Married At Midnight by Katherine Woodwiss Read Free Book Online Page A

the devil-may-care way that the whole regiment recognized as a sign that Charles the Bold was about to take on death again.
    And win.
    She hoped.
    She'd married the man.
    She must have been mad. She could never cope with such energy, such risk-taking, and he could never have really intended to tie himself to a woman such as she.
    In their last devastating encounter, Dennis had clearly told her that she should never have expected that even a son of
    the gentry would marry into trade, and he'd been right. Though she'd loved him for himself, she'd been extremely flattered by his attentions. Captain Charles Tennant was undoubtedly far, far above her touch.
    He rescued the baby from the doting Peabody and came over, the child a tiny bundle in his big right arm.
    "We just wanted to let you rest as long as possible. But it's time to move."
    No "Are you able?" she noticed.
    Pushing weariness aside, she said, "It certainly is," and took the hand he extended. She was sure his pull contributed
    as much as her rather shaky legs, but she hoped he didn't notice. If he believed she could not cope, he'd be on the
    horns of a terrible dilemma.
    How far could she walk today, though? Perhaps out of sight would be far enough.
    "Are you in pain?" he asked curtly, shattering her hopes of looking indomitable.
    "No. A little fragile, perhaps. Heavy inside. I'll be all right."
    "Then what are you thinking?"
    She smiled for him. "Nothing bad. Just that none of this seems real."
    "Oh, it's real enough." He snapped a few commands to his men and they finished gathering their stuff in double time and rushed out the door followed by Peabody carrying a big pot of porridge. "They'll eat outside while we get you decent."
    Kate bit her lips to control a smile. Charles the Bold was definitely back in form.
    The baby, however, didn't recognize his authority and begin to wail. The captain scowled down at him then put the

    infant into her arms. "I suppose you'd better feed him. Don't take long."
    Self-conscious in the daylight, Kate tried to slide the baby under his shirt, but the business was still sufficiently tricky
    that she gave up. A glance showed that he'd courteously turned away. "I suppose I had better name him,"
    she said.
    His back gave no indication of mood, but she thought there was a touch of humor when he said, "We certainly can't
    call him baby forever."
    She liked that "we" but didn't place much dependence on it, and forever was not a concept that had any meaning for
    her at the moment. She looked down at the baby, who almost seemed to be frowning in concentration as he suckled.
    A fierce little thing. What name would suit him? Certainly not Dennis. And not Charles, either, tempting though it was. Her father was called Augustus, which she did not favor.
    "Do you have any suggestions?" she asked.
    "A good friend of mine died not long ago. His name was Stephen..."
    Kate remembered Major Stephen Courtenay—a rather serious man, who liked to consider all the angles of anything. Dennis had found him infuriating, but no one had denied that he was honest, brave, and sensibly caring of all the men
    in his command. He'd been sincerely mourned.
    She hadn't been aware of a close bond between the major and the captain, but the major would have been foil to Charles the Bold's occasional fiery impulses.
    "Stephen, then," she said, but without a last name, for it seemed absurd to call the child Stephen Tennant.
    As absurd
    as to call herself Mrs. Tennant.
    She left such conundrums for later.
    The captain went to the door and called Mr. Right-well. In moments the baby was christened, with Private Peabody
    and Corporal Milwood standing proxy for godparents back in England—Kate's sister Anne and the captain's cousin, Thomas.
    When the others had retreated outside again, he went with them, saying, "I'll get you some porridge."
    In moments he was back, and he started to spoon
    feed her as she fed the baby.
    "In a hurry, are we?" she asked between glutinous