Gabriel held out his hands again. “Duchess, please,” he said. “Let me take her, even for five minutes. You can go change and collect yourself. You have done so much for her already, but you cannot go on if you do not take care of yourself, too.”
“But—”
“She will be fine with me for five minutes,” he assured her. “Besides, she is my stepdaughter. I ought to be more involved.”
Sibyl gave him a funny look, as though she doubted his motives.
Gabriel just gestured to the baby again. He could see how she struggled to hand over her daughter. Not from lack of trust—unlike in her first week here—but because she just couldn’t part with her while the baby was ill.
“You are a good mother,” he murmured, not sure if she needed to hear the affirmation in order to step out of the room for five minutes. “And she is in safe hands with me.”
Eventually, Sibyl slipped Rosie into his waiting arms.
Gabriel froze. Despite his assurances, he had underestimated the complexity of carrying a baby. He was certain he had held Letitia when she was a baby, but now he struggled to handle Rosie correctly.
It wasn’t that she was heavy, but more how her weight was distributed, and he couldn’t work out how to cradle her correctly.
“Heavens, you are hopeless.” Sibyl huffed a laugh. “Offering to do something, yet you do not know how to do it.”
“I know how,” he muttered defensively. “It has just… been a while.”
“If ever?”
He shot her a mock glare.
Sibyl gave him an amused look, and he found himself happy that she didn’t look so close to tears again.
“I will take her back,” she insisted, reaching out her hands, but Gabriel stepped away.
“No, no, let me figure it out.”
“She is not a puzzle.”
“And yet she confounds me like one.”
For a moment, their eyes held, and he found himself smiling, aware that she was too. He cast his mind back to when Letitia had been a baby.
Eventually, he realized how to crook his elbow just so for Rosie’s head to nestle in it. Her back was supported by his broad forearm and cushioned by his sleeve. He held her with both hands, making sure she was comfortable.
“How does it feel?” Sibyl asked, raising an eyebrow at him.
“It feels like I know why you have a backache,” he quipped.
“You… hone your body, yet you cannot hold a baby for a minute without complaining?” Her tone was teasing.
At that moment, he realized just how much he had wanted to hear it again.
Against all his instincts, Gabriel found himself chuckling. “Brandishing sparring swords, exercising, and boxing are rather different from carrying a squirming bundle.”
“Boxing?”
Gabriel paused, turning away from her. “From time to time. It is good for…”For chasing away thoughts of you.“It is good for me.”
“I see.”
He turned in time to see her frowning, as though the boxing displeased her. But then her eyes narrowed, as if she was now realizing why he sometimes came home with split knuckles and bruises. She had never asked about it, and he had never wanted to offer up an explanation.
“You have noticed my body is honed,” he teased, wanting to chase away her frown.
