Chapter Five
Noise engulfed her. Laughter. The low hum of conversation. The clacks and bangs as servants set the room for the feast. The Yule log was just beginning to burn, so while the room smelled wonderful, it was cold.
Fingers squeezed her upper arm.
“My son,” Wal reminded her.
Anxiety, love, and pride suddenly bubbled in her. From the moment of his birth, the passions had simmered within her heart. When she first realized she would bear a child, she’d been scared of dying in childbirth, as so many women did. One day he’d kicked against her ribs, though, and from that moment until this, her worries existed only for him. Every time Joscelin stilled or grew quiet, terror would weigh her limbs and sink her heart. But each time he kicked, and even now when he cried for her in the dark of night, warmth filled her heart. She would stare at him for hours, it seemed, despite the warnings of others not to get attached to an infant. But her son was strong. His patch of reddish hair reminded her of Wal, and whatever else her husband might be, Wal was hale. Jos would be, too.
“This way.” She walked toward the stairs that led to her chamber. Wal followed and laughter rose around her.
“Knew Wal would be an attentive husband!” someone shouted. Heat scorched her cheeks.
“Ignore them,” he said from behind her.
She ignored him.
The uppermost chamber had changed most in the last year. Wooden shutters, thick tapestries, and two braziers kept back the cold and damp wind. Shelves placed around the room held oil lamps that bathed the room in soft light, no matter the time of day. The young girl assigned to Joscelin jumped to her feet when she entered.
“He is sleeping, my la—” Her eyes widened as Wal stepped into the room. “Do you need aid, my lady?”
“If she did, you just made it impossible for you to render it,” Wal said. “If you suspect something is amiss, act as if naught is wrong, then seek aid from the guards when you are beyond my sight.”
The girl goggled at them.
“All is well, Agata. This is my husband.”
“My lord.” The girl bowed and bobbed at the same time. She glanced back at the cradle. “He will want to eat as soon as you wake him.”
She nodded and motioned for the girl to go, which she did. At a run.
“That is his nurse?”
“Nay. I suckle him.”
“You?”
“There were no acceptable wet nurses on the island. Come,” she said, but Wal was already at the crib, oblivious to all else in the room. He stared into the cradle, his stillness sending shivers over her skin. One thing she’d learned about her husband in the weeks before his departure last year was that restlessness defined him. He slept little, and sat less, but now, he stared at the swaddled child as if made from stone except for the smile softening his features. Tears stung her eyes. Almost, she could consider his betrayal as a fair price for her son.
“Are his bindings too tight?” he whispered. “Does it not trouble his breathing?”
She would have laughed if she had not wondered the same when the midwife brought him to her, swathed in linen. “He is well. Sometimes I think he actually sleeps longer when the garment is tight.”
“He is so small.”
“Trust me, he felt larger when he was born.”
Wal glanced at her, then laughed, a loud, rolling sound that echoed around the room. Jos jerked in his sleep. The big man cringed like a child caught pilfering honeyed cakes.
“’Tis all right. He usually wakes about this time.” She reached into the cradle and lifted her son. He was a warm, welcome weight in her arms. She cuddled him until she felt Wal’s gaze on her like a slant of sunshine.
“Do you want to hold him?”
Her husband stepped back as if horrified.
“He does not bite,” she said with a laugh. “No teeth.”
“He is so small.” Cautiously, Wal cupped the baby’s head, his palm and fingers large enough to crush the delicate bones of his skull. Cate bit her lip as her hearted pounded wildly in her chest. Wal would never reject Jos. She could see that in his face, so why was fear a part of this moment?
He removed the cap, and then grimaced at the patch of red hair. “Ah, poor mite. He should have gotten your dark hair.”
“It will darken as he gets older. Take him before he realizes he is hungry.”
His sharp glance held a dozen questions, but he held them back as she offered up her son.
“Is he hale?”
“Aye.”
“I…” Exhaling, Wal slid his hand beneath hers, then lifted the baby and brought him against his chest. She winced. Wal’s leather jerkin was probably as dirty as the stable floor, but it was too late, now. Joscelin turned his heard toward the low rumble of words from his father and almost smiled. “Thank you.”
“For what?“
“I did not do this.” He met her gaze. “I played a small part, but you brought him life and made this chamber warm and safe, and…” He looked back at his son. “We did not start well.”
Jos made a small noise, and she stepped toward him, but Wal cuddled him closer and whispered to sooth him. Her insides clenched and a heavy want surged through. Many women thought a man looked his best when ready for battle, but they were so wrong. A man holding a baby could stroll past all her defenses, and maybe Wal just had. Anxiety, love, and pride shifted places within her chest. She glanced at the gift he’d handed her. The cross was heavy even though it fit into the palm of her hand. Made of gold, a blue gem anchored each tip of the cross. A red stone held the center. It was a gift worthy of a queen…or a beloved wife.
“We…I broke my word to you,” he said. “I have wondered many nights over this past year if I should have challenged your uncle more or waited longer to consummate the marriage. I wanted to protect you.”
He waited until she looked up. Even in the bright torch light, his eyes were a dark blue that reminded her of the bright slivers of sky overhead just before the last ray of sunlight disappeared.
“I realize now I would do it again. I will take care of you as no one else can, Cate. I will keep him safe. I will keep you safe, but I would have more. I would have a wife who is also a lover.”
Everything in the room stilled except for the soft smacking noises Jos made as he suckled in his sleep. She ran the back of her finger over his soft round cheek, and he turned toward her. If he were not here, the empty place in her heart would ache and she would never know who was missing. Please God, she thought, although she had no idea why she prayed or for what she asked.
Her vows had been coerced; the consummation of their marriage had not. Wal was as competent in bed as he was on the training fields. Heat rushed to her cheeks at memory of the pleasure Wal wrung from her in this chamber.
Laughter tripped up the steps, and the baby squirmed.
“Cate?”
“We have guests,” she said, “and he will be hungry when he wakes and—”
“He’s…” Wal shifted the baby, holding him away from his clothes. “Pissing.”
The humor in Wal’s voice made her forget the grime on his jerkin, the wet stain spreading through Joscelin’s wraps and the sudden stench that filled the room.
“And more,” he added with a laugh.
“I will think about what you said.” She gathered Joscelin close, although Wal was reluctant to give him up. “You broke your word. True, it was hastily given, and Uncle Robert would have been relentless. The world does not blame you for doing so, and perhaps God does not either, but I…” On an exhale, she stepped back.
“I would have affection between us,” he said.
“You still betrayed me. I cannot give you love.”