“I like it, Papa,” Kit said. “I like it here in the forest.”
“It’s awfully cold,” Elizabeth said, huddled in the plaid. “If this is summer, what is winter like in Scotland?”
“Bronwyn thinks England is hot. In the winter she wraps herself in one of those plaids and sleeps on the snow.”
“No!” Elizabeth breathed. “Is she truly such a barbarian?”
Smiling, Miles turned to his son, saw his eyes drooping.
“Come lay down beside me,” Elizabeth said and Kit went to her.
Miles spread his cloak, motioned for Elizabeth and Kit to lie on it, covered them with the plaid. After tossing more wood on the fire, he lifted the plaid and crawled in beside Kit.
“You can’t—” she began but stopped. There was nowhere else for him to sleep. Between them, Kit’s sleeping body kept them warm. Elizabeth was very aware of Miles so close to her, but instead of frightening her his presence was reassuring.
With her head propped on her arm, she watched the fire. “What was Kit’s mother like?” she asked softly. “Did she fall in love with you the first time she saw you in your armor?”
Miles gave a snort of laughter. “Margaret Sidney turned up her pretty little nose at me and refused to speak to me. I did everything I could to try and impress her. Once, when she came to the training field to bring water to her father, I turned to look at her, lost my stirrup and Raine hit me in the side with his lance. I still have the scar.”
“But I thought—”
“You thought that I’d sold my soul to the devil and as a result I could have any woman I wanted.”
“I had heard that story,” she said evenly, not looking at him.
He caught her free hand from Kit’s side, kissed her fingertips. “The devil hasn’t made an offer for my soul, but if he did, I might think about it.”
“You blaspheme!” she said, pulling her hand away. She was quiet for a moment. “But your Margaret Sidney changed her mind.”
“She was sixteen and so very beautiful and so in love with Gavin at the time. She wanted nothing to do with a boy like me.”
“And what changed her mind?”
He grinned broadly. “I persisted.”
Elizabeth stiffened. “And when you got her, how did you celebrate?”
“By asking her to marry me,” Miles shot back. “I told you I loved her.”
“You give your love lightly. Why didn’t Bridget marry you or this cousin who just bore your daughter?
”
He was quiet for several moments. “I have loved only one woman; I have made love to many women. I have asked only Kit’s mother to marry me and when I ask again, it will be because I love the woman.”
“I pity her.” Elizabeth sighed. “She will have to put up with your bastards being presented, two and three a year.”
“You don’t seem to mind this child of mine, and you held the girl at the inn when you thought she was mine.”
“But I, happily, am not married to you.”
Miles’s voice lowered. “If you were my wife, would you mind receiving new children every few months?”
“I wouldn’t blame your four children for your past transgressions, but if I should marry any man, which I will not do, and if my husband humiliated me by impregnating every servant girl in England, I believe that I would arrange his death.”
“Fair enough,” Miles said, an undertone of amusement in his voice. He turned on his side, put his arm over Kit, around Elizabeth’s shoulders, and drew both of them to him. “Goodnight, my angel,” he whispered and was asleep.
Chapter 6