Page 123 of The Saxon Lord's Unwanted Bride

“Aye,” she replied, “but first, you must meet your son. Elfine, bring him here.”

The midwife drew near.

“Take him,” the midwife said. “He’s lusty and strong.”

Uncertain of what to do, he shook his head, but she dropped the babe into his arms. The creature squawked in protest at his father’s clumsy administrations and Harald looked up in alarm—from the midwife, to Eloise, and back again.

The midwife gave a snort. “His father was just as weak-bellied—terrified of holding both him, and his brother, for fear they’d crumble at his touch.”

“Hush, Elfine!” Eloise chided, but her eyes twinkled with mirth.

Sweet heaven—they were laughing at him! He looked at the child in his arms, the small creature that had been the source of so much pain to his beloved wife.

But great happiness, also. Her face glowed with joy.

The babe opened his eyes, and Harald placed a kiss on his forehead.

“My son.”

He raised his eyes to Eloise, praying that she would approve of the name he had chosen.

“Alain,” he said. “Alain Henri of Wildstorm.”

Eloise nodded, her eyes moistening, and she reached out to him. He handed the child to her and brushed his lips against hers.

“Come, Eloise, let me take you to the garden.”

“My lord, no!” the midwife cried. “Your wife’s just given birth! Would you make her ill?”

“Elfine, I need the air and light,” Eloise said. “Too long have I been in this chamber.”

She still suffered from being confined inside too long. The memories of her ordeal at Beauvisage’s hands had left a faint imprint on her mind—pale shadows which occasionally visited her at night.

She no longer shrank from Harald’s touch, but sometimes he saw her mind return to the darkness, her body tensing in the company of others. She might never be entirely whole again, yet she loved and trusted him, and he would devote the rest of his life to her.

He wrapped her in a fur and lifted her into his arms—ever surprised at how slight she was—before carrying her outside, their newborn son in her arms.

Slivers of light stretched across the sky, heralding the start of a new day. The dew underfoot soaked Harald’s boots which formed a trail in the grass. He sat on a bench and she rested her head on his shoulder with a sigh of contentment.

Together they watched the sky grow lighter, pale streaks of gray bleeding into the dark blue. The birds, roused from sleep, began to sing, as if to celebrate the new life which had entered the world.

“Do you remember, Eloise, when I first saw you, at this very spot?”

“Aye.” She nodded against his chest.

“I thank the Almighty for bringing you to me, Eloise,” he said. “Your father hoped I would heal you—but it was you who healed me. You taught me how to love.”

“As did you.”

She tipped her face up for a kiss and he willingly obliged.

“Mama! Papa!” Violette’s excited voice floated across the garden.

“Come, my dearest wife,” Harald said, “our daughter is anxious to meet her brother.”

He lifted her into his arms and returned inside—to Wildstorm, his beloved home. It was a home he believed he’d sacrificed himself to keep, but, only now did he value it—with his wife and newborn son in his arms, and his daughter waiting to greet them inside.

THE END