“You’re awake.” He turned to her, eyes soft. He sat back and motioned toward a table set with dishes beside the fire. “Come. Eat while the food is yet warm.”
Sliding out of the bed, she reached for his banyan lying over a chair, wrapping it around herself. The heavy silk robe puddled at her feet.
Her eyes were dry and scratchy, and her body ached, as if she had spent the previous hours in hard physical labor, instead of merely sleeping. Weeping and grief did that, she supposed.
She felt desiccated. Wrung out. Empty.
Crossing the room, she sat at the table, watching as he piled some roast beef, potatoes, and a Yorkshire pudding onto her plate—dousing the whole in a rich-smelling gravy.
“Thank ye,” she whispered as he handed her the plate. “I cannae remember the last time someone cared for me so.”
He smiled at her, an expression full of such gentleness that she feared her heart would simultaneously melt and burst.
“You warrant all the care in the world, Leah.” The rasp of his deep bass thrummed through her.
A tightness caught in the back of Leah’s throat.
Gracious, when would her tears cease?
She focused on her dinner, eating a bite of roast beef and nearly moaning as it melted in her mouth. How long had it been since she had sat down for a proper meal?
Fox dished his own plate and then poured her a glass of red wine from a decanter. His glass held only water, Leah noted, and her heart swelled with gladness. That he was holding true to his vows of sobriety, even given the trying nature of the present circumstances.
She shook her head. “I cannae believe ye came down the glen for me. Wrangled Hadley’s servants tae do your bidding. I dinnae deserv—”
“Did you not understand me just now? You meriteveryiota of my effort, Leah Carnegie.”
The fervency in his words caused her eyes to sting in earnest. She looked away, blinking furiously.
“Here now,” he said, pushed aside his plate and rounding the table to crouch before her.
He gently brushed a tear off her cheek with his thumb.
Leah turned her face into his hand, pressing a kiss to his palm.
Cupping her head with both hands, he looked into her eyes.
“I’m here. We’re in this together, you and I. No more separations.” He took in a deep slow breath. “More importantly, no more secrets.”
She stilled at that, blinking rapidly.
“No more secrets?” she whispered.
“No more.”
Silence.
Leah’s heart pounded in her chest.
Did he mean . . .
The openness of his eyes . . .
“Ye will tell me all?” Leah couldn’t suppress the hopeful catch in her voice. “Ye will trust me?”
“Of course, I trust you. Anything you want to know. Every last memory, every thought and feeling.”
Oh!
