Chapter 34
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
The ball had passed in a blur of emotion and dancing and eating more ices than Octavia had ever eaten in her life. For when she was putting flavored ice into her mouth, it was a good enough excuse not to talk to her husband.
“I think I might retire for the evening,” she said, at last, when she could not bear the silence anymore.
Not because of its innate quiet, but because she could not sit there a moment longer, loving him, and not tell him that she did. It was unfair.
Malcolm rose to his feet. “Too many ices, love?”
“I do feel a little… unusual,” she replied, managing a smile.
“Do ye want me to escort ye? Do ye need anything?”
His kindness made her heart sore. Maybe Evelyn had been right; maybe this version of Malcolm was the real one, a blend of the old and the new, no longer weighed down by his past.
She shook her head. “No, thank you. I shall be quite all right.” She paused. “Thank you for a lovely evening, Malcolm.”
“Thank ye for the dances,” he said, a twinkle in his eyes.
“Indeed.” She laughed stiffly. “I did not trip after all.”
“I would nae have let ye.”
She believed him, she really did, and yet she still could not get herself to say how she felt.
The idea of admitting her feelings felt too enormous, like she would be setting herself up for a greater disappointment.
Since the incident that Laurence had saved her from, she had promised herself she would never be vulnerable in a gentleman’s presence again.
Confessing her love? That was a vulnerability she could not yet permit.
So, with a bob of her head, she walked away from him and headed up the stairs to the bedchamber where she would sleep alone. Selina had received her letter in time and, fortunately, had had a room to spare.
Octavia awoke to a peculiar sound: the happy shriek of children.
For a moment, she was disoriented, forgetting that she was not at Huntfield but at Selina’s manor in Dorset.
A dream she had been having had leaked into the real world somehow; a dream of more children, belonging to Octavia and Malcolm, a dream of a large family that filled the hallways of Huntfield with laughter and joy.
Puzzled, she got out of bed and padded over to the window.
Oh, my goodness…
Out there on the lawns that ran straight to the cliff’s edge were five children, relishing in the drama of being chased by none other than Malcolm. It appeared to be a game involving a wolf, if his roars and snarls were anything to judge by.
He stood there for a while with his back turned to the children as they crept toward him. Then, all of a sudden, he whirled around and began the chase, and the children were delighted, dispersing like startled rabbits.
Octavia recognized one of the children as Selina’s son, two of them were dressed less formally and must have belonged to someone on the staff, while the other two were her very own cousin’s children.
I should have brought Simon. She had not realized it was allowed. More than that, however, she had not realized that Frances and Dominic were in attendance. She had not seen them last night.
Perhaps they had arrived late, for the ball was supposed to lead into a house party. It was just that Octavia had no intention of staying longer.
A smile played upon her lips as she watched her husband turn his back again, waiting for the children to sneak as close as they dared.
She could see his face, while the children could not, and there was such delight and mischief in his expression that he resembled Simon more than ever.
Imbued with a boyish quality that made her heart soar, for here was a hardened warrior, a scarred man with a scarred past, a soldier who had seen countless atrocities, having the time of his life playing at being a wolf.
How could that not warm her heart?
“Ready or nae!” Malcolm whirled around and ran after the scattering children.
There was no doubt he could have caught every last one of them if he was actually trying, but the fun was in letting them believe they were quicker, wilier.
And they seemed to have a ‘safe spot’ in the form of a fountain.
As long as they were inside the ring of the fountain, they could not be eaten by the wolf.
“My tummy is grumbling!” Malcolm growled. “How many tasty rabbits shall I have?”
The children screamed gleefully.
“You won’t catch me!” one shouted.
“I won’t be breakfast!” said another.
“Toothless old wolf!” barked a third. One of Francis and Dominic’s.
Octavia laughed, and could not help but imagine her husband on the lawns of Huntfield, playing this very game with a horde of children of his own.
Five would be a pleasant number, she daydreamed.
As she watched, enchanted, Dominic appeared and, somehow, got himself roped into the game.
Octavia could not believe it, for though her cousin was gentle and playful with his own children, he was not the sort of man who played games in full view of others or allowed himself to be silly in public.
But soon enough, there were two wolves, and the rabbits were doubly ecstatic, until this entire corner of the world seemed to be filled with pure joy and laughter.
“I have married the very best of men,” she whispered, slightly choked up. “Heaven help me, I love him so.”
Still warmed by the sight that had woken her that morning, Octavia was in a lighter mood as the carriage made the long journey back home. She had managed to nap for several hours, and the nerves that she had arrived in Dorset with had been left there on the cliffside.
Evelyn, too, seemed to be in good spirits. “I cannot wait to be in my own bed. I cannot stay in other bedchambers the way I used to.”
“I slept surprisingly well last night,” Octavia said, as she watched a darkened world go by the window.
She had no notion of the time, but it was certainly late, and she had the sense that they were almost at Huntfield. Simon would be asleep when they returned, so she would have to wait until morning to hold him in her arms again.
“Did your husband have anything to do with that?” Evelyn asked slyly.
Octavia shot her a look. “No, he did not. We had our own chambers, and we kept to them.”
“Just a question, dear one,” Evelyn said, laughing, her hands up in a gesture of surrender. “And a question that should not be so unexpected, considering how many times the two of you danced last night. You seemed very… close. It was lovely to behold.”
Octavia could not argue with that. She had spent all evening with her husband, whether they were dancing or just sitting together.
