Confessions of a Royal Bridegroom(150)

When the baby interrupted him by startling in her arms, Justine glared at her husband. “Shush,” she hissed. “Just let me get him to sleep, and then we can talk.”

He subsided with a mutter, clearly both unhappy and not intending to leave. Justine sighed, forcing herself to ignore the irate, glowering male who radiated waves of aggrieved, frustrated power while she concentrated on rocking the baby to sleep.

During the interlude, a fragile peace settled over the room. Griffin leaned against the wall, silent and still, watching Justine and the baby with a thoughtful expression on his handsome features. In that moment, she could almost believe they were a family, bound together by true bonds of affection and not reluctant expediency. But that would never be the case, and this would probably be one of the last times she ever rocked Stephen to sleep in her arms, her husband close by to offer both protection and security.

She must have let her emotions show on her face because Griffin suddenly pushed away from the wall.

“Justine, my love,” he started.

She shook her head. “He’s asleep. Let me put him in his cradle.”

With her heart cracking in two, she lowered Stephen into his cradle and gently tucked the soft woolen blanket around him. Tears filled her eyes, blurring the sight of his adorable round face.

Griffin’s hands settled on her shoulders. “Come, sweetheart,” he murmured. “We can talk in your bedroom.”

She was too exhausted and disheartened to resist as he steered her into the other room. But when he turned to close the door behind them, she broke away and went to stand by her dressing table, determined to put space between them.

Griffin’s eyebrows arched with a hint of disapproval but he didn’t follow. “Justine, I know you’re disappointed.”

She couldn’t hold back a soft hoot of mocking laughter. “Disappointed? I’m furious, and terrified at what’s going to happen to that innocent child. Do you really believe that man, the count, has his best interests at heart? Are you going to tell me you believed that canard about him having nothing to do with breaking into your house? Truly, Griffin, I would never have taken you for a fool, but it would appear I was wrong.”

The banked emotion in his eyes blazed into anger even as his features turned as unrelenting as stone. Justine swallowed, acknowledging that she might have pushed things a little too far. But Griffin remained where he was, even though she suspected he wanted to give her a sound shaking.

“Forgive me for not pulling out a pistol and shooting the man in the head, my wife,” he said in a grating voice. “I realize you have no such inhibitions, but despite my reputation I still have a healthy respect for the law. More so than you, obviously.”

Then his frustration broke through and he swiped his hands back through his hair, pulling most of it free from its leather band. “Christ, Justine. Of course I think the man’s a liar, and I like the situation as little as you do. Nor do I enjoy feeling powerless under my own roof. But if Dominic says there’s nothing we can do about it, at least for now, then there isn’t. And you know that, too.”

Despair threatening to pull her under, Justine sank onto the chair in front of her dressing table. “I’ve never seen Uncle Dominic give up so easily. It’s simply bewildering.”

Griffin slowly crossed the room and stood before her, his hands behind his back as he stared at the carpet. “I don’t think he gave up easily. I suspect he had no choice, and that goes very much against the grain for him.”

“It didn’t seem like it to me,” she retorted, still too hurt to concede.