And his face…his face glowed like the sun when he looked up after he spoke the oath. Her heart, weary and tired, drew strength from that calm. He felt…safe, not like a warrior, all sharp of eye and blade. His light blue eyes were warm; they crinkled in the corners when he smiled. One of his front teeth had a slight crook to it, which made him all the more fetching. In the warmth of the kitchen, in the quiet darkness, something eased in her chest.
Then Lara gave a soft cry and all of Amari’s worries came crashing back.
“Is she well?” Orval looked at the babe in his arms with terror.
Amari started to struggle out of her cloak. “She needs to nurse,” she said shortly. Her fear rose again, that the poor, motherless child would not take her nipple, would not suck, would not— “Unwrap her, please. She might needs a change.”
“Oh, uh,” the poor man seemed perplexed by the bundle in his arms.
“Here,” the marcus took pity. “I’ll do it. Take the boy.”
Orval took Dalan in his arms as the marcus unwrapped Lara on the table. The room had warmed considerably once the oven door had been opened. She’d be warm enough.
The marcus moved quickly, unwrapping the swaddling. With the babe exposed, he froze for a moment, staring down.
“Is it bad?” Orval asked, balancing Dalan as he averted his gaze and wrinkled his nose.
Amari stifled her smile at his apprehension.
“No, no,” the marcus said. “She’s good,” He quickly changed the cloths, stuffing the old one away in a pocket.
Lara lay quiet, her lips moving, which was a good sign. To Amari’s relief, the birth cord looked healthy, with no signs of irritation or infection. She bared her breasts.
“Ah,” Orval looked away, his cheeks turning slightly pink. He dug out kitchen rags, handing them to both of them.
Amari took some warm water from the kettle and a cloth and wiped her nipple. The marcus handed her the newborn and Amari offered a soft prayer as she positioned the child at her breast. “Please,” she whispered softly as she tickled Lara’s lower lip with her nipple.
She needn’t have worried. Lara opened her mouth, latched on like a leech, and started to suck greedily. Amari sagged in relief at the strong, healthy tug at her nipple.
Orval still had his eyes averted, but the marcus was staring at Lara. He lifted his eyes and Amari gave him a nod. He returned it.
“Tea,” Orval cleared his throat. “You will want something warm, both of you. There’s pease porridge in there as well, warm and filing, if a bit bland.”
“A bit?” the marcus said with a sly smile, then shook his head. “I can’t stay, Orval. I need to—”.
“I’ve a pot in the hearth,” Orval gave him a glare. “You will eat and—”
“Dalan will need seeing to, then I can feed him as well.” Amari interrupted gently.
“Two at once?” Orval glanced at her and then quickly glanced away. “Oh, well, yes, of course, I—”
“Here,” the marcus reached for Dalan.
“No, no,” Orval said firmly. “Get her tea and put something in your stomach. I can do this; it doesn’t seem so hard.” He placed Dalan on the table and started to unwrap the swaddling.
The marcus shrugged, poured tea, and handed the mug to Amari. She kept it well away from Lara and sipped eagerly. It was dark and bitter on her tongue, but the welcome warmth pooled inside and made her stomach growl.
“Who do we have here?” Orval asked as he pulled back the swaddling cloth.
“Dalan,” Amari said.
Her son was nearly naked on the table. Her eyes filled to see him smile at Orval, healthy and happy as he waved his arms. Orval was peeling back the old nappy hesitantly, as if something was going to jump out and bite him.
“Oh,” Amari said, “you might want to cover—”
A small fountain rose in an arc. The proud baby chortled as he decorated Orval’s robe.
Orval blinked in surprise. Then he laughed, a lovely, warm belly laugh, his eyes sparkling. “Well, aren’t you a little whizzer,” he exclaimed.
