“Burdens can be shared, my love.” He was quite sure adoration blazed from his eyes. “You are always the first to reach out and help others, heedless of your own needs. As you intimated the last time we spoke, I haven’t been good about returning the love and support you show me. I aim to fix that. After all, I share the burdens of those I love.”
Leah blinked, as if struggling to parse out the meaning of his words.
He spelled it out for her. “I know you want to ensure that Malcolm is well-cared for. It’s one of the thousand things I adore about you—how thoroughly you love those in your care. But you need rest. You need someone to hold and care for you. And while I do that, Mr. Garvis and Mrs. Burns will see that Malcolm, Thistle Muir, and the entire farm are well in hand.”
Leah looked to Mr. Garvis and Mrs. Burns and then back to Fox.
Once.
Twice.
And then promptly burst into tears.
Fox caught Leahbefore she could sink to the ground, his strong arms banding around her, holding her upright, absorbing her weight and carrying it himself.
Leah cried harder.
Howshe had missed him.
He truly had been a phantom limb, as Malcolm said. Gone too soon, and Leah helpless to know how to get him back.
But he was here.
He had come.
She sank into his strength, sobs leaving her chest in gusting bursts.
Somehow, she was moving. No. Fox had scooped her up as easily as if she were Madeline and carried her toward the waiting carriage.
Leah knew she should protest. There were bannocks to be made for luncheon, and the evening milking in the dairy to sort, as one of the milkmaids had come down with a mild fever.
But she was simply too tired to care.
And her mind stuttered over Fox’s words:
I share the burdens of those I love.
What did that mean, precisely? Was this some declaration of grand affection?
And how she wished Aileen were here to dissect it all with her.
Which, of course, led to Leahgreitingeven harder.
Fox set her into his carriage, told Mr. Wheeler to drive on, and then promptly pulled her onto his lap, holding her tight against the solid brawn of his broad shoulders.
Leah cuddled into his strength, desperately soaking up the support he offered.
Weeks of folded arms, of holding her grief close and tight, spilled out.
Oh, of a certainty, she had cried these past weeks. Quietly. Into corners and the dark of night.
But not like this.
Not with vocal, wailing sobs. Not with utter, helpless abandon.
She pressed her face to Fox’s neck, sagged her weight into his chest, and drenched his skin with her sorrow.
Grief for Aileen’s life cut far too short, for all thelivingher sister-in-law and dear friend would never do. For the stillborn bairn who had never drawn breath.
