Mikko was not mindlessly pacing the length of the house in the dark. He was walking carefully navigated circuits at an even pace so that the baby held against his chest would sleep or, at least, not cry. That would mean that his wife and the older children could sleep, and if everyone got some sleep, then things would be better.
He was aware of something else dragging at his attention, but it wasn’t as important as helping the beautiful, week old, rosebud child in his arms sleep.
If Bodram had been that sort of man, he would have flounced away in disgust. Instead, he stalked.