“I know you will tell me off for saying this again,” Evelyn continued, “but can you truly not forgive him? Can you really not accept him back into your life, into your house?”
But Octavia had no desire to scold her friend, not this time.
“In truth,” she said haltingly, “I am… scared.”
Evelyn leaned forward, her hand coming to rest on Octavia’s knee. “Scared? What do you mean? Are you scared of him?”
“No, nothing like that.” Octavia smiled sadly. “I am scared of what I feel. I am scared that… he might break my heart and my trust. I am scared of… of loving him, because the feeling is so… vast and intense and…”
A startling bark of a shout and a terrible scream severed the conversation.
She heard frantic hoofbeats and the crunch of gravel, but she could see nothing in the dark. Yanking down the window, she stuck her head out… and realized that they were on the driveway of Huntfield, the carriage jolting to a sharp standstill.
Suddenly brimming with dread, she shoved the carriage door open and jumped down, running to see what the ruckus was.
A moment later, she wished she had not.
There was a large shape on the ground, just in front of the hooves of the carriage horses. The anxious beasts stamped the gravel before the driver deftly urged them to walk backward, putting more space between those hooves and the shape on the ground.
Just then, from within that dark blob, a familiar cry sobbed out, “I am scared, Papa.”
“Oh my goodness!” Octavia yelped, darting closer. “Simon? Simon, are you well?”
The black shape unfurled to reveal Malcolm in his long coat, holding Simon tightly in his arms.
Meanwhile, the driver jumped down and came running. “I’m so sorry, Your Grace,” he blurted out, his face pale even in the low light. “He came out of nowhere. I didn’t see him. I swear, I didn’t see him.”
“Simon, what did you do?” Octavia demanded to know, as she sank to her knees and held onto his arms, searching her beloved boy’s face for any sign of injury.
“I hid,” the boy sobbed. “Wanted to be first to see you.”
“He just… came out of nowhere,” the driver croaked, running a shaky hand through his hair.
“Papa grabbed me,” Simon murmured. “I am not hurt.”
Octavia quickly put the pieces together: her son had shot out of the shadows to try and greet the carriage as it arrived, putting himself in danger of being trampled by the horses.
She realized what the other hoofbeats must have been: Malcolm and Rogue, spotting the danger before anyone else, and that crunch of gravel must have been Malcolm throwing himself in front of the carriage to grab their son, to keep him safe, even if it meant him being trampled.
It was at that moment that she realized that her husband had not yet spoken.
“Malcolm?” She stood to her full height, her hands reaching for his face. “Malcolm, are ye well? Are ye hurt? Are ye—”
A gasp escaped her lips as she saw the blood, glistening in the hazy silver light of a half moon. It trickled down from his forehead, a rivulet meandering down the side of his face.
“Evelyn! Evelyn, bring me a handkerchief!” she yelled.
But it was Hugo, who had been riding some distance behind, who got there first. “What is the matter?”
“He is hurt,” Octavia choked. “My husband is hurt.”
She grabbed the handkerchief from her brother’s breast pocket and pressed the silk cloth to Malcolm’s brow.
His hand gently encircled her wrist. “I’m fine, love. It’s just a scratch.”
“Did you hit your head? Do you remember me? Do you know who I am? Do you remember what you said to me last night at the ball?” she asked in desperation, knowing she would not forgive herself if he had forgotten everything all over again, and she had not told him that she loved him.
Malcolm laughed softly. “I ken ye, love. A bit of gravel caught me, that’s all.” He nodded toward the horses. “And I got a shove from those beasts, but I’m fine. They didn’t stamp on me.”
“I have a scrape!” Simon said suddenly, as if he wanted to be part of it.
With a gentle authority, Hugo took hold of his nephew’s hand as Evelyn took the other, and said, “Let us go into the house and get that scrape cleaned, while your mama helps your papa.”
“No!” Simon tried to argue, but Evelyn swooped in.
“The cook will be baking bread at this hour. Maybe, she will give you a currant bun for being so brave.”
The child seemed to consider the idea, and nodded. “I will come with you, Auntie Evie.”
With a nod to Octavia, Evelyn and Hugo led Simon toward the soft lights of the house, leaving Octavia and Malcolm alone on the driveway.
Meanwhile, the driver rather sheepishly got back onto the driver’s bench and began to guide the carriage toward the stables, carefully maneuvering around the couple.
“You could have been killed,” Octavia rasped, her hand still pressing the handkerchief to his cut. “I could not have borne it if… anything were to happen to you.”
“And I couldn’t have borne it if anything happened to our boy,” he replied gently. “I don’t ken where the lad was hiding, but he really did appear out of nowhere. It’s lucky I saw him when I did.”
Breathing hard, Octavia could not get herself to calm down. “I have never been so angry with him. I almost shouted at him.”
“Aye, I’ve learned that that can happen when ye’re still feeling the fear of what could have happened,” he said, as he brushed a lock of hair out of her face. “But we’re both fine. I promise.”
“You are bleeding,” she murmured, her voice hitching.
“Have ye seen how many scars I have?” He laughed softly. “A little blood is nothing to me.”
She took hold of his hand and began to pull him toward the manor. “Come, let me tend to you. I cannot fix this with a handkerchief. I cannot see what other harm has been done to you out here.”
“It’s nothing, love,” he urged, but she was not listening, determined to get him inside where she could see for herself.
I almost lost you. The thought circled around and around in her mind, making her realize just how foolish she had been, to be scared of loving him. Living with that faint fear was endlessly better than living without him; it had just taken a brush with death to teach her that.