Chapter 48
I stared down at the little face smashed against my chest. At the tiny, blotchy body, raising and falling with each minute breath. Matted brown hair, white with vernix, crowned her head.
My daughter’s head.
I’d cried for half an hour when she finally came out, not from pain or physical relief, but from the moment Mother declared that my baby was a girl.
Winnie pressured us to cleanse the child and bundle her up, but my mother argued against it, and as the new royal physician, she had the final say.
She put her right against me to try and feed.
Again, Winnie tried to stop me, to offer up a wet nurse.
Adelaide had brought several to the castle in the prior weeks. But I simply couldn’t.
Florence aided my parents in the clean-up efforts. Then everyone left me to my child, save for Winnie, and she dozed off quickly in the nearest seat.
“Hi,” I whispered again, though the baby just slept away, contented on my bare chest. I pressed my face against her, inhaling that strange, pleasant scent. “Hello, little one.”
After a long while, a gentle knock came at the door. Winnie snorted as she woke up, quite put-out by her efforts in assisting me, and jumped to her feet. I yawned as she went to the door.
Quinn looked down at her, tentative and almost shy. “No sign of Nicolas yet, but the guards outside have been informed, and a search has…”
He stopped, staring at me. At the baby curled atop my chest. Then he fell to his knees, making a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. Winnie helped him up with concern, but his eyes were glued to my child.
“May I come closer?” he asked.
I nodded. He approached nervously, like any quick motion might shatter the peace within the room. His hand reached forward, trailing along the baby’s arm. Wonder filled his eyes.
“Florence said you had a girl,” he whispered. As he reached her hand, the baby took hold of his finger, wrapping the digits instinctively around him and stealing his breath away.
“Juliana” I spelled with one hand.
Quinn stilled, his finger trapped in my daughter’s grip. For a long moment, he said absolutely nothing. He only stared, grief and gratitude written plainly in his eyes. “Juliana.” Then he held out his arms. “May I hold her?”
I offered her forth, and Quinn took her with the confidence of a man who’d held a number of babies in his time.
“I thought it was beautiful,” I replied, only moving when his eyes pried off of the baby. “In truth, I was so worried about having a son that I didn’t plan for any girls’ names. Juliana stuck out to me.”
In the corner of my vision, the door shut. Winnie departed, leaving us alone. Reclining, I took care to cover myself with a sheet, though Quinn hardly seemed to notice my bare breasts.
“Hi, tiny princess,” he whispered, walking her over to the changing table and wrapping her in a clout before swaddling her in warmer fabrics. “Semeses maertua. Quer beal, quer minuse…en tua amomie si.”
I wasn’t sure what he said. I knew it was soft enough to break him, to make tears fall freely down his face as he swayed with my little girl, gasping for every snuffling noise that left her.
My eyes grew heavy.
“Oh, Lana, rest,” Quinn said to me. “I’ve got her. Yes, I do. I’ve got you, penon bebi.”
His voice came and went as he doted. I drifted off to his lullabies, not quite understanding the words but feeling every bit of love that fell from his lips.
The door creaked open, followed by the clatter of a sword belt against the frame.
I startled awake to find Nicolas frozen in the doorway, still in his hunting clothes.
I recognized the outfit from the first time I saw him, but now mud was splattered up to his knees and his hair was blown wild, as if he’d ridden hard to get here and hadn’t stopped to change before running up the tower.
“Forgive me,” he said. “I rode straight here. The guards said—”
The words died on his lips. He stared at Quinn, who stood by the window, swaying gently with that bundle in his arms. Neither man moved.
Conflict played across Nicolas’ face. Relief, maybe, but also an unmistakable darkness that bordered on threatening.
“You have a daughter,” Quinn whispered, not looking away from little Juliana.
Nicolas crossed the room. When he was close enough, Quinn carefully transferred Juliana to her father’s arms and took a step back.
“Have you named her?” Nicolas asked, turning to me. His face transformed, wonder replacing whatever he’d felt before.
I signed it out, both hands this time.
“Your wife chose a wonderful name,” Quinn said, already moving to the door. He paused as he went past my bed, his hand touching the post at the corner. “Do you feel well, my queen?”
I met his eyes. Briefly, but enough to acknowledge the tenderness he’d shown. His expression bordered on desperate, like he was begging me to find any reason for him to stay. Like he was giving up a daughter of his own.
“Do you?”
Quinn smiled, then turned back to Nicolas and Juliana.
“Congratulations,” he replied, dodging the question. Then he went back through the door, leaving me to my family.
Nicolas settled into the chair Winnie had fallen asleep in, holding our baby close. “She’s so small.”
I smiled, leaning back into the pillows.
“I should’ve been here. I should’ve been the first man to hold her.”
“Technically, that honor fell to my father,” I amended, not sure if that would make things better or worse. Nicolas huffed, tracing Juliana’s cheeks.
“Your father,” he said flatly. Then he warmed again as Juliana yawned. “Oh, look at that! So cute…”
His eyes slowly went to the door.
“How long was Quinn here?”
I shrugged, uncertain myself. “I’d been holding her for a while when he showed up. Then I fell asleep. There’s no telling how long I was out for, though. It’s been dark since she was born.”
Peeking to the window, I could see that it was almost dawn. Time moved differently under duress.
“I wanted to be here for it. In the room with you, holding your hand or fetching towels. Being useful. Gods, why did I agree to a hunt?”
“We were bored,” I answered. “Besides, I think if you’d tried to hold my hand, I would have bitten your arm off.”
I certainly would have. I’d delivered a number of pointed insults and hysterical curses tonight.
“Well, I’m glad someone was here with you when you needed…” he trailed off, watching those tiny fingers flex. “You know, I’ve never held a baby. I really haven’t been around many at all, come to think of it. They seem so fragile.”
“It’s my first time, too.”
Nicolas laughed, rearing his head back with the shared realization that we were both complete amateurs. “We’re in for it, aren’t we?”
“Nic.”
He paused, looking at me.
“I forgive you.”
His smile faltered, then went away entirely. He searched my eyes with pinched brows, as if making sure he’d heard me correctly. Juliana made a small sound and he automatically adjusted his hold, but his gaze was unrelenting.
“We have a daughter,” I said. “Let’s restart. Clean the slate.”
His throat bobbed. He shifted Juliana to one arm and stood, coming to my bedside. I offered him my hand, and he took it.
“You don’t have to—”
My thumb stroked the back of his hand. He softened, kissing my wrist.
“Thank you.”