to—”
“We’re of the same blood, you an’ I,” Milo said, enunciating slowly in an apparent effort to counteract his muddled speech. “Thas’ important. We look a bit alike, don’t you think? Or we used to—at least in coloring. The baby would be of de Périgeaux stock, and he’d look it, by God.”
“You’re wasting your time, Milo. Let’s go—”
“You’re unmarried,” Milo interrupted. “I wouldn’t ask this of a wedded man. They say you’ve no attachments, nor do you want any.”
“Nor do I want any children,” Alex pointed out.
“Precisely, which means it’s unlikely you’ll claim any that come from my wife.” Milo grinned blearily, clearly pleased with himself. “Thought it all out—I told you. Another thing—you live far away. You’re practically an Englishman now. You won’t be always about, inspiring bothersome speculation about who really sired Milo de St. Clair’s son.”
“So you do care what people think.”
“I would spare Nicolette her cherished reputation if I could. ‘Twill make everything simpler, in any event, if such conjecture is kept to a minimum. Legally, it makes no difference whether folks think he’s legitimate or not. Henri’s will merely stipulated that Nicolette must bear a son—it didn’t specify whose.”
“Since you’ve thought this all out so well, tell me—what will you do if she gives birth to a daughter?”
“Find some healthy newborn boy and negotiate a trade with his parents, I suppose. The baby girl and a handful of silver for their son and a promise to keep mum. Or, if Nicolette refuses to part with the girl, I’ll simply buy a boy outright and claim she had twins.”
“You’ve become quite an unprincipled wretch, you know that, Milo?”
“A man doesn’t beg to be cuckolded without coming to that realization, cousin.”
“Well, unfortunately for you, my principles are still quite intact. I won’t do it.”
“Not even for Nicolette?”
“Especially not for her.” Damn—that was careless.
In a quiet, almost sober voice, Milo asked, “What is that supposed to mean?”
A dozen different inane prevarications occurred to Alex, but he didn’t have the stomach for any of them. Finally, on a heavy sigh, he said, “You’d best ask her.”
Milo nodded slowly, then turned and lurched toward the castle. Alex took hold of him and fairly dragged him through the entrance. By the time they reached the north tower, Milo’s legs were buckling beneath him, and Alex wondered how he was going to get him upstairs to his chamber.
Hearing footsteps from behind, Alex turned and saw Gaspar coming toward them. “There you are, milord! I was beginning to worry about you. Here, Sir Alex. Let me give you a hand with him.” Squeezing three abreast in the narrow stairwell, Gaspar and Alex supported the insensible Milo between them and half-carried him up the steps. When they got to the door at the top of the tower, Alex knocked.
“Milo?” Nicki called from within.
Gaspar opened the door. “Aye, milady, but he’s...oh. Beg pardon, milady.”
Nicki was seated on the edge of the bed, drawing a big ivory comb through her hair. She stood up quickly, and Alex saw that she wore the white sleeping shift that had been laid out for her. The shimmery silk highlighted her feminine contours and left her arms and lower legs completely bare.
Alex averted his gaze, as did Gaspar—if not quite so swiftly—while Nicki grabbed a wrapper off a hook and hurriedly tied it over the shift. “Oh, Milo,” she murmured, shaking her head. “Put him here.” She folded down the bed covers.
“I’ve got ‘im.” With seemingly little effort, Gaspar lifted Milo like a baby and deposited him on the bed. “You can be on your way, Sir Alex,” he said over his shoulder as he tugged Milo’s boots off. “I’m used to this.”
Circling the bed, Nicki leaned over Milo to unbuckle his belt, her great swath of golden hair gleaming in the light from the horn
“We’re of the same blood, you an’ I,” Milo said, enunciating slowly in an apparent effort to counteract his muddled speech. “Thas’ important. We look a bit alike, don’t you think? Or we used to—at least in coloring. The baby would be of de Périgeaux stock, and he’d look it, by God.”
“You’re wasting your time, Milo. Let’s go—”
“You’re unmarried,” Milo interrupted. “I wouldn’t ask this of a wedded man. They say you’ve no attachments, nor do you want any.”
“Nor do I want any children,” Alex pointed out.
“Precisely, which means it’s unlikely you’ll claim any that come from my wife.” Milo grinned blearily, clearly pleased with himself. “Thought it all out—I told you. Another thing—you live far away. You’re practically an Englishman now. You won’t be always about, inspiring bothersome speculation about who really sired Milo de St. Clair’s son.”
“So you do care what people think.”
“I would spare Nicolette her cherished reputation if I could. ‘Twill make everything simpler, in any event, if such conjecture is kept to a minimum. Legally, it makes no difference whether folks think he’s legitimate or not. Henri’s will merely stipulated that Nicolette must bear a son—it didn’t specify whose.”
“Since you’ve thought this all out so well, tell me—what will you do if she gives birth to a daughter?”
“Find some healthy newborn boy and negotiate a trade with his parents, I suppose. The baby girl and a handful of silver for their son and a promise to keep mum. Or, if Nicolette refuses to part with the girl, I’ll simply buy a boy outright and claim she had twins.”
“You’ve become quite an unprincipled wretch, you know that, Milo?”
“A man doesn’t beg to be cuckolded without coming to that realization, cousin.”
“Well, unfortunately for you, my principles are still quite intact. I won’t do it.”
“Not even for Nicolette?”
“Especially not for her.” Damn—that was careless.
In a quiet, almost sober voice, Milo asked, “What is that supposed to mean?”
A dozen different inane prevarications occurred to Alex, but he didn’t have the stomach for any of them. Finally, on a heavy sigh, he said, “You’d best ask her.”
Milo nodded slowly, then turned and lurched toward the castle. Alex took hold of him and fairly dragged him through the entrance. By the time they reached the north tower, Milo’s legs were buckling beneath him, and Alex wondered how he was going to get him upstairs to his chamber.
Hearing footsteps from behind, Alex turned and saw Gaspar coming toward them. “There you are, milord! I was beginning to worry about you. Here, Sir Alex. Let me give you a hand with him.” Squeezing three abreast in the narrow stairwell, Gaspar and Alex supported the insensible Milo between them and half-carried him up the steps. When they got to the door at the top of the tower, Alex knocked.
“Milo?” Nicki called from within.
Gaspar opened the door. “Aye, milady, but he’s...oh. Beg pardon, milady.”
Nicki was seated on the edge of the bed, drawing a big ivory comb through her hair. She stood up quickly, and Alex saw that she wore the white sleeping shift that had been laid out for her. The shimmery silk highlighted her feminine contours and left her arms and lower legs completely bare.
Alex averted his gaze, as did Gaspar—if not quite so swiftly—while Nicki grabbed a wrapper off a hook and hurriedly tied it over the shift. “Oh, Milo,” she murmured, shaking her head. “Put him here.” She folded down the bed covers.
“I’ve got ‘im.” With seemingly little effort, Gaspar lifted Milo like a baby and deposited him on the bed. “You can be on your way, Sir Alex,” he said over his shoulder as he tugged Milo’s boots off. “I’m used to this.”
Circling the bed, Nicki leaned over Milo to unbuckle his belt, her great swath of golden hair gleaming in the light from the horn
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