Chapter 15 #2
“We do not yet know that he is stray,” she said. “That is why I wished to ask whether any neighboring estate keeps dogs. He may have wandered.”
“There is no neighboring estate near enough for a dog this size to wander from.”
Aaron’s eyes brightened with dangerous hope. “Then he has n-nowhere else to-to go!”
Rowan saw the trap the instant the boy spoke. Emmeline saw it too, and had to press her lips together to keep from smiling.
“That is not what I said,” Rowan replied.
“B-but it is true,” Aaron insisted, and the words came quickly now, almost clear in their urgency. “He was alone. And he was cold, a-and frightened. And Comet likes him!”
Rowan blinked. “Comet?”
“My horse.”
“Your wooden horse has offered an opinion?”
Aaron nodded earnestly. “Yes.”
Emmeline lost the battle with her smile.
Rowan’s gaze cut to her, and that almost undid her smile entirely for a different reason.
There was annoyance in him, certainly, but something warmer moved beneath it. His eyes held hers for a beat too long, and the air around her seemed to tighten.
Aaron looked between them, sensing something but not understanding it.
“I will help care for him.” Emmeline softened her voice before the boy could grow anxious. “Aaron and I both will. He can be kept in the stable at first if you prefer, with blankets and proper food, and we shall make inquiries in the village to be certain no one has lost him.”
Aaron nodded vigorously. “I will feed him. And brush him. And teach him not to chew anything important.”
Rowan gave the puppy a deeply skeptical look. “He appears capable of chewing many important things.”
“He is capable of learning,” Emmeline said.
Rowan’s gaze lifted back to hers.
His expression shifted almost imperceptibly, and for a moment she felt again the strange ache she had known when he kissed her. Here was another small test, another chance for him to choose the boy before the fear.
Aaron’s arms tightened around the puppy. “Please, Father.”
The plea was small, but the word was clear, no stammer.
Rowan’s whole face altered for the briefest moment, eyes widening. He looked at Aaron and the tension in his shoulders eased by a degree so slight that perhaps only Emmeline, who had been studying every guarded inch of him, would notice.
The puppy chose that moment to yawn.
Aaron looked down at it, then back up. “He needs us.”
The hall went very quiet.
Rowan’s mouth tightened. He looked away once, toward the open doorway and the sweep of lawn beyond. At last, he sighed.
“Not in my bedroom,” he said.
Aaron went utterly still. “What?”
“The dog is not to enter my bedroom.”
Aaron’s face began to brighten.
“Nor my study,” Rowan added sharply.
Emmeline could not stop the warmth that spread through her.
“And he will be examined,” Rowan continued, turning his head toward a nearby footman. “Send to the village for Mr. Clay. If he is unavailable, fetch the farrier and have him recommend someone who can tell whether the animal is healthy.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” the footman said at once and hurried off.
Aaron stared at his father as though he had just performed a miracle.
“We m-may keep him?” he whispered.
“For now,” Rowan said. “If he destroys anything of value, I shall reconsider.”
Aaron shifted the puppy carefully to one arm and then, before anyone could move, threw himself against Rowan.
Emmeline’s heart stopped.
Rowan froze completely. The boy’s thin arms wrapped around his father’s waist as best they could, puppy squirming between them, and Aaron pressed his face into Rowan’s coat with a small, breathless sound.
“Thank you,” Aaron said, muffled and breathless. “Thank you, Father.”
Rowan stood frozen in place. His hands hovered uselessly at his sides. His eyes, suddenly almost alarmed, lifted to Emmeline. For one suspended moment, he looked less like a duke than a man confronted with a language he had never been taught.
Emmeline’s chest tightened with such painful tenderness that all her anger faltered.
She lifted one hand slightly and mouthed, “Hug him.”
Rowan stared at her.
Then, slowly, awkwardly, he lowered one hand to Aaron’s head. His palm settled too carefully against the boy’s dark hair, then moved once in a stiff, uncertain pat. Aaron did not seem to mind. If anything, he pressed closer, his delight too great to notice the clumsiness.
Emmeline had to look away for a moment because her eyes stung.
When she looked back, Rowan was still watching her over Aaron’s head.
Something had changed in him, as if some old locked thing had heard a key turn somewhere far away.
The puppy wriggled, nearly escaping the folds of Aaron’s arm, and the boy released his father with a startled laugh. “He wants the garden.”
“He wants a bath,” Rowan said.
“Both,” Aaron replied, so quickly and clearly that Emmeline smiled before she could stop herself.
Rowan looked down at his son, and this time the sternness in his face did not quite form.
“Miss Harrow,” he said, though his voice was less severe than usual. “Take Lord Aaron and the creature to the rear garden. Have a maid bring warm water. Outside.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Aaron began to hurry away, then paused and turned back to Emmeline. “Will you come?”
“Yes,” she said. “I’m right behind you.”
Aaron nodded and followed Miss Harrow toward the rear of the house, already whispering possible names to the puppy.
When they disappeared, the hall seemed larger.
Emmeline turned to Rowan. She remained silent, and so did he, for several seconds. Servants had retreated. Morning light lay across the floor between them, pale and clear, as if the house were waiting to see which of them would break the silence first.
His eyes held hers, and heat gathered in the space where tenderness had been.
Her body remembered everything. The roughness of his kiss. The ghost of his knuckles on her cheek. The way he had looked at her throat as though it took all his strength not to lower his mouth there again.
She should have stepped away from that memory. Instead, she stood still and let it move through her.
Rowan’s gaze dropped to her lips for a second, then back to her eyes. Emmeline felt the look pass over her face, her mouth, the place where anger and tenderness had both failed to hide themselves. Her breath caught, but she did not look away, even as her chest tightened.
She wanted to say something. She wanted to tell him that this was what Aaron needed. Not grand gestures or perfection. Only small permissions. A puppy. A laugh. A father who did not turn every feeling into a rule.
But the words stayed in her throat, because Rowan was looking at her as though he understood too much already.
Emmeline’s expression softened before she could stop it.
She gave him one small, careful nod, with a smile that held no triumph. Only acknowledgment and a fragile offering of peace.
You did well.
The words were not spoken, but she felt them pass between them all the same.
Rowan’s shoulders eased by the smallest degree. His gaze dropped from hers, then returned, darker now, affected in a way he clearly did not wish her to see.
Emmeline’s pulse gave one painful thud.
Then Aaron laughed again from the garden, bright and clear, calling for her.
She turned before the moment could become too much. Her skirts whispered over the floor as she followed the sound of the boy and the puppy into the sunlight.
Behind her, she felt Rowan watching. And this time, he did not turn away.