Chapter Fifty-One

Emilia giggled. Her laughter sounded like a little tinkling bell in between her attempts to move her lips as she mimicked her father. Harry sat on the floor, giving no thought about how difficult it might be to get up again, with the baby on a blanket on her back. He sang to her, old songs from his army days and folk songs his mother had sung to him when he and his brother were little. Emmy seemed to like it very much, so he just kept going.

To think that Harry had resisted this. He had not wanted to be taken from his job, to be forced to stay home all day every day. But with Ruth on bedrest again, there had not been much choice. They'd decided, long before Emmy was born, that they would not have their child raised by nannies. Yes, he and Ruth both had important duties that often kept them from home, but they were also flexible schedules. They could manage to only need the staff for those times when they were both absolutely unable to be with the baby. That had been the plan, anyway.

But then he'd gotten Ruth pregnant again and many of their plans had been sidelined. Ruth had been doing a few public appearances, allowing Harry to be back at work mostly fulltime instead of attending to royal things. It had been alright for most of the pregnancy until these final three weeks. Ruth's blood pressure was getting dangerous, and Doctor Parkins insisted that she remain resting. Bedrest and keeping stress-free meant that she could not be with Emmy every moment as Ruth had done when Emmy was a newborn.

As with most things, Ruth had stubbornly insisted she take care of everything herself until she couldn't any longer. She'd put Emilia down for a nap and fainted. Fiona had found her and roused her and called the doctor right away. There was no harm done to mother or infant or unborn baby. Everyone was perfectly alright, but it had scared Ruth into finally asking for some help.

She'd not asked Harry to take time off work, but he'd offered. He'd hated offering, he'd not wanted to. But he knew that the only thing that would make Ruth feel better and the best way for him to help was to be there. Ruth could rest and Harry could mind the baby and Erin would cover Foreign Intelligence and no one would worry.

He'd thought he would miss it. He thought he would be itching to go back to the capital and to his office. But he hadn't. He'd barely thought about it in days. Erin knew to call him if she needed him, but he did not feel the need to check in with her. He'd always loved the job and always been devoted to his duties. Recently, though, his duties had shifted. His love and devotion was not to the job. It was to his family. A less he'd learned not a moment too soon.

And now Harry could just sing to his baby girl. He still could not get over how much he loved her. Nearly to the point of pain, sometimes. His chest actually ached if he let himself think about it too much. Emilia was his child. His and Ruth's. She was theirs, born from their love. She was just shy of nine months old now and starting to develop a little personality. She liked when they talked to her, fixing her intent gaze on their lips and trying to mimic. She did not enjoy bath time or having her nappy changed, anything that required someone to undress her and disrupt her comfort. She finally slept very well and always woke up grumpy. Emilia was like her mother that way. She was also a very good eater and had started getting this awful habit of eating too much and making herself sick. If she continued drinking like that, she'd end up like her father and brother if they weren't careful.

But oh! How Harry adored this little girl. He laughed with her as she giggled at his silly songs. Her little arms reached out to him, and he offered her his finger, moving around in a little dance in time to his song. She giggled even more. Harry stopped singing just to lean in and kiss her chubby pink cheeks.

"Hate to interrupt, but Her Royal Highness has a message for you."

Harry sat up to see Fiona standing in the doorway. She had Wes—now nearly two years old—in her arms. He'd just woke up from his nap and rubbed his eyes with pudgy fists. Harry smiled to Wes and Fiona. "What's the message?" he asked.

"She said 'Tell Harry it's Mummy's turn,'" Fiona relayed.

He chuckled a bit at that. Ruth was just as enamored with their baby as he was, and the worst thing about this bedrest was that she could not get up to go see Emmy whenever she wanted. "Alright, Emmy, it's Mummy's turn," he murmured. He picked up the baby. She started to fuss. He knew she'd calm down in a moment. She just didn't enjoy being jostled and moved from place to place.

Fiona stood by, making sure he didn't need any help. But he was just fine.

That was another thing Harry had learned in the last week of being home and the last nine months of Emilia's life. He hadn't realized he'd be good with a baby. He really hadn't been around with Graham and Catherine, and Jane's resentment was such that she wouldn't let him do much when he did happen to be home. Now, though, it all seemed strangely easy with Emmy. She made her needs and her likes and her dislikes very known, and he'd always been a keen observer of human behavior. Even babies, it seemed. Or maybe it was just that she was his baby.

He smiled to himself, kissing her cheek again. His baby. She was his. All his. All Ruth's and his.

Harry hauled himself off the floor with Emmy safely in his arms. He crossed to the doorway and paused to say, "Hello, Wes."

Little Wes was very shy but he had taken a shine to Harry from the time he was very small, and Harry enjoyed spending time with the little boy. "Hi Missah Hawwy," he replied with his sweet toddler voice.

With a chuckle, Harry ruffled the boy's hair, making him laugh. "I'll come read you a story later, alright?"

Wes nodded excitedly. His mother then took him downstairs to get him a snack, and Harry went down the hall to see Ruth.

"Oh give her here!"

As soon as Harry walked through the bedroom doors, Ruth had her arms outstretched towards her daughter. She was nicely settled under the covers with her enormously pregnant belly. Harry came right over and handed over the baby.

Ruth cooed and snuggled with Emilia while Harry sat on the edge of the bed beside her. He reached beneath the sheet to greet his unborn child. Within a moment of touching bare skin, the baby kicked.

"How's the other little princess today?" he asked teasingly.

"The baby is fine. I'm sick of lying here, but what else is new?" Ruth grumbled. She did not indulge in Harry's hunch that their next baby was also going to be a girl.

"I won't apologize for getting you pregnant, but I am sorry you're having a hard time of it, darling," Harry said softly.

Ruth smiled affectionately. "Not too much longer now," she reasoned. "And then we can have two children under a year old."

He gave a wheezy chuckle. "What a nightmare."

She held Emmy in the crook of one arm and put her free hand on her belly. "You hear that? Your daddy says you're a nightmare!"

"No," he amended. "They're a dream come true. Baby Emmy and Baby No-Name."

Ruth rolled her eyes. The baby would be born in the next week or so but they still had not decided on a name. John Albert James Henry for a boy, as they'd decided the last time. But they had run the gamut of girl's names. Harry was pushing for Elizabeth, after Ruth's mother, but she was resistant. For all her wonderful qualities, Ruth could be a stubborn mule at times. She'd probably have an epiphany in the middle of the night at some point in the next week. Harry would just keep annoying her with name suggestions until then.

Harry gently rubbed her belly, and Ruth put her hand on top of his. Emmy was pulling at Ruth's ears and the unborn baby was kicking like mad. And for the moment, everything was quiet and perfectly wonderful.