"Bring me another nurse," Talia said coolly, crossing her arms over her chest while the dead woman's life blood dirtied the bathwater. "He will need another breast to suckle."
Beside her, Richard ignored the order—it wasn't for him anyways—and waded into the bath to scoop up Damian. The infant fussed at the boy for the sudden chill outside the warm water and his lack of a soft breast to feed him. When Ra's had first brought Richard into the League's fold, Talia had possessed only contempt for her father's latest pet project, an under grown child of poor pedigree that cried too much and reached out far too often for physical affection. But over the years Richard had proven himself to be loyal, deadly, and his adoration for Damian was equaled only by her own love.
And perhaps his desire for physicality was not quite the nuisance she implied it was. Perhaps it was…sweet to have a child's arms wrapped around her waist, a small face pressed against her belly. It was no one's business but her own how she felt about Richard. He grinned at Damian and attempted to tease him out of his crankiness with callused fingertips to a soft, round tummy. Talia stifled a quirk of her lips. He would have made an ideal nursemaid were he a woman. He did make an ideal companion for her son. A brother for now. Maybe a lover when Damian was of an age for such things. It mattered little how their relationship played out as long as Richard's devotion remained unwavering. And of that Talia had no doubts.
