“Don’t you remember me, sweetheart?” Alyx whispered pleadingly.
The child took another step backward and as Alyx moved forward, Catherine turned and ran, grabbing her father’s legs.
Alyx turned startled eyes up at Raine’s intense blue ones. “I . . . I didn’t see you,” she stuttered. “I thought Catherine was alone.”
Raine didn’t say a word.
Alyx’s heart jumped into her throat and threatened to choke her. “You look well,” she said as calmly as she could.
He bent and picked up his daughter and, jealously, Alyx saw the way Catherine clung to him.
“I wanted you to meet your daughter,” she whispered.
“Why?” he asked and his voice, that deep rich voice she knew so well, nearly made her cry.
But Alyx refused to cry. “Why?” she hissed. “You hadn’t seen your daughter in her entire life and you ask me why I sent her to you?”
His voice, quiet, low, interrupted her. “Why would you send her to a man who deserted you, who left you alone to fight his battles?”
Alyx’s eyes widened.
Raine stroked his daughter’s hair. “She is a beautiful child, kind and giving like her mother.”
“But I’m not—” Alyx began, then stopped as Raine started walking toward her. He passed her, opened the door and handed Catherine to the waiting nurse. “Could we talk?”
Silently, Alyx nodded her head.
Raine walked to the fireplace and studied the blaze for a moment. “I think I could have killed you when you went to the King,” he said with feeling. “It was as if you were announcing to the world that Raine Montgomery couldn’t handle his own problems.”
“I never meant—”
He put up his hand to silence her. “This isn’t easy for me, but it must be said. While we were in the forest it was easy for me to see why people disliked you. You put yourself so above them and they resented you so much. When you came to understand what you were doing you set about to do something about it. You changed, Alyx.”
He paused for a long moment. “It’s not so . . . comfortable to look at myself, to judge myself.”
His broad back was to her, his head low, and her heart went out to him. “Raine,” she whispered. “I understand. You don’t have to say anymore.”
“But I do!” He turned to face her. “Do you think it’s easy for me—a man—to realize that a little bit of a child/woman such as you can do something I can’t?”
“What have I done?” She was genuinely astonished.
At that he paused and smiled, and there was much love in his eyes. “Perhaps I thought I should have my way because I was sacrificing all I had for some filthy beggars. Maybe I liked being a king of criminals.”
“Raine.” She reached out her hand to touch his sleeve.
He caught her hand, raised her fingertips to his lips. “Why did you go to King Henry?”
“To ask him to pardon you. To persuade him to let Elizabeth and Miles marry.”
“It hurt my pride, Alyx,” he whispered. “I wanted to march into King Henry’s chamber wearing silvered armor and talk to the King as an equal.” A dimple appeared in his cheek. “But instead, my wife went and pleaded for me. It hurt very much.”
“I didn’t mean to . . . Oh, Raine, I would beg anyone to save you.”
He didn’t seem to notic
e that his hand was nearly crushing hers. “I have been distorted with pride. I want to . . . ask your forgiveness.”
Alyx wanted to shout that she’d forgive him anything, but now was not the time for flippancy. “In the future I am sure I will do other things to wound your pride.”