“Children? There’s more than one?”
“Aye. You met Kirsty.”
“Yes.” She looked at Amy. “We met.”
“Her brother Graham is a year older.”
She didn’t say anything.
Calum tried to find the right words to explain to this woman that his brother wasn’t always so rash in his actions. “Eachann doesn’t always think about the consequences of what he chooses to do. He’s not a bad man. Just a lost one.”
She was stoically silent.
He would see she looked worn out. He wondered if she had slept at all. He knew she hadn’t eaten. “I’ll stay with Amy. Go down to the kitchen. David will give you something to eat.”
“You don’t think I’ll try to run away?”
His look was clear and direct. “No.”
Georgina gave a small nod, then asked, “Who’s David?”
“A cousin. He does a little bit of everything, including all the cooking.”
“How many people live on the island?”
“Kirsty and Graham. Some cousins—Fergus, David and Will, Eachann and myself.”
“That’s all?”
“That’s all.”
“No women?”
“Not since Sibeal died. Other than Kirsty.”
Georgina stood up stiffly. She sucked in a breath and rubbed her lower back. “I think I’ve been sitting in one spot too long.”
“Go on, now. Get yourself some food. The kitchen is downstairs on the back side of the house.”
She looked at Amy again. “She hasn’t moved.”
Calum nodded, his attention already on Amy. Somewhere in the back of his mind he heard the bedroom door close. He was careful when he sat down. He leaned back against the footboard of the bed and rested an ankle on his knee.
Amy just lay there completely unaware of what she was doing to him. His insides were twisted into tense knots. She unsettled him, confused him, made him aware of feelings he didn’t know he had.
He had the most profound sense of impending doom, as if his life would never be the same again. It was like he was living a nightmare or a dream or someone else’s life.
There was nothing he could do about it, because the confusion came from her. He couldn’t wake up from this or walk away from it.
He looked down at her pale face. She had ivory skin and he remembered there was a slight pink flush on her cheekbones when she wasn’t ill. Her hair was thick and curly. Georgina must have brushed it because it was spread out on her pillow like sunshine.
He took in her features: the small heart-shaped face, a narrow nose that turned up a little at the end, a strong chin. She had thin brows and he could see the small blue veins in her eyelids. Her cheekbones were high and her face was full and fresh, more youthful than most.
He reached out and just touched her cheek. It was warm, not as cold as it looked. He ran his fingertips over it, aware that she was soft and real. She was no dream.
Time went by. He had no idea how much time and he didn’t care. He just waited there, wanting to be with her, needing to watch her sleep because he was afraid if he didn’t that she might not wake up at all.
It was a fool’s thought, romantic drivel like poetry and melodramatic plays he’d seen and thought were stupid. He never thought they were very realistic because he had never experienced romance.
