It was incredible, the immense pull this tiny person had on his heart and his emotions. He had not made a sound, but as he watched, the baby opened his eyes and stared at him. He froze, transfixed by his son’s gaze and the certainty that Samuel was about to cry and wake the nurse.
But the baby didn’t cry. His rosebud mouth stretched in a happy smile, and he gurgled as if delighted to see his papa. It was the first smile his son gave him.
Unable to help himself, he reached out and lifted the baby, cradling him in his arms. The tiny little hands reached for him, clumsily swatting at his face. His heart melted at that moment. He was sure of it. He could actually feel the warmth spreading through his chest. Or maybe the warmth was piss. A startled laugh escaped him, before he reminded himself of the need for absolute silence.
“Oh, you naughty boy,” he whispered. “Is this your idea of a prank?”
“Coo, coo,” the baby gurgled.
“Shh. You must be quiet. Papa is not supposed to be here. This will be our little secret, yes?”
But he was now in a predicament. He couldn’t very well leave his son wet. But how do you change a baby’s nappy? He laid thebaby back down on the crib to figure out the logistics. It seemed straightforward enough. And next to the crib, on a dresser, there were several folded linen cloths. He unfastened the safety pins with relative ease. The nappy took some tucking and folding and tugging to get into position, but he finally managed some decent wrap that he thought would stay in place.
By this time, the baby’s eyes were closing, but he kept blinking sleepily as if not wanting to let go of this moment between them. So he crouched next to the crib and caressed his son’s head, feeling the downy fluff.
“Don’t worry, little one,” he whispered. “Sleep well. Papa will be here tomorrow. And the day after that. I promise.”
The baby finally slept. But Gabriel didn’t sleep. He sat on the chair by the crib and watched his son sleep. After a long time, when he heard the nurse stirring in the room next door, he sneaked back into the tunnel. He watched from the shadows as the young woman came and checked on the baby.
“Well, you sure got your nappy in a twist, didn’t you?” she murmured, making Gabriel smile. If she only knew.
He thought she would nurse Samuel, but she lifted the baby and walked out with him in her arms. He followed her from his place within the tunnels to the duchess’s chamber. When Hannah sat with their son to nurse him, he averted his eyes. It seemed wrong somehow to watch her in secret.
But that night, he learned their routine. And formed a plan to better protect them.
CHAPTER 45
BEFORE EVEN A WEEKhad passed, Hannah was already questioning her decision to send Gabriel away. She missed him with an intensity that only grew stronger each day.
In just a fortnight, it would be Christmas. And then the beginning of a new year. A memory of the last Christmas they spent together almost doubled her over with sadness. Harold had been alive. She had suspected she was enceinte but hadn’t known for sure.
Now Harold was gone, and she had sent Gabriel away. But at least she had her baby in her arms. She lifted him closer and pressed kisses on his downy cheeks. Sammy smiled and stared at her. His eyes resembled Gabriel’s so much... And they looked at her with the same tenderness and adoration.
Perhaps there was a way they could be together? He could visit, or they could meet in secret somewhere... A sense of guilt washed over her as she realized how unjust that was to him. Gabriel didn’t want that. And to be honest, neither did she. He didn’t deserve to be a secret.
She put her son to her breast and the little one suckled with great enthusiasm, his tiny hand grabbing possessively. He was growing up so fast. Another wave of remorse hit her. Gabriel was missing out on so many moments with his child.
Nonsense. Everyone knew men didn’t concern themselves with babies. It was just a year. He would get to enjoy his son as a toddler. When he could play and learn to ride and do all theother things boys did. Right now, Sam only drank milk and slept. Not very exciting at all.
Except it was. She treasured every smile, every gurgle. Every insignificant thing related to her child was a marvel to her. And she knew Gabriel would feel the same. He had said as much. Maybe she could invite him to visit for Christmas? And perhaps they could work something out? Figure out a way to be together.
Yes, she would write the letter right after feeding Samuel.
And so she did. She invited him to spend Christmas with them. Told him she wanted to revisit their last conversation. That she regretted her answer. It was all true and as much as she dared to put in a letter. She hoped it was enough...
But after a week with no response to her invitation, she had to assume Gabriel was not coming. Was he upset at her? She had hurt him with her refusal to marry him. But he had caught her by surprise! His proposal had been so unexpected! And on the same day she had buried Harold, and Blackwell had threatened her. She had been mad with grief, fear, and exhaustion. How could anyone think clearly under those circumstances?
And now? Was she ready to give a different response now? She was still afraid, but nothing was worse than this absolute silence from Gabriel.
Good God, what if he had given up on her? What if he had decided to find another woman to marry? No. He wouldn’t do that. Would he? They loved each other. They had a son together. He loved his son. Except she had hurt Gabriel. And refused his proposal. And denied him his son.
Adding to her worries was the fact that Blackwell had made no move against her yet. She had expected to have a barrage of solicitors knocking at her door the day after the burial, accusing her of adultery and dragging her to court. But that hadn’t happened. She should be relieved. Maybe Blackwell had realized the futility of a lawsuit, had seen reason and decided not towaste the comfortable inheritance Harold had left him in useless litigation.
But she didn’t believe that. People like Neil Blackwell didn’t give up. She didn’t know what form his attack would take, but an attack was forthcoming.
LIFE AT THE FOLLY HADsettled into a comfortable pattern. December had come and gone. A new year had begun, and with it renewed hope and optimism. If it were not for the torture of being so close to Hannah, of seeing her every day from afar and not being able to touch her, he would even say it was a pleasant routine.
Every night, he would visit his son and stay with him. Most nights, Sammy slept through his visits. But sometimes he would wake, and maybe it was his imagination, but his son always seemed happy to see him.
