Chapter 22 #2
All was quiet. She couldn’t hear a thing, not even her cat’s purring. Had he stopped? Where was her heartbeat? She blinked and wondered what sort of power Ronan could possibly have.
“May I?” He murmured.
“I…” Retracting her hand, she eyed the pot and cup. Pouring was a lady’s job. But he offered. She nodded and mumbled, “Thank you.”
He gave a slight nod. Was he angry? She glanced at the tea and then back at his inscrutable expression. “I see you enjoy my chai.”
Then he wasn’t mad at her? Isla chewed her bottom lip. “It is delicious. One of the new maids brought it to me, not thinking. I’ve come to enjoy it very much. I… I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.” He leaned back on the loveseat with a serious expression directed at her. “What good is wealth if it’s not put to use? Costs a small fortune to ship it from India. Not the same as drinking it there, of course, but it worth the effort.”
Warming her hands with the cup, she asked, “You have been to India?”
“I spent two months in the Royal Army before being called home,” he said with a bitter-tinged tone.
“Oh. I didn’t know…” She cleared her throat, finding her voice hoarse. Maybe it was best if they didn’t say a word.
Wait a moment. He didn’t speak earlier. When did he come in here? With the tea tray? Surely not before… Why was I so engrossed in my book? It wasn’t even that good. Has he been watching me? Goodness gracious, for how long?
There was no helping the flush that crept up Isla’s cheeks as she recalled how noisily she’d enjoyed slurping her tea. And the reading aloud! What did he think of that? No, it was better not to ask. She didn’t wish to know.
But it would be nice to know more about to him, I find.
Slowly she dared to look back at him from her strong clench of the tea cup she held with both hands. There was another tea cup from which the duke drank. Her husband. How strange to think she had so feared marrying. Now, well, now it merely aggravated her.
There was little fight in her tonight. Enough of a tempest brewed outside. Besides, seated there before her, Ronan didn’t seem that fierce. He often looked like a pirate, yes, but tonight… he looked so very young.
“Do you miss it?” Isla dared to ask in a whisper.
His gaze flickered from her cup to her face. “Some days. It is hard to imagine I was there long enough to miss it, however, and I suppose it is for the best.”
“That you’re here?”
“That I’m here,” he confirmed.
Isla waited for him to go on before realizing he might be expecting her to say something. Was she supposed to reassure him that this was where he belonged? Lately, he didn’t seem particularly thrilled to be here––or to have her here.
“Is there… another place that you do miss?”
“No. Merely another time.”
Words stuck in her throat. She swallowed hard, plying her tongue from the top of her roof. The gentleman was talking to her. He had yet to tell her to do anything, so surely she needed to take advantage of this opportunity. And yet she couldn’t think of what more to say.
“Are you glad to have missed the dinner?” Ronan inquired at last.
“Not particularly. I…” He wouldn’t stop looking at her. Those eyes of his were so blasted blue she could hardly recall there was a storm. He was the sky right then, bright and bold. He stared at her until she couldn’t think of anything.
Except I must leave her at once before I… Oh, I don’t even know.
Scrambling to her feet, she shoved the blankets aside and earned a pouty response from Hector who meowed loudly before slinking off.
As she stood, Ronan copied. And he still wouldn’t stop looking at her.
What was she to him? A rat? A responsibility?
Something better or something worse? Nothing felt like what it had when they were engaged.
“I… Night,” Isla stammered and hastily rounded the furniture to take her leave.
She had to get out of there. This was all she knew. Away from the duke, safe in her room. The hour was late, so she should never have been out this long. What had she been thinking? Huffing to herself, she opened the door and prepared to hasten through the dark to her bedchamber.
Then she glimpsed a white sheet moving and screamed.
“Isla!” Ronan stormed through, his footsteps heavy and loud as he came to her shoulder just as she caught her breath. His hand brushed against hers. A strangled sound escaped him when he realized what had shocked her. “Oliver?”
“Oh good lord,” Isla stammered. A hand over her heart, she threw the man a look of disbelief before moving to Oliver and dipping to her knees. “Oh, Oliver, you poor thing. I am so, so terribly sorry.”
Little Oliver had been rubbing his eyes all caught up in his nightie. Whatever sleep had crusted his gaze must have disappeared the moment she screamed, as he stared widely at the two of them. “I can’t sleep. I’m sorry.”
Oh, those poor R sounds. Always a W. Isla worked with him on words occasionally but couldn’t deny how precious he sounded with them.
She took his chilled hands in hers, smiling as wide as she could muster. The shaking in her body finally calmed. “No, I’m sorry. You surprised me, my dear boy, that is all. You’re not in trouble. Is anything wrong?”
