Alfred Gaunche watched his pregnant wife sleeping on the daybed in the nursery. The sun poured in from the window and lit her auburn hair. Strands of autumn with flecks of bright gold reflecting off the high curves, so as to mesmerize the viewer and take them off guard. It worked well on him, for he was at peace when he gazed at her. All thoughts escaped him, all troubles dissipated like the morning fog into a clear sky.
She took him to a place where the horizon stretched out forever, to a destination where nothing was denied them. Them. The two as one. Now he had achieved his final goal. Soon she too would have what she wanted as well, a child.
He had not wanted children, not after his own childhood. Thomas knew well the evil hidden within the thoughts of others. Perhaps it would aid him in protecting his own child.
He set his hand on Isabelle’s abdomen and felt the baby kick within.
He would vow to protect the child with his life. There would be no far away boarding schools for this little one. There would never be a time he was so far away he could not protect this child. Girl or boy it did not matter, though secretly Thomas hoped for a girl. Someone Isabelle could dote upon forever and never be made to feel ashamed of it.
Also, he did not want an heir.
Thomas moved away from the two and looked out at the immense grounds at Fairdale Keep. A son would mean many things to him. Someone to teach, to guide, and be a role model for. What would he teach a son? How to kill a man? How to steal from a widow in the dark of night? His life is a past of lies, what inheritance is that for a boy? A girl can marry, she has no need for titles and history.
Also, what of his blood line? Such treachery and deceit ran through these veins, he would pass this curse on to another? This blood that runs like a blacksmiths fire, it had taken him half a lifetime to learn how to contain it. How would he teach another to cull this anger, this hatred of all humanity and it’s kind?
He glanced over his shoulder at his sleeping wife and wondered deep in his heart. ‘What have I done?’ he felt a sting of despair, and the quick suckling of hope after it. But he did not let it sup there for long. He would not loose all he would die for, not for one second of self doubt. For the right or for the wrong, it was done now and there was no undoing it.
