“Nonsense,” she snapped too quickly, but her cheeks flushed pink as she fidgeted with her skirt. “I-I am going to change.”
Gabriel only nodded, gazing down at the baby in his arms. She had her mother’s eyes, and he found himself smiling even as Rosie whimpered, her face red and feverish. He looked around,finding a compress that had gone warm. Still, he used it to gently wipe away the sheen of sweat on her forehead.
Rosie cried harder the moment he lifted his hand, as if knowing Sibyl had left the room. Gabriel rocked her gently, not wanting Sibyl to get worried. Alas, she would not stop crying.
An idea came to him.
He began to sing under his breath.
He had not sung in so long, but how could he not try now? Sibyl needed a moment of rest—longer if he had any say in it—and he needed Rosie to fall asleep to begin healing from the fever.
His voice was low, deep, and as he remembered the lyrics he had once forgotten, he realized Rosie’s cries were subsiding. He continued singing the lullaby, stroking her cheek with his forefinger while still holding her securely.
Rocking back and forth, he sang her to sleep, only lowering his voice further when she stopped squirming and went limp.
Behind him, a soft gasp sounded. Gabriel turned slowly to find his wife standing in the doorway, wearing a fresh blue gown.
“You lulled her to sleep,” she whispered, awe-struck.
She padded over to his side and stroked Rosie’s forehead. The baby didn’t even stir.
“My mother used to sing me lullabies,” Gabriel whispered back. “I always struggled with the transition from my nursery to my childhood bedroom, and she always heard me pacing and muttering to myself. Whenever that happened, or I was sick, she would sing to me. We would sit on the windowsill, and she would hold me or cool my head with a compress.
“She once told me she used to compose her own melodies and often used that discarded interest as material for her lullabies. I did not think I could recall them until now. My voice is?—”
“Perfect,” Sibyl cut in.
Gabriel’s eyes widened in surprise. “Perfect?”
“Your voice is perfect,” she affirmed. “You have a very gentle timbre. I… I very much would like to hear more of it.”
She was still gazing at him in wonder. Whether it was due to getting Rosie to sleep or whether it was because he had unexpectedly offered her a piece of his past, he didn’t know. But he moved closer to her, careful not to jostle Rosie.
He had spent so long restraining himself from making another advance on her. He had tried to punch the desire out of himself, tried to get beaten in matches, but nothing could take it away.
“Then why don’t you simply admit that you have developed feelings for your wife?”
Nicholas’s question rang in his mind as he leaned in, waiting for Sibyl to move away, but she didn’t. His eyes dropped to her mouth, and he closed the distance further.
“Sibyl,” he whispered.
Her breath caught.
“You may call me Gabriel,” he added softly. “It would… It would please me greatly if you did.”
“All right,” she answered, her voice equally soft. “Gabriel.”
He shivered at the sound of his name on her lips.
He was a moment away from pressing his mouth against hers when Rosie stirred in his arms. He froze, pulling away to look down at the sleeping baby, but she didn’t wake up.
Still, he did not lean back in.
“Get some rest, Sibyl,” he said quietly. “I will tuck Rosie in her cot.”
Sibyl hesitated, and he suppressed a bemused smile at the fact that, even after everything he had proved to be competent at, she still hesitated to leave her daughter with him.
“You must rest,” he insisted. “Do not make me force you to bed, too.”
