Chapter 19
Gordon could not accept Agnes’s gratitude. If he had, it would have meant that she owed him something, and he did not want that.
Their arrangement was clear; it did not need amendments or anyone feeling like one was indebted to the other. Otherwise, it might never come to an end… and it had to.
There was no other possibility, regardless of how much he had wanted to make another mistake by peeling away the damp bath sheet and sinking to his knees to kiss between her thighs until her screams of bliss chased off any lingering unease.
He could not, under any circumstances, give in to the desire to claim her, to possess her, to make her cry out his name. Not because she was in trouble, but because she wanted more of him. All of him.
Just being alone in that room with her, glimpsing slick limbs poking out of the milky water of the tub, had been a form of torture. One that he did not yet know how to shake off.
She felt so good in me arms.
He growled away his frustration as he marched on toward the makeshift nursery, where he hoped that watching over Lizzy would be enough to distract him from thoughts of her aunt.
“How is she?” Iona asked as he entered the room.
“Hopefully gettin’ some rest.” He wandered to the cradle where Lizzy slept. “I told her I’d watch the bairn tonight.”
The housekeeper rested a tentative hand on his arm. “What happened, me Laird? Is she hurt? Should I send for a healer?”
“Nay, she’s nae hurt,” he replied. “A few bruises.”
The image of Agnes’s bare shoulders flashed into his mind. He had wanted to dip his head and kiss her bruises, only just managing to stop himself.
“I think it’s the memory of it that will take longer to recover from,” he added, before explaining what had occurred at the village. The three dead Englishmen that someone would eventually miss, and he would have to answer for.
If anyone is foolish enough to dare approach me territory.
There was a strange security in being infamous, an added layer of protection to defend his clan and anyone who might wander up and plead for help.
Iona pulled a face. “She must have been terrified.”
“Aye, she was.” He watched the baby sleeping, wondering when he had slept so peacefully. He could not remember.
“Are ye sure she’ll want to sleep alone?” Iona asked in an odd tone.
Gordon shot her a warning look. “She doesnae have another choice, unless ye’re offerin’ to stand guard over her?”
“I wouldnae mind watchin’ the bairn if ye might like to stand guard over her,” Iona countered, feigning innocence.
“She’ll be fine,” he muttered, and walked to the window to look out at the early evening sky.
The sun had not even set yet; the hour still early. It jarred him that it wasn’t dark, when the day had seemed so long already, and the shuttered bedchamber he had just left had been gloomy enough to mimic nighttime.
Should I have invited Agnes to dine with me first?
He felt a little strange about encouraging her to sleep when it wasn’t late, but all he had to do was conjure her tired, heavy-lidded expression, and he knew it was what she needed.
As for what he needed…
“Go on. Go and tend to yer duties,” he instructed the housekeeper. “I can manage from here. But if ye find yerself in the kitchens, somethin’ to eat wouldnae go amiss.”
Iona chuckled and went to the door. “I’ll bring ye up some stew, me Laird.” She paused on the threshold. “Daenae wake the bairn.”
“I daenae plan to,” Gordon replied, glancing over at the crib. “I’m just goin’ to stand guard over her, so she kens she’s safe.”
A soft, sad smile lifted Iona’s wrinkled lips. “I’m sure she’ll sleep well, just sensin’ that ye’re there.”
After what had happened today, and Agnes’s anguished confessions, he didn’t intend to allow any harm to come to the little girl ever again. No matter how many Englishmen he had to kill to keep her safe. Indeed, even if it meant killing the one Englishman that Agnes had asked him not to.
Agnes awoke in a cold sweat, breathing hard, though whatever dream had plagued her had not followed her into the waking world.
She pushed herself up from the soft mattress and stared around in momentary confusion, her gaze landing on the smoldering fireplace. It did not resemble that of home, nor of her new chambers, reminding her that she had gone to sleep in Gordon’s room again.
What on earth did he put in that bath?
Her body felt like a lead weight, her head foggy, both restless and rested somehow. Beyond the shutters, she had no notion of what time of day it was, and it was too dark in the room to read the clock on the mantelpiece.
She could easily have leaned back and descended into sleep again, but something had chilled her. Something that lurked in the realm of slumber.
“Well, that is that then, isn’t it?” she muttered groggily.
There was no possible way that she could drift off again, not if something unpleasant awaited her when she closed her eyes.
She pushed back the coverlets and climbed out of bed, taking a housecoat off a stand by the door as she headed out. It was too large for her, yet too small to belong to Gordon, but she rather enjoyed the swamped sensation as she padded along the hallway.
Her plan was to poke her head into Lizzy’s room to see how the new, devilishly handsome nursemaid was faring, and then she would either offer to take over or head downstairs to get something to eat.
Although, really, it was pure curiosity that drove her toward the nursery.
Passing the windows, still undraped, she discovered that night had indeed fallen over this corner of Scotland. A twilight hue, suggesting it was not yet terribly late. Either that, or she had somehow slept until dawn and that inky tinge was dawn coming.
Surely not.
She quickened her pace, not caring for the shadows that wavered in the corners and recesses of the drafty castle.
At length, she reached the chamber that she was supposed to be sleeping in and slipped in through the main door.
