In Which Adonis Is Shown How He Loves

January 15, 1170

"Well," Adonis muttered to the infant as he glanced through the window and watched Ceidrid and Evaleith and young Adwyn set off toward their house, "I suppose it's just you and me now."

The baby's hand balled into a tiny fist. Adonis shook his head; an hour old and already his little girl had a sense of humor. Maybe that would help somewhat.

Then again, maybe not. Sev wouldn't even be three for another month, but it seemed as though an eternity had passed since Adonis had last had to take care of a baby. He had nothing against babies--hell, he'd had five before this one--but he did feel a bit awkward around them. It seemed to Adonis that babies were akin to felines; they were constantly staring, constantly sleeping, and you could never tell what they were thinking. At least they were cute.

This one was no exception. She was a little small, but according to Arydath, not to the point where they should be worried. A soft brown fuzz covered her tiny head and she was staring up at him with Avine's doe-like eyes--or were they his own eyes? They were close enough in hue that it was difficult to tell.

The baby sneezed. Adonis raised lifted her to his shoulder and gently rubbed her back. "You all right, pretty girl? Want to go see Mama?"

The brown eyes widened; Adonis laughed, then kissed the baby on the cheek. "I know it's a scary sight, but you're just going to have to get used to Papa's nose. Most of your siblings weren't lucky enough to avoid it, so you'll probably have it yourself one day."

The little girl began to wail. A little insulted, he took to lightly bouncing her up and down, hoping that the motion would calm her; it only half-worked. Was his nose really that ugly? "Aw, sweetheart, I was just joking; maybe you'll get your mama's nose."

The cries continued, but they seemed a little softer--and most fortunately so, seeing as Avine was probably asleep in the next room. He still wasn't quite sure whether he loved his second wife or not, or if he would at some point; he was comfortable around her and fond of her as a friend, but he had yet to sense any trace of that elusive spark. Certainly it was not what he'd felt for Honora, though he didn't think it right to compare the two. He's spent Avine's pregnancy in mingled anticipation and dread; he'd wanted to think that he would love Avine's children just as much as he loved Honora's, but what if--somehow, for some horrible reason--he couldn't?

Looking at his daughter now, however, he realized it had been needless to worry. He'd only known her for an hour, but he already loved her just as much as his other children, and in the same way he loved his other children--not for their mothers, but for their own dear little selves.

He continued to massage her back until her cries subsided. "There's a good baby," he breathed as she coughed up a bit of spit onto his shoulder. "You must be hungry. Maybe we should go see if Mama's awake."

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