Chapter Seventeen
Duncan had returned to the inn to fetch his things after Wakefield and Felicity had both been horrified that he had not intended to stay with them at Wakefield Manor.
Even though Merry hadn’t seemed entirely pleased with the idea, she, too, had agreed that the village would latch on to the unusual arrangement with his staying at the inn and swirl it into all manner of unpleasant rumors.
Now, he was on his way back, allowing Spartan to make the return trip at a leisurely pace.
This situation could either be good or disastrous, because Wakefield Manor was much smaller in scale compared to the estates owned by the area’s nobles.
It had once been the home of Drake’s father, who had not been a noble but a member of the gentry.
With one of the bedchambers turned into a nursery, and one being prepared for the soon-to-arrive nurse and wet nurse, the only remaining place for Duncan to stay was in the same guest bedchamber as Merry.
He didn’t relish the thought of sleeping on the floor, but if she insisted, he would.
Maybe. At least for a time. He’d about had his fill of this unpleasantness of his own making.
Risks of the future be damned—his marriage was about to change for the better.
He just prayed he hadn’t left it too late.
The same lad who had taken Spartan around to the stables the first time took him again, and Yateston, the butler, had a footman take Duncan’s things up to the room he would soon share with his lovely wife.
Since Merry was once again in the nursery, Duncan joined her, easing into the room and remaining by the door when she glared at him from the rocker and mouthed, Be quiet.
The wee bairn had been on another tirade, howling like an angry wraith rising from the grave.
The angel finally slept now, but fitfully so.
Once Merry had successfully placed the child in the cradle, she motioned for him to follow her into the hallway just outside the door. “I assume you fetched your things?”
“Aye, Wakefield’s footman took them to yer room.” He waited for her ultimatum. Her flashing eyes and tense stance gave away her hunger for battle.
“There are only chairs in there. No settees. Not even a cushioned window seat.” She folded her arms and jutted her chin higher. “The one small rug is beside the bed. And it is thin. Hardly suitable for sleeping.”
“I dinna intend to sleep on the rug.”
“So, you will sleep in one of the chairs?”
“No.”
She narrowed her eyes, suspicion filling her face. “My vow still holds.”
“I can sleep in the bed without touching ye, wife.” That was a lie, but he’d not retract it. “Yer vow shall remain intact.” He hoped that was a lie as well.
“I shall ask Mrs. Pepperhill for additional pillows and blankets. We can build a wall between us.”
“We already have a wall between us,” he said, daring her to deny it.
“That wall is not of my doing.” She eyed him like a beautiful beastie backed into a corner.
“No.” He lifted both hands in surrender. “It is my doing, and I regret it more than ye will ever know.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Exactly what I said.”
She glared at him harder. He could almost see her thoughts whirling in the sapphire blue of her eyes. She nay trusted him, and he didn’t blame her. But this time, he would prove her wrong. He just prayed that someday he wouldn’t regret it.
Shunning the demons stirring his fears, he pulled in a deep breath and held fast. “I regret what I did to us.”
Her glare softened, and she reached up to touch his cheek. “I have never stopped loving you.”
“And for that, I am grateful, because I have only come to love ye more.” He couldn’t begin to express the depth of his love for her.
An angry yowl came from the other side of the closed nursery door.
“Our wee niece is not happy.”
With a weary sigh, Merry hurried into the nursery and picked up the wailing child. “Oh my goodness, is it that terrible, sweet Abby? What in heaven’s name is wrong?”
Duncan followed, unable and unwilling to spend a moment out of Merry’s presence. “I dinna think she likes to be alone,” he said. “Look how she quieted so quickly as soon as she heard your voice.”
“Maybe she is frightened when she’s alone.” Merry settled back into the rocker with the babe, patting and shushing the softly fretting child. “Not that long ago, she spent every moment with her mother, and now, since her birth, I imagine the world seems quite cold and forbidding.”
Duncan knelt beside them, cupping the infant’s velvety head in his palm. “The world is cold and forbidding. I dinna blame her.” He pulled up a cushioned stool that was entirely too short for his long legs and settled on it.
Merry rewarded him with a quiet chortle. “You look like a grasshopper with your legs folded up under your chin like that.”
“And ye are the fairy princess come to the meadow to enchant all who see ye.”
She shook her head, smiling down at the finally peaceful infant. “Whatever am I going to do with you, my lord?”
“Whatever ye wish, as long as ye let me stay at yer side.”
