Heaven's Fire by Patricia Ryan

Author:Patricia Ryan [Ryan, Patricia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: General, Fiction, Historical Romance
ISBN: 9781452499871
Google: Msm6tytvJmMC
Amazon: B003V1WI1Y
Barnesnoble: B003V1WI1Y
Goodreads: 9610787
Publisher: Topaz
Published: 1995-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

“We’d like you to be godmother to Wulfric,” said Martine, sitting up in bed with the baby asleep in her arms. Thorne, sitting by her side, reached over to caress Wulfric’s thick shock of gold hair and wipe away the trickle of milk that escaped from his half-open mouth.

“Me?”

“If it weren’t for you, there would be no baby to baptize tomorrow.” Martine smiled toward her brother, standing near the bedchamber door. “Rainulf will be his godfather.”

“I’m... I’m honored,” Corliss said. “Truly.”

Father John, the barony chaplain, cleared his throat. “There is something I’m obliged to mention before you agree.” He glanced uneasily between Corliss and Rainulf. “The sacrament of baptism spiritually binds the godparents not only to the child, but to each other. Under canon law, lifting up the same child from the font is an impediment to marriage.”

“We didn’t realize...” Thorne began, his brow furrowed.

“Ah,” Father John said. “Then perhaps you ought to think about choosing another godmother.”

A great silence descended on the chamber. Presently Rainulf cleared his throat. “She can serve as godmother,” he said tightly. Drawing in a breath, he added, “We can both serve. There’s no problem.”

Thorne and Martine exchanged a look. A great sadness welled up within Corliss, a sadness reflected in Rainulf’s expression of grim resignation.

“He’s right,” Corliss said in a monotone. “There’s no reason we can’t both serve as godparents. Thank you for asking me. I gladly accept.”

* * *

Rainulf received the naked infant and held him above the big marble font, nodding to Corliss, who took hold of the feet. The afternoon sun streaming in through the stained-glass window overhead bathed her face in multicolored light. The sight transfixed him for a long, breathless moment.

A hand closed over his arm. “Immerse the child,” Father John whispered.

Together, he and Corliss dipped a squalling Wulfric into the water, then lifted him up. Father John anointed the babe’s forehead with sacred chrism and tied a white cloth around it, then took him into his arms.

Corliss smiled at Rainulf, and after a moment’s hesitation, he smiled back.

So this is how it’s to be. I’m to continue on as if I don’t ache with wanting her, as if it doesn’t hurt just to look upon her.

We’re to act as if we don’t care.

So be it. If she can do it, so can I.

* * *

Corliss lay in bed, gazing at the light from beneath the door to Rainulf’s chamber. Tomorrow they would begin their return journey to Oxford. She looked forward to the trip with a fair measure of anticipation, for it meant they’d have two days alone together.

She’d missed him during their visit to Blackburn. In truth, she’d seen him only at supper, for he spent his days at St. Dunstan’s and his evenings closeted in his chamber reading books borrowed from the priory’s library. When she awoke during the night—as now—she would see the light beneath his door, no matter how late it was. Sometimes, if she lay very still and held her breath, she fancied she could hear the soft whisper of pages being turned.

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