Page 28 of Bride of Fire
To his surprise, the infant stared back at her, as if he were listening.
“There’s a roof o’er your head,” she pointed out, “and you’re bundled against the cold.”
Relief came gradually as Morgan realized Jenefer meant the bairn no harm. Soon, to everyone’s astonishment, as the lass continued speaking to him in words an infant couldn’t possibly understand, the lad’s whimpers softened.
Morgan glanced at Bethac, who looked just as puzzled as he. But as he continued listening, he realized, despite Jenefer’s sweet and tender tones, her words were as sharp as Spanish steel. The wicked firebrand was speaking ill of him…to his own son.
“Never mind that nasty brute’s bellowing,” she confided to the bairn. “He’s a horse’s arse who thinks shouting makes a man of him.”
“What?” Morgan demanded, almost certain he heard Bethac choke back a laugh.
The bairn had quieted now and was focusing intently on Jenefer as she clucked her tongue. “’Tis what comes when you’re raised by barbarians and dunderheaded fools.”
“What the—”
“There,” she said with a nod of satisfaction as the bairn studied her. “All you needed was a kind word from a good Lowland lass, wasn’t it? You come home with me, and I’ll see you get the care you deser—”
“Nay!” Morgan shouted, suddenly possessed of a strange possessiveness.
The bairn fussed at Morgan’s outburst, then quickly settled back down in Jenefer’s hands.
“Why shouldyoucare?” Jenefer asked, giving him a black look. “You Highlanders clearly don’t mind letting babes wail at all hours of the night.”
Bethac gasped.
“That’s absurd,” Morgan said in his defense, angry that he felt he had to defend himself. “I came in to send them downstairs.”
“Oh aye,” she sneered, “send them away so the noise won’t disturb your precious sleep. But the babe is clearly upset. Didn’t you wonder why? Maybe it’s swaddled too tightly. Or hungry. Or soiled. Or maybe,” she added cagily, “it doesn’t like being in a castle where it doesn’t belong.”
“Enough!” Morgan erupted, then glanced at Bethac. “Take him back.”
Bethac stepped forward. Jenefer shrugged and passed the bairn into the older woman’s arms. In the next instant, the whimpering resumed.
Morgan scowled at Bethac. “Can ye not keep the bairn quiet?”
Bethac tried jostling him, stroking his back, and even holding him out in front of her as Jenefer had, to no avail.
She passed him to the wet nurse, who tried once again to offer him her breast. The bairn’s cries only grew in strength and volume, making the nurse more and more distressed.
“Oh, for the love of Freya. Give him to me,” Jenefer said in disgust, holding out her hands.
The nurse looked up at Morgan with uncertainty.
Morgan fumed. It was aggravating to give the cocky Lowland lass the satisfaction of being right. And it was foolhardy to put his heir into the hands of the enemy.
Still, what choice did he have? He couldn’t even hear himself think over the wailing. Besides, if she attempted some foul deed, he could snatch up the fireplace poker in the blink of an eye and do her significant harm.
“Fine,” he decided.
To his chagrin, once Jenefer cradled the bairn in one arm against her waist, he silenced.
“He seems to like ye, Miss,” the nurse ventured.
Jenefer frowned down at the bairn, as if she doubted the lad’s good judgment.
Morgandoubted the lad’s good judgment. The lass might have calmed the bairn, but she was clearly a bad sort. How the hell had she escaped his room? And how had she ended up on the ledge?
“How came ye to this chamber?” he growled.
