The Lord's Inconvenient Vow

She melted. At least her body turned into warm, melting pudding, but her will held her where she was. He shifted forward and the water lapped at the swells of her breasts, mixing warm water and cool air. His gaze was fixed on them, his lips parted.

‘Come, Sam.’ There was a hot desert wind in those words that had nothing to do with the steam around them. It was so strong inside her she dug her heels in. This mountain goat would not be so easily dislodged.

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘Why not? Do you think you can just appear after two weeks, toss me in a bath and move on? I doubt you ever dared disappear like this on your darling Dora.’

He leaned back.

‘You are quite right, she disappeared on me.’

‘Well, I...what? What do you mean she disappeared on you?’

‘That is not quite accurate. Her mother bundled her off to Bath soon after she gave birth.’

As a distraction, his twist in the confrontation was masterly. Curiosity was the Sinclair Achilles heel.

‘She was ill?’

‘Her mother said she was, but then her mother turned being an imagined invalid into an art form. To be fair Dora suffered while she was carrying and everyone agreed she needed to recover her strength.’

‘But...what of Jacob?’

‘Jacob did well with his nursemaid and me.’

‘And you were...you had no objection?’

His mouth curved and the mockery was all self-targeted.

‘After my anger cooled I discovered having Jacob and Chesham to myself suited me perfectly. You know I am not a sociable fellow, Sam. I’ve just proven that again, haven’t I?’

‘But you were barely married a year when Jacob was born.’

‘True. That says it all, doesn’t it? I warned you, Sam—I win no prizes as a husband. I might have blamed Dora at the time and been only too happy to regain my solitude when she went to Bath, but it was my fault. I married her for all the wrong reasons and then blamed her for my disappointment. She did not deserve that. If I had been a decent man, I would have gone after her and tried to find a middle ground between us. She might have left Chesham, but I didn’t try to fetch her back.’

He was breathing hard, the water rippling with his tension.

‘My only consolation was that she was happier playing the invalid in Bath, just like her mother, and I was happier playing the hermit at Chesham, just like my father. You already know I am not sociable, now you know I am an abysmal husband. You’ve made an ill bargain, Sam.’

Sam stilled. There was agony in his voice, well hidden, but agony. And self-contempt. Even through her anger she felt something shift, like the gears on a clock. The image that had tortured her for years began to crumble—his perfect wife, his perfect life only shattered by the death of their son... The thought that he’d been as disappointed and betrayed as she had been... That he’d been alone with his beloved son, caring for him and watching him die. Alone.

Her arms were aching to reach for him, to wrap themselves around that pain like a blanket and chase away his bitterness at himself. But her own heart was too bruised.

‘I hate that you had to suffer alone, Edge. I wish... But that cannot be an excuse. This has nothing to do with being sociable—it has to do with respect. If you wish to play hermit, you have my leave to do so, within reason, but you will keep me informed so I do not sit every day wondering if you are ill, or suffering, or something terrible has happened. You are not alone any longer...’

He reached forward, his hands closing on her arms, and she fell silent. His eyes were a sharp jade green flickering with firelight.

‘I’m sorry.’

His eyes moved lower, following his fingers as they trailed down her arms, into the water, brushing against her ribs. She covered her abdomen with her arms and he withdrew, his gaze capturing hers.

‘Sam. Are you...are you with child?’

She snapped her arms away so swiftly they hit the sides of the bath.

‘No. No, I’m not.’

‘Are you certain?’

‘Of course I am. I do understand the rudimentary mechanisms of my body, my lord.’

‘Don’t call me that.’ He leaned back, the heat in his eyes completely gone and the sulky curve to his mouth making him look younger.

Her anger faded, beaten back by the memory of her confusion when her monthly course arrived—she’d been relieved because it was too soon to bring a child into their unsettled union   and yet...

They sat for a moment facing each other. Then he rubbed his face, shoving his hands into his damp hair.

‘I’m too tired for this at the moment, Sam. Please, can’t we...just for now cry peace?’

She sighed. She was tired as well. Exhausted.