Chapter Thirty-Seven #3
“I am sure she is hungry, my lord,” Griselda said. “I have seen to securing a wet nurse from the village so that your wife may recover uninterrupted.”
“That was wise,” Christopher agreed, looking with concern on the red-faced babe. “Take her and make sure she is fed. I would see to my wife now.”
The midwife moved to take the baby but Deborah begged to hold her just a bit longer but Christopher intervened. “Deborah, soon you will have a squawking infant of your very own. Now, unhand my daughter so that she might eat.”
With a smile, his sister reluctantly handed the child over.
Dustin’s room was dark except for the light from the fire, casting dancing shadows on the walls. Christopher entered quietly, waving away the maid who was sitting vigilantly by his sleeping wife. The woman left the room quickly, leaving him alone with Dustin for the first time in days.
He moved around the bed and sat in the great hide chair, removing his boots as quietly as possible.
But his eyes, the entire time, never left her face.
She looked so entirely peaceful and beautiful and it occurred to him that she wasn’t snoring.
Boots off, he removed his tunic and leaned forward in the chair to tenderly stroke her head, knowing he should not because it might disturb her, but wanting so desperately to touch her.
His love for his wife was so great it was more a part of him than his heart or his brain, he knew he literally could not live without her.
“So, coward, you come in when all of the screaming and blood has vanished,” Dustin mumbled, her face half into her pillow.
He smiled, his hand caressing her head. “You are supposed to be sleeping.”
Her face was pale and there were dark smudges under her eyes, but her beautiful smile lit up the room. “I could not. Not until I saw you.”
He took her hand and kissed it so reverently that it brought tears to her eyes. “Did you see her?” she asked.
His eyes were misty as well. “I did and she is absolutely beautiful, as is befitting your daughter,” he whispered. “Thank you, Dustin. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.”
He kissed her hand again and she sobbed softly, not bothering to wipe the tears away that were streaming down her temples. “Lord God, I am tired. She was not easily born, Chris.”
“I know.” He laid his cheek on her hand, his eyes drinking in her face. “I suppose I am to blame for that. ’Tis my tremendous size.”
She shrugged. “As large as you are, I am equally as small. I believe we are both to blame.”
He smiled broadly and leaned forward to deposit the sweetest of kisses on her lips.
His forehead touched hers, his huge hand still caressing her head and feeling her softness.
He was content just to feel her, to touch her, and to know she had survived something as deadly as all of the battles he had ever faced.
His hands touched her face and he could still feel her warm tears, and he kissed her entire face until all of the tears were but a damp memory.
Beneath his touch, Dustin sighed raggedly.
“I love you, sweetheart,” he murmured, his lips against her temple.
Dustin burst into soft sobs again and he shushed her gently, knowing how tired and emotionally drained she was. They both were.
“I think we have a problem,” he said after a moment, trying to lighten the heady mood. “You selected only one name, a male name. We certainly cannot name my beautiful daughter Curtis.”
She blinked at him, sniffling. “ ’Tis true that we cannot,” she answered hoarsely. “But I had selected a girl’s name, as well, only I wasn’t going to tell you because I wanted so badly the babe to be a boy.”
His smile faded. “Are you disappointed, then?”
“Nay.” she insisted and he instantly believed her. “How could I be? The moment I looked at her, I wanted her more than any scruffy male child. She’s so pink and perfect and…are you disappointed?”
“Perish the thought, Dustin,” he said with soft sternness. “She is my daughter, my flesh and blood, and I love her more than anything on this earth, other than you. I wouldn’t take a son for her if God himself marched into this room and proposed a trade.”
She smiled faintly. “I am so glad. I know that all men want sons and ….”
“Not me,” he insisted. “I am perfectly happy with a gorgeous daughter in the image of my gorgeous wife.”
She put her arms around his neck and he could feel for himself just how weak she was. She needed to sleep, and so did he.
“What is this name you have selected for her?” he asked, unwinding her arms gently.
She looked thoughtful. “I was hard pressed to think of the most wonderful name I could. Anne, Eleanor, and Catherine are too common and I do not like them. And since I have an uncommon name, I wanted our daughter to have a beautiful and uncommon name, too.”
“And?” he pressed.
She smiled. “I wanted to name her after you, and after me, so I put our names together. Her name will be Christin. Christin Valeria de Lohr.”
“Christin,” he repeated softly. “I like it very much. ’Tis as fragile and feminine and perfect as she is. And Valeria after my mother. Christ, I am lucky to have such a clever wife.” He leaned down and kissed her loudly on the forehead.
She smiled, her fatigue catching up with her and her lids suddenly very heavy. He stroked her forehead. “Sleep now, sweetheart. I shall not leave you.”
She nodded feebly, trying to adjust her sore body into a comfortable position.
He thought about sleeping next to her this night, but he knew she was terribly stiff and he did not want his presence impeding her.
If she wanted to sleep crosswise on the bed because it was more comfortable for her, then so be it.
He settled back in the hide chair, his hand resting on her arm, and lay his head back with a sigh of contentment.
He stared at the ceiling a moment, silently thanking God for his infinite mercy and the blessings he had seen fit to bestow on him.
Still touching his wife, he drifted off into a dreamless sleep.
*
Griselda stood like a silent guard as the wet nurse fed the baron’s new child, making sure all was well. When the infant had eaten her fill and slept contentedly, she retrieved her and carried her into the new nursery that had been decorated for her and her soon-to-arrive cousin.
She lay the babe down and re-swaddled the wrappings, tightening them as she went.
At one point a tiny hand found its way out of the bindings and Griselda started to put it back when she noticed just how small the hand was.
The rest of the baby was large and she was healthy, but her hands were tiny and wrinkled.
Curious, Griselda undid the rest of the blankets and examined the feet.
They, too, were small in proportion to the size of the body and wrinkled.
Griselda looked thoughtful as she wrapped the baby up again. The small hands and feet were indicative of a premature infant, although the child was as big as any she had seen. Properly swaddled and laid on her side, the old woman watched the dark-haired infant for a moment, pondering her discovery.
After a moment, she shrugged to herself and turned away; mayhap the infant was premature, after all mayhap Lady de Lohr had been right all along.