Patience.
He could be patient.
The jittery anxiety banding his chest did not need to be expressed.
He could rebuild her trust. He could wait for her to come to him.
To remember their love, their baby . . . theireverything.
“You were not ill-used,” he repeated, keeping his voice measured. “I wouldnae be so sure that all the memories are bad.”
“I don’t want them regardless . . . those memories. I want them to stay gone.”
“Ye cannae mean that, lass.”
“Of course, I mean it!” She huffed in surprise. “I have moved on from the horror ofThe Minerva. I am forging a new life for myself, one that my mother and father would have approved. I have the regard of a good man who wishes to marry me—”
“Pardon? A good man?!” Surprise raised Kieran’s voice a solid two octaves. “What the hell does that mean?!”
Jamie flinched, as surely as if he had struck her. “It means I have a beau.”
“Ye cannae be serious?” Blind fury coated Kieran’s mind. “Anotherman—”
“His name is Simon,” Jamie spat at him. “Mr. Simon Fitzpatrick. He is a curate, and he loves me—”
“Like hell he does!”
“How dare you? Who do ye think ye are?!” She raked him with scathing precision, her eyes chips of frost. “Simon is the only good thing to happen to me since my father and Jamie died. He does love me! More to the point, Simon accepts me even knowing I was forced to be awhoreaboard a merchant ship! Had he been there, he would have protected me. Unlike yourself! Yewerethere and did nothing to stop it!”
Jamie spun around, dashing up the stairs, her feet slapping on the stone.
Kieran raced after her. “As I keep saying, ye weren’t forced tae be a whore, Jamie! No one coerced ye—”
“Oh!No one forced me? So you’re saying Iwantedtae be a whore!” She pivoted and glared down at him, her tone dripping acid. “Please tell me more about all the lovely experiences just waiting to be remembered!”
“If ye would just listen—”
“Leave me alone!” She whirled and continued to race up the stairs.
“Nae! I care too much tae leave ye be! The Jamie I knew would fight to remember. Not give up her future tae the first man who promised her security—”
“One last time. I. Am. Not. Jamie!” She reached her bedroom door and threw it open, spinning to face him, one hand on the door jamb, one on the latch. “The woman ye thought ye knew is gone. I am here the now. And I want peace. I ache for it. And I praise God every day that he sent a good, kind man like Simon into my life. I’ve finally found a measure of contentment after years of heartache. I will not allow yourself or anyone to take it from me!”
“Jamie—”
“For the last time, Jamie. Is. Dead! Leave me be!”
She slammed the door in his face, the lock clacking with brutal finality.
It felt a wee bit like the closing of a casket.
He stared at the door, chest heaving, hands in his hair.
He wanted to bang his fists on the thick oak.
To shout her name until he was hoarse.
Until she disavowed thisSimon Fitzpatrick.
