She wanted his love... she just didn’t know if she was worthy of it.
Nor did she know where to start to become not just the woman he wanted, but the one she wished to be.
She knew one thing—she must not ever take another drink.
Chapter 17
Roman had held Leonie a good long time after she’d fallen asleep. She was precious to him; she was also a danger.
He’d carried her to the bed. She’d been so tired and sated she hadn’t even stirred except to nuzzle her nose in his palm when he had laid it beside her cheek.
For years, she had occupied too large a place in his mind. Even when he’d cursed her, he’d tied himself to her. Now, she might well be carrying his child and they would be forever linked.
What if she couldn’t rid herself of this terrible obsession with drink?
Every fiber of his being wanted to lie beside her. He wanted to wake in the morning holding her. However, for his own sanity, he must place some distance between them, at least until he understood what he wished to do.
He could not makeanydecision until he knew she was not carrying his child.
Roman took himself to the stables. He made a bed in the fresh hay but he did not sleep well.
He woke at dawn when Whiby and the post boy began moving about. He helped with the horses and then saw the hired vehicle off with a meal of bread, cheese, and some dried apples for the driver. Both Whiby and the post boy had kept their thoughts to themselves upon discovering Roman so newly married and sleeping in the stables.
Roman broke his fast with more of the bread and cheese. He brewed a big pot of tea, thinking it would be good for when Leonie woke. He also took the opportunity to search the kitchen for anything that could cause her to indulge. Since most of his meals before leaving for London had been taken at his parents’ cottage, he couldn’t find anything. His mother must have brought the celebratory bottle of elderberry wine from her home. He also cleaned up the damage he’d done in the receiving room.
He had a full day ahead of him. Hopefully, Yarrow and Barr would be arriving with the plow and goods he’d purchased in London. He wanted to contact the squire about buying some of his newborn lambs and Roman would pick those out himself. He also needed to take a quick walk through the village to let them know he’d returned.
However, right now, he was too wound up in conflicting emotions to be of use to anyone.
He’d always been capable of tying himself into knots and the only way to unravel doubts and uncertainty was with hard, manual work. His stepfather had taught him that lesson over a decade and a half ago and it was as true when he was a lad as it was now.
Roman sought out the axe. He took a moment to sharpen the blade and then walked to the far field where there was a pile of wood from the clearings Lawrence had been making to the paths. Roman decided to cut it into kindling and split logs.
Within the hour, despite the cold spring morning, David found him.
“I heard the axe and had to come see who was out this early finishing what Lawrence and I started.” He was walking better today, but then his affliction, whatever it was, came and went. He noticed Roman’s concern and shrugged. “I must walk while I can.” He sounded almost content with a prognosis from his physician that would make most men weep.
“You should still take it easy.”
“I’ll be sitting out my days soon enough.”
That was not an answer Roman liked, and only added to the weight he already felt. Unfortunately, David was feeling talkative.
“Your mother and Dora left fifteen minutes ago to take a basket to the Poole family on the far side of the parish. They have two children down with a fever.”
Roman grunted an answer before swinging the axe and burying it in a good-sized log. The axe went in but it was not easy to pull out. He had to put his boot on it and that didn’t make him any happier.
“The log is too green for splitting,” his stepfather observed. “All of them are.”
“Well, I’ve a mind to split them whether they wish to be or not.”
“It will be hard work on unseasoned wood. You’d be best to stack it and wait.”
He was right. But Roman wasn’t in the mood for reason. “Excuse me, weren’t you a lecturer? And not a woodsman?”
“Even lecturers know not to fiddle with green wood. Indeed, I would imagine captains in His Majesty’s Army would also know as much. You are doing it the hard way.”
“Sometimes that way is best.”
