“I want to help Eilidh and Ally and the remaining women. I promised them. I can’t just desert them now.”
Her husband shook his head in disbelief. “I do not know who they are.”
“If you’d expressed some interest in your people here, you’d know who I am talking about.”
He raised a weary hand. “They’re not my people.”
Birdie couldn’t stop shaking her head at his stubbornness. She picked up a book. “It is going to be my turn to throw a book at you,” she warned.
A ghost of a smile flitted over his face. “What do you expect me to do?”
Birdie blinked. Was he giving in? “Nothing terrible, or that takes too much effort. Show some interest in this place and the people. Work yourself through the ledger or hire a steward. And”––she tilted her chin up––“have tea with me. Converse with me. Get to know me. I promise you; I am a kind, decent person. At least, I attempt to be one most of the time.” She smiled self-consciously. “Take walks with me. The coast outside is spectacular. Don’t perpetually hide in that tower of yours.”
Gabriel’s hand hovered at the door latch. He visibly struggled to respond to her suggestions. After a moment, he drew a deep breath. “One month?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He gave a curt nod. “Very well, ma’am,” he said before he stepped out into the corridor. He turned once more, throwing her a penetrating look. “I already know that you are a kind, decent person. In fact, it is a gross understatement. Which is the only reason I agree to give you this one month.”
When Birdie snapped her mouth shut in astonishment, he’d already gone.
That had gone well, hadn’t it?
The rest of the day, she pondered on what he could’ve possibly meant with “it was a gross understatement”—and remembered the feeling of his warm, silken fingers in her neck.
Gabriel knew he’d overreacted.
But when he saw her standing there, holding his pistol from Waterloo, he’d lost all reason.
Seeing her in his room uninvited was more than an invasion of privacy.
It was as though she’d invaded his soul. Looking at his model, touching his things. His pistol. Prying and prodding at things that were none of her business.
No one had a right to do that. No one had a right to see the death and darkness that surrounded him. And he had no right to drag her down into his hellish hole. He recalled the look of terror in her eyes when he’d shouted at her. She’d nearly fallen down the stairs backwards. She could’ve broken her neck. This was the second time she’d fled from him after confronting him in this very room. What was it about her that made him shout at her?
He’d stared out of the window of his tower room and had seen the purple flowers beneath. He knew he had to make amends. So, he’d gone out, for the first time in years, and done something he’d never done in his entire life: picked flowers like a lovelorn schoolboy.
She’d been in her room and had told him to enter, and when he did, he nearly toppled over. She stood in her shift, and all he saw were the luscious curves of her body, the sweet arch of her neck.
He’d buttoned her dress with trembling fingers.
And now, he still felt the sensation on his fingers: the silky smoothness of her skin.
One month.
By George. What had he done? One month of leading a normal, married life. With a proper wife. Spending the afternoons with her, sipping tea, discussing Shakespeare. He felt himself breaking out in a sweat.
He did not know how to be a husband.
What a mystery that woman was. He could make no rhyme and reason out of her behaviour. Yet, her eyes were windows to her soul and expressed every nuanced emotion. They’d gone from fearful to apprehensive to humorous, then speculative, horrified, determined. It was only that last look she’d given him, with a tremulous smile on her lips, that he couldn’t identify.
On one account, she’d been right; it had been good for him to be outside. The wind had swept through his stagnant brain and left him more clear-headed and refreshed than he’d been in years. He’d seen, for the first time with clarity, the state of the castle. His military mind assessed the strategic location of the place. It had surprised him how sweeping the fortress was. Some parts looked decrepit. It had left him curious to see more.
One could decide to leave the tower occasionally and, for example, take a walk outside the castle battlements.
One could also ask her to accompany him. Not all the time. But, perhaps, once in a while. So he could see that look in her eyes again. Feel her little hand in his.
He shook himself. What was he thinking? It was out of the question. He’d agreed to one month. Very well. During that time, he’d simply have to stay out of her way as much as possible.
