of Fire
And if the king’s messengers didn’t bring bad news.
Jenefer was still mulling over the troubling details when Bethac returned Miles to the nursery. A kitchen lad followed with a tray of food, accompanied by two brawny men who emptied the bathwater into the chute of the garderobe and carried the tub out of the chamber. Bethac collected the candles that had been burned to stubs, and followed the men downstairs.
While Miles slept, Jenefer nibbled on the rim of an oatcake. But she was too distraught to eat much more.
Gazing down at the sweet child with the soft brows and pouting lips, her heart sank. A flood of melancholy washed over her. How would she go on without the wee babe?
She’d spent a pathetic amount of time over the past day, imagining her life as Morgan’s wife and Miles’ mother. She’d dreamed about the things they’d do together. Uniting their clans at the wedding. Drawing up plans for the castle modifications. Training warriors for tournaments. Teaching Miles how to read and write, to ride and fight. Making more babes until they had a dynasty of Scots champions.
Now she was paying for her foolish dreams.
Her throat ached from choking back an unexpected sob.
She couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing the babe wave his tiny fists again.
Never hearing him gurgle out words of his own making.
Never feeling him fall asleep in her arms.
Curse the gods. She hadn’t been this close to tears since the time she’d accidentally jammed an arrow point into the heel of her hand. What was wrong with her?
Miles started fussing. Soon he’d be weeping all the tears she could not. And that would do neither of them any good.
So she sniffed back her sorrow and picked him up, trying not to think about how accustomed she’d become to holding him, how perfectly he fit into the hollow of her shoulder.
Feiyan murmured, “You aren’t still thinking of stealing the babe, are you?”
“Maybe,” she lied.
“Shite, Jen,” Feiyan bit out. “You can’t do that, now that you know he’s Morgan’s heir. You’ll be branded an outlaw. Hunted as a fugitive.”
Jenefer knew all that. Miles had two capable parents now. She could no longer justify taking him. And her destiny was to be a laird of her own keep, not an exile.
Still, she couldn’t bear to accept that she was going to lose this battle.
Feiyan crossed her arms. “You can’t always have your way, Jen.”
She scowled at her chiding cousin. “I know.”
But was that all it was? Was she only upset because she was accustomed to getting her way?
All her life, she’d taken what she wanted.
As a tot, she’d stolen arrows out of her father’s quiver.
As a child, she’d proclaimed herself the owner of a newborn colt in the stables.
As a young lass, she’d secretly competed in an archery tournament.
And now she’d set her sights on Creagor.
Was she just vexed to be thwarted?
Whatever drove her, in this instance, she had to yield. She had to sacrifice personal victory for the sake of the child. The young lad’s fate was at stake. As much as it pained her, she had to wean herself away from Miles. Or Allison. Or whatever the hell his mother intended to call him. And the sooner, the better.
Feiyan said gently, “You’ll have babes of your own one day, Jen. I know it. And you’ll be the best mother ever.”
Jenefer gave her a fleeting smile. It was a kind thing to say. But at the moment, though she’d developed a new respect for babes, she couldn’t imagine letting a man near her again.
