“Aye, of course.” Recalling how she had been standing when he had last seen her, he leapt to his feet. “She should be resting.”
“Women are stronger than they look, my friend. They need not be cosseted as much as we might think—even when with child.”
“Mayhap.” Thayer was not sure he agreed as he headed out of the room. “I must find out more.”
“Is all settled between you and Gytha then?” Roger asked just before the door shut behind Thayer.
“Aye. ’Tis as it was. Good sleep to you, Roger. Names,” he muttered as he shut the door and hurried back to his own chambers. “I must think of some names.”
Meeting Thayer’s abrupt entrance with a little smile, Gytha sipped her wine as she watched him pace the room muttering to himself. She had envisioned some tender scene when she told him of the coming child. His distracted excitement had pleased her as much. Now she wondered if she had misread that distraction. A strong dismay could have stirred an equal distraction. He certainly did not look happy at the moment.
“You find the news upsetting?” she was finally prompted to ask.
“Upsetting?” He whirled to stare at her. “Nay, nay, of course not. You should be sitting.” He scooped her up in his arms then moved to sit on the bed.
Smiling with relief and pleasure, she murmured, “I am quite hale and strong, Thayer. Why, even the sickness fades.”
“Sickness?” He stared at her in horror. “You were sick?”
She kissed his cheek. “In the beginning every woman suffers a nausea. It passes. Mine has and it was only slight.”
“Ah, of course. I am not thinking clearly. But you feel well now?”
“Very well. You need not cosset me.”
“T’will be hard to resist. Can you feel our child?” he whispered, gently placing his hand upon her stomach.
“Only a little. I doubt you will be able to feel the child yet. ’Tis but a quickening.”
“Where do you mean to go?” he asked when she started to get up.
“To set my goblet aside. I have finished my wine.
Setting her on the bed, he took the goblet from her. “I will do it. You are to lie down.”
She barely had the chance to slip beneath the covers before he was there, tucking her in. When he eased into bed then, ever so gently tucking her up against him, Gytha began to get a very uneasy feeling about how the next five months could go. It was increasingly apparent, as the moments crept by and he did not move, that abstinence was one way he meant to cosset her. She frantically tried to think of a way to rid him of the notion.
Thayer glanced down at her and asked, “How do you feel about this child?”
“Delighted, though that seems a pallid word. I was only sure of it today. Edna confirmed what I had begun to suspect.”
“A father.” He laughed softly. “By God, ’tis hard to believe, yet ’tis wondrous.”
“You are a father already. Bek is your son.”
Smoothing his hand over her hair, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You worry that I will turn from him. You need not. He is my son. I can never forget that, never wish to forget it.
“This is different. Bek’s mother brought me more misery than pleasure. She would have rid her body of him. She tried to murder him when he had barely savored his first breath. I knew nothing of his growth in her womb or of his birth. This child is one I will share in. I will not be tossed the babe and told to do as I like by a woman who could spit poison even on her birthing bed.
“I love Bek. He knows that. He knows I will do all I can to ensure that he has some future, some fortune. So too will I claim him as my son to all and any. Aye, as I have done. He knows he can never inherit from me. Though young, he fully understands all that can weigh against a bastard. He has seen that few are openly recognized even by the man who seeded them. Knowing all the bad of it, he sees how good it is for him. The only bitterness he may ever feel might be towards his mother. Yet, I think that already wanes. You ease that by caring for him.”
“I would like to think some affection has grown up between us.”
“Oh, aye, it has. He has never left my side. Not once since the day his mother handed him to me.”
“Yet, he left with me,” Gytha whispered, suddenly realizing what that meant.
“Aye, he did and never once asked me if he could. ’Tis good. I did my best not to sour his mind against his mother, yet I did want him to know what she was, not to think of her too well, for he would be hurt. That he has taken so firmly to you shows me he does not cling to her.”