“It isn’t safe to be wandering about in the dark,” Ronan said as he came down on one knee beside Isla. He put his hands, so very big hands, on the boy’s wiry shoulders. “You should have gone to Anne.”
“I’m sorry.” His bottom lip stuck out, and he looked like he might cry.
Isla threw Ronan a stern look who had the decency to look offended. Then the man sighed before wrapping his arms around Oliver and hefting him up into his arms. “Hold on tight. Let’s take you back to bed, shall we? I’m sure we’ll all feel better in the morning.”
“We better,” she muttered under her breath.
The evening had taken such an odd turn that she hardly knew how to manage herself. Though she knew Oliver’s routine often enough, Isla couldn’t help feeling surprised when Ronan knew it as well.
She took Oliver in her arms to rock him for a few minutes while Ronan collected the boy’s little toys. He had a few dolls and toy soldiers and stuffed creatures he liked to cling to, and they all had a space at the end of his large crib.
How did he even climb out? I know it’s low to the ground and quite spacious. He should have been comfortable all night. Oh dear, perhaps it was the storm.
When her gaze turned toward a window that revealed the pelting rain bashing the glass and even a quick lightning strike, she frowned. But not for long. A moment later, she wanted Ronan walk there and use the two rows of curtains to quiet the storm some.
She thanked him with a nod before gazing down to Oliver who had settled down in her arms. He clung to a strand of her hair. The pressure was there on her skull, but not awful. Her sisters had been much worse. No, this little boy was simply a treasure.
“May I?”
Finding Ronan there, arms out and ready, she noted he waited for her approval. She didn’t mind putting Oliver down. But she let Ronan, nodding and carefully trading the child over.
Their child. Some days it still surprised Isla. And then there were moments like this where it simply felt right. While Oliver had not always been a part of her life, he was now, and that was what mattered.
I suppose I forgot about Ronan. And did he forget himself?
She had only brought one candle with them. Rising from the rocking chair, she watched Ronan bend low to settle Oliver, his motions slow and graceful. His hands lingered on the boy’s head for some time as though to keep Oliver calm. Or maybe it was for Ronan.
Unable to help herself, Isla came around the toys to stand beside him. She watched the two-year-old breathe deeply at peace. There wasn’t a trouble in his head now, they had made certain of that. She leaned in, carefully adjusting his blankets with tenderness.
It was such a peaceful moment for them. Isla didn’t know how that could have happened. Was it an accident? Was it bound to have happened eventually?
Gazing over to Ronan’s face in shadow, she couldn’t resist the opportunity she had with him now. There was so much she wanted to know, so many questions that played in the back of her mind.
“I adore his hazel eyes. I was wondering if he gets them from his mother. What was your sister like?”
Her heart puttered to a standstill when she felt him tense beside her. Everything within Isla stalled. She swallowed hard as Ronan pulled away from Oliver.
“That,” Ronan murmured in a flat tone, “is a family matter.”
The coldness emanating from him surprised her. How she wished he wouldn’t try to ruin a moment like this. There was so much they didn’t know about each other. Why couldn’t he just talk to her?
Unable to resist, she gently reminded him, “I am your wife, am I not?”
“I don’t…”
Seeing the way his hands clenched into fists on the railing beside them, Isla gathered her courage to wrap her hands over his. Warmth over the cold. Something felt different tonight between them, and she wanted to understand this. To understand him.
“I only wish,” she started to whisper.
“Well, I do not wish to discuss it,” Ronan hissed. He was a little louder and they heard a shuffling on the bed below. Both of them froze, looking down to Oliver.
The child had turned over to his other side, putting his back to them. But he remained asleep. The deep rise and fall of his body proved that.
And Ronan looked furious. She could see the golden cast of him in the limited candlelight better at this angle.
Before, he was a dark blur. Now, he was…
so much more. So much less. He was a dark angel cast down from the heavens to live in misery.
He was a pirate lost on land with no ship.
He was a duke with everything a gentleman could desire and still so miserable.
Isla inhaled deeply, beginning to realize there was a darkness inside him he didn’t wish to share or remove or heal.
“I understand. You don’t…” The words hurt to say. After all she gave up being here, she was still alone. “I’m still not family. Very well. Good night, Your Grace.”
He flinched at her parting words. But he made no move to stop her when she hastily left the nursery.
Through the darkness Isla went, touching the walls and furniture like Lacey always did, to find her way. Ronan would eventually follow. Their rooms were next to each other, after all. But for all the thin wall that separated them, it could have been an ocean of water for how it felt.
Isla didn’t bother calling her maid. She readied herself for bed with shaking hands and then collapsed in bed. Only a few stray tears escaped. But she welcomed the darkness.
There was a lonely life ready to haunt her, she had learned tonight, and she supposed it was time she made peace with this.