Kat:  They weren't interrupted in the first couple chapters.

KDC:  I think she would make a great mom.  She wouldn't be all 'lovey-dovey', but she would be protective and kind.

ChosenOne:  I am this close to murdering you, my darling sis.  NOW UPDATE!  clears throat Now, in this chapter – or the next – you'll learn who interrupted them and you have my permission to kick his ass.

Keys:  I'm trying!  Thanks for the vote of (in?) confidence.

Panda:  Klor verses New Creep…mmm…

LadyMar:  I think the answer will shock people. 

Taya:  I never even saw the first two Scary Movies.  They're not really my type, but I'm glad you had fun.

Fab:  You know if you had asked me sooner I would've been thrilled.  Unfortunately, I'm already the beta-reader of four other FF.net writers.  Yet, thank you so much for considering me.  I promise when I'm done helping the others I will check in and see if you still need a beta-reader.

-*-*-*-*-

Chapter Thirteen

Lullaby

Leaning back against the wicker chair, Marguerite groaned and wiggled her sore feet.  After she'd heard the voice, Roxton had grown paranoid and frantic, dragging her quickly home, ignoring her protests.  By the time they reached the tree house, Marguerite had swollen ankles and blisters.  Roxton felt guilty over her injuries, but still felt justified in his rash decision to rush them home.  Marguerite – though cursing the pain in her feet – couldn't blame him: he was scared.

And it wasn't easy to scare Lord John Roxton.

Roxton strolled out of the children's bedroom, William cradled in his left arm.  He was humming a tune she didn't recognize.  He wasn't the grand singer people would assume he was when they heard him speak in his husky, deep voice.  Yet, his rich voice was soothing and peaceful.

"What are you singing," Marguerite called out softly.

Roxton's head jerked up.  "Oh!  I didn't see you there, Marguerite."  His face now slightly red, he strolled over to where she was.  He knew he shouldn't be embarrassed.  She had caught him singing before.  "It's a lullaby my mother used to sing to me."

"How does it go?"

"Um…well…it's about a mother singing to her crying baby, and a father who…"

"No, John, sing it for me.  I never get to hear you sing."

Roxton lowered himself onto the chair beside her, rocking William gently in his arms.  "I…my voice isn't something to be proud of."

"Please?  You can pretend I'm not here.  Just…sing for your son."

Roxton sighed and fell back against his seat.  "Baloo, my boy, lie still and sleep.  It grieves me sore to hear thee weep.  If thou'lt be silent I'll be glad.  Thy moaning makes my heart full sad."

Marguerite listened intently as he went on singing.  The long lullaby sounded ancient coming off his lips.  By the time he was near the end, Marguerite was lost in his voice.

"…father slain in foreign fight.  He, wounded, stood beside my bed.  His blood ran down upon thy head.  He spoke no word, but looked on me.  Bent low, and gave a kiss to thee!  Baloo, baloo, my darling boy.  Thou'rt now alone thy mother's joy."

Marguerite's mouth dropped.  "Your mother sang that to you?"

Roxton laughed.  "There were others, but that one was her favorite one to sing to me.  William, on the other hand, she sang a different, happier lullaby to."

"Do you remember it?"

"How could I forget?  It reminded me constantly that I wasn't the favored son."

Marguerite tilted her head, panged by his confession.  "I'm sure they loved you just as much."

Roxton shrugged.

"Will you sing it for me?"

"It's an old Gaelic lullaby so don't mind the wordage."  He cleared his throat and began: "Hush ye, my bairnie.  Bonny wee laddie.  When you're a man you shall follow your daddie."  He looked to his wife.  "Sorry, don't remember the rest."   

Marguerite smiled softly.  "It's alright.  I think Will's asleep now.  Why don't you put him to bed and then join me in ours?"

Roxton's eyebrows rose.  "Are you offering yourself to me?"

Marguerite laughed.  "That's a delicate way of putting it."

"What about your sore feet?"

She brushed him off with a wave of her hand.  "Who cares?"

Roxton chuckled, standing up, careful not to wake William.  "Someone's a little anxious."

"Or a little twisted," she mumbled.  Who would've thought John being an adorable father would be arousing?

"What?"

"Nothing.  Go put him to bed."

Moments later he returned and the couple slipped off into their bedroom.

End Chapter Thirteen

Lullabies:

Lady Anne Bothell's Lament written by either Bishop Percy or Joseph Corfe

Hush Ye, My Bairnie (Cagaran Gaolach) written by Henry White