Suddenly serious, she slowed the gentle movement of the rocker. “I do love you.”
“Good, because I love ye more.” A sense of peace settled over him as he sat there with Merry and the babe in the nursery. He couldn’t explain it and had no desire to. All he knew was that he liked it and never wished for it to end.
Merry shifted with an endearing yet very unladylike yawn. “Good heavens, I am about to rock myself to sleep, but I’m afraid to try putting her in the cradle. Felicity was up all night with her again and needs at least a few hours of rest.”
Unfolding himself from the short stool, he held out his hands. “Give the wee lassie to me. She liked me well enough the other day. Maybe she and I can rock for a while and get to know one another better.”
Merry gave him a dubious look. “Are you certain?”
“If I was not certain I’d not ask, now, would I?” He tipped a nod at a chaise longue beside the hearth. “Rest yerself for a bit. Ye look weary.”
“That is a terrible thing to say to a woman. Are you telling me I look haggard?”
Heaven help him and his sorry mouth. “Nay, my love. Ye are beauty itself. Ye merely seem a bit tired.” He wiggled his fingers, still reaching for the babe. “Give me the bairn, aye?”
Still eyeing him with a look that said he was not forgiven, she eased the sleeping child into his arms, then pushed up from the rocker. “Remember to mind her little head.”
“Aye, my own. I remember.” He rested the babe in the crook of his arm and settled her against his chest. “See? Now go. Lay ye down and dinna snore. Ye might wake the bairn.”
“I do not snore.”
“Aye, ye do. I remember from the inn and that first night we spent together. Ye did yerself proud with fine, fierce snores that night.”
“Hmpf!” She fetched a blanket from the back of a chair, settled on the chaise, and covered herself to her chin.
Duncan couldn’t help but stare, soaking in the wonder of this woman who had captured him heart and soul.
Then the baby grunted and squirmed, demanding his attention.
“Now, now, Mistress Abby. Yer Uncle Duncan has ye. Rest yerself so ye will grow big enough to play with that ridiculous doll I brought ye.”
The defiant angel opened her eyes and stared up at him, pulling all manner of expressions as she studied him.
“Ye’ve eyes like yer auntie,” he said ever so softly. “Blue as sapphires and bright as the stars in the sky.”
The plump pink bow of her mouth pooched with a tiny pout, then she yawned, wrinkling her nubbin of a nose and fisting her little hands.
“Aye, ye see there? Ye need to sleep, child. Listen to yer Uncle Duncan. I am the wisest man ye will ever meet.”
A snort came from the chaise longue.
“Yer Auntie Merry thinks so too, even though she’ll not admit it,” he said.
“I just hope she knows how much I love her, and how verra sorry I am for listening to my demons rather than her.” He put his little finger in the baby’s palm and swallowed hard as her perfect little fingers closed around it and held on tightly.
“Demons are a terrible thing, lassie. If ye ever come upon one, ye call me, aye? I’ll hunt down the bastard and slay it for ye.
” He wrinkled his nose. “Sorry. Dinna ever use the word bastard. ’Twould not be ladylike or proper. ”
With his finger clutched ever so snugly in her hand, little Abby gradually relaxed and finally dropped off into a deeper slumber.
“There now, my fine wee one,” he whispered. “Sleep well. The angels and Uncle Duncan are watching over ye.”
Merry appeared at his side and rested a hand on his shoulder. “Well done, Uncle Duncan, wisest of the wise.”
“Ye are supposed to be resting.”
“When I try to nap, it always eludes me.” She gently released his finger from Abby’s grasp and lifted the babe from his arms. “Shall we try the cradle again?”
“Whatever ye think, my own.”
She settled the cherub into her bed, then eased a few steps back and waited. No sound came from the cradle. Miss Abigail Jennette was finally fast asleep.
Then Merry turned and held out her hand. When he took it, she led him over to the chaise and pulled him down beside her. Nestling against him, she wrapped his arm around her. “I have missed you, my champion.” But she sounded sad.
“Merry.”
She snuggled closer, resting her head on his chest. Her delectable fragrance of lilacs had softened and mixed with the indescribable scent of the wee babe, an intoxicating blend of all that was new and right with the world, an aroma of possibilities. “Yes?”
“Dinna be unhappy.”
“I am not—”
“Dinna lie to yer husband.”
She shifted against him with a heavy sigh. “I want us to be whole rather than fractured.”