On tiptoe, she approached the adjoining door, left slightly ajar, and peeked through it.
There was every chance that Gordon had already heard her coming, but she hoped he had not, eager to see him in a less guarded situation.
“And the great dragon roared, ‘What are ye doin’ in me cave, little mouse?’” she heard him say in a growl.
What on earth is he doing? He will terrify my niece with that—
Lizzy burst into burbling giggles, and Agnes’s jaw dropped.
“And the wee lassie looked right into the dragon’s one amber eye and said, ‘I’m nae a mousie, ye great oaf! I’m a lassie! Have ye never seen a lassie before? For one thing, I daenae have a tail, and I daenae squeak about.’ Well, ye can imagine what the dragon thought of that,” Gordon continued.
Agnes covered her mouth with her hand to stifle a laugh. Of all the things she had expected to find, she had not expected to hear Gordon making up stories for her niece. Nor had she expected him to be quite so enthusiastic about the voices.
Although she rather liked his commanding heroine.
“In truth, the dragon didnae ken what to make of the strange wee creature that had come into his cave, brandishing her wee sword and callin’ him an oaf,” Gordon said.
“It was the first time anyone had visited him in a long, long time, so he’d forgotten how to behave with company.
Nor could he remember what to do with humans.
Was he supposed to eat them or offer them food?
He kent he was meant to eat mousies, but this creature claimed she wasnae one, leavin’ him quite confused. ”
Deciding she ought to intervene before anyone got eaten, Agnes knocked gently on the door and stepped inside.
Gordon sat on the floor beneath the window, with Lizzy in his lap… and a surprisingly familiar, furry creature fast asleep at his feet.
“I just came to see how you were faring,” Agnes said, amused that Lizzy was wide awake.
Gordon looked awkward for a moment. “She woke up, had her milk, and now I’m tryin’ to get her to sleep again.”
“Well, it seems someone is enchanted by your stories.” Agnes nodded toward the fox cub at his feet. “How is it that Snout is here too?”
“Iona brought him in,” he replied gruffly. “Said she’d be back for him, but that was two hours ago.”
Agnes crouched and gently stroked the creature’s head. “I am surprised you have not kicked him out yet, poor thing.”
“Ye said the bairn liked it,” he replied with a shrug. “If me stories didnae work, I was goin’ to put him in the cradle with yer niece, see if he couldnae get her to sleep.”
Agnes smiled. “And if he bit her?”
“Ye and Iona were the ones who said he could be trusted. It would be on the pair of ye.”
She chuckled. “That is fair.”
Although I already know you would not let any harm come to me or my niece.
The fox cub barely stirred, enjoying his gentle scratches. A sweet-natured creature, if ever Agnes had seen one, so it was only right that dear Snout had decided to sleep at the feet of an equally sweet-natured creature. A Wolf and a fox. An unlikely pair, perhaps, but it made perfect sense to her.
“Thank you for letting Snout stay,” she said, holding out her arms for Lizzy. “I think all beings deserve a chance at a good life, and this little fox will surely have his chance now.”
Gordon narrowed his eyes. “I maintain that he’s goin’ to eat Iona’s chickens, and then she’ll be the one throwin’ him back into the woods where he came from.”
She frowned at him for a moment. Was he incapable of accepting gratitude? Is that why he had ignored her thanks before? He seemed to be ignoring it again, making light of it.
“Thank you for making up such wonderful stories for my niece, and thank you for taking care of her. I can already tell she is sleepy again.” Agnes rose to her feet with the baby in her arms. “Truly, thank you for offering to help.”
Gordon stood up too. “The stories werenae made up.”
There it was again, his rejection of her gratitude.
“Oh? Is it a Scottish story I don’t know?” she asked, perplexed.
“I daenae ken,” he muttered, turning his back to her and fixing his gaze on the twilight landscape beyond the window.
“Well, thank you for telling it to her. I could hear how much she enjoyed it,” Agnes pressed.
But once again, he ignored her thanks and said nothing.
Puzzled and slightly annoyed, she carried Lizzy to the cradle and laid her down. Lizzy gave a dozy smile and stretched her mouth wide in a yawn, her eyes fluttering shut.
It never failed to fascinate Agnes just how quickly babies could fall asleep. She had envied Lizzy for that ability more times than she cared to count, though it seemed particularly enviable tonight.
“Have you ever noticed that children are able to fall asleep quickly?” she asked. “They just… doze off. No thoughts, no worries, no troubles, no obstacles. They just close their eyes, and there they go, into the land of Nod.”
“I cannae say I have,” he replied stiffly.
Agnes tucked a blanket around Lizzy. “I wish I could do that.”
“Did ye nae rest?” His tone changed, carrying a hint of interest.
“I did, but I doubt I will be able to sleep again tonight,” she told him with a somewhat heavy sigh. “You see, I had a bad dream, and now I am too afraid to sleep alone. Perhaps that sounds silly to you, who is probably not afraid of anything, but alas…”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him turn.
“I’m nae tuckin’ ye in,” he said, though she couldn’t see enough of his face to know if he was teasing her or not.
She chuckled anyway. “I would not dream of asking.” She paused. “But I did want to ask if… you might stay with me tonight.”