Chapter 18 #2
“The old me would know how to make her laugh and how to assure her happiness… but it is so bloody hard to be solely responsible for a life!” She shocked herself with her somewhat coarse language, hearing Aunt Tabitha’s scolding voice in her head.
Gordon squeezed her hand. “Ye’re doin’ better than ye think. Actually, I think ye ken ye’re doin’ well, but it’s all muddled with everythin’ else. Ye cannae give yerself the credence ye deserve when ye ken it should be someone else in yer place.”
His words could have been her own, voicing what she had been feeling for months.
Even small enjoyments were tainted by the fact that Christine wasn’t there to witness them: every babbling laugh and smile that Lizzy showed, every new thing the baby learned, and all the progress that Christine would miss.
How could Agnes enjoy this unexpected motherhood when Lizzy’s real mother was gone?
“But what if something happens to me?” she continued, unable to stop now.
“What will happen to Lizzy if I am not around? Aunt Tabitha would take care of her, undoubtedly, but that would be an inferior existence. My aunt is strict. She would not speak of Christine, and she would raise Lizzy to be prim and proper and joyless.”
“Nothin’ is goin’ to happen to ye,” he said softly.
She looked at him, shaking her head. “You can’t say that.
No one can say that for certain. Youth is no guarantee of longevity.
Neither is love.” Her voice cracked again.
“Christine should be here… and she is not, and every morning that I wake up and remember, it is like being back in her bedchamber, holding her as she took her last breath.”
“I’m sorry.” Gordon brushed his thumb across her hand.
“She made me promise to take care of Lizzy, and I have and I will, but I don’t think I understood the enormity of the request when I gave her my solemn vow,” Agnes murmured. “I do not think I understood how much… fear would come with adoring that little girl.”
He frowned. “Fear? Because of Edwin?”
“Because of Edwin, because she is choking on her milk, because she is sleeping too quietly, because she has toppled over and hurt herself, because of the myriad things in the world that could kill her or take her from me,” Agnes replied, exhausted by the thought.
“No one tells you how terrifying a baby can be when they are sleeping. They don’t breathe like normal people.
They just… stop and you panic, and then, just when you think you might scream, they breathe again. Babies are cruel.”
A short, sharp bark that might have been a laugh rumbled in Gordon’s chest.
“I know it sounds ridiculous, and I know they do not mean to be, but they really can be very unkind,” she insisted, allowing herself a small smile. “Indeed, when you find yourself with a headache, you can be sure they will scream as loudly as possible.”
“Tiny torturers?”
She nodded. “Exactly. And then they have the gall to smile and giggle, and you have no choice but to forgive everything because they are so adorable. They are masters of manipulation.”
“I’m learnin’ so much,” he teased, his hand still holding hers, anchoring her in that tub of soothing water and tumultuous thoughts.
As some time passed in comfortable quiet, she began to feel better, the heat of the bath and the reassurance of his hand sloughing away the shock of the day and the grief that always followed her around.
When she had needed Gordon, he had appeared. When she had called for him, he had come running. And he was here now, at her side, when she needed him—perhaps even more than in the village.
“I am sorry I did not listen to you,” she mumbled. “You were right to insist on Lizzy and me staying behind. You were right about the dangers, and… I am sorry.”
“Ye didnae ken they would be there,” he said generously. “Me men should have ken of their whereabouts before we left. It’s nae yer fault.”
She did not entirely believe that he wasn’t a little bit angry with her, but she was in no position to refuse his kinder sentiments. It was her fault. It was all her fault, but at least everyone was safe.
“Come, ye should rest.” He rose to his feet and pulled a thick bath sheet from the rack by the fire, where it had been warming. “I’ll keep me eyes closed,” he promised again.
And again, she felt the sudden urge to tell him not to. Had he not seen almost everything anyway at the loch? Did it really matter? Was a kiss not more intimate than seeing her naked? Was his exploring touch not more improper?
Would seeing me entirely bare encourage him to touch me again? To kiss me again?
Her heart fluttered at the thought, her relaxed body yearning for the comfort of proximity, needing to feel something more powerful than the unpleasantness of the day and the fear of what might come next, with three men dead.
But his eyes were already closed, and he was holding out the bath sheet for her to step into. Not an invitation to repeat last night’s fervor, but a literal barrier between them.
She clambered out, holding onto his arm for balance, and walked into the welcome embrace of the fire-warmed sheet.
She had not expected him to follow the cloth, his arms wrapping around her, enveloping her in the sheet and his embrace.
His hand gently rubbed her back, half drying her off, a surprisingly sweet gesture from someone who claimed to be a terrible beast.
I knew I was right.
“Ye can sleep here tonight,” he offered. “I’ll take care of Lizzy while ye get some proper rest.”
She peered up at him. “You? Willingly?”
“I’ve fought wars, Sunshine. I think I can handle a tiny bairn for one night.”
She tilted her head to the side, studying him. “You would certainly be the most intimidating nanny a girl could have.”
To her delight, his lips curled into a smile. A genuine smile. Not hidden behind any beard to leave her in doubt, but right there, lighting him up from within and making him so handsome she couldn’t breathe properly.
He knotted the bath sheet and pulled away. “I’ll leave ye to it, then.”
As he turned to leave, she reached for his arm, stopping him.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, frowning.
“Nothing.” She swallowed. “I just… I just want to say thank you. You saved us today, and I shan’t forget it in a hurry.”
She didn’t know what she had expected, whether her gratitude might lead to another kiss or at least some kind remark, but he simply bobbed his head in a nod and stepped out of the room, leaving her just a little more confused than when he had carried her in from the carriage.
How could he have her in his arms one moment and then leave the next? How could he hold her hand and say sweet things to her, then dismiss her thanks?
Maybe I am the only one who is not happy with how last night ended.
Maybe he was truly content to carry on as if nothing had ever happened. And maybe she would have to learn to accept that.
After all, this was just temporary, even if for a moment she had felt like she belonged here.