“Aye. William.” He overaccentuated the name. “Is he important in your life?”
She considered his question for a heartbeat. “Yes, of course. He’s Miriam’s father and my friend.”
“Just as I’m your friend?”
Eleanor frowned, uncertain of the course of his questions. “He’s been a good friend since I met him and Anne in England.”
“Nothing more?”
“Of course nothing more, though I do not see how it’s your concern.” Frustration built in her chest as she sat straighter at the table. “William is the only person who truly cares that I’m here. He’s the only one who has treated me like an important member of this community. He—he makes me feel needed and wanted. Perhaps it’s only because I care for Miriam, but he was just as kind and thoughtful before she was born.”
Her words seemed to affect him, and he offered her the courtesy of looking down at his hands in contrition. “I’m sorry I dinna welcome you like I should have. I know now that it was wrong, and I want to make it right.” He lifted his gaze again. “Truth be told, I was shocked and confused.”
“And angry.”
“Aye.” He nodded. “And angry.”
A gust of wind rattled the windows and the soft snores of Semple were interrupted by a fit of coughing before he went back to sleep.
Eleanor studied Arran. There were a few more lines around his eyes and his skin was darkened by the sun. She spoke quietly, not wanting to disturb anyone else in the house as she asked, “Are you still angry?”
He regarded her for a moment. “Aye, there is still part of me that is angry, though ’tis not your fault, but mine.” He lowered his arms to his sides and openly admired her. “I ken this life well, Eleanor, and by the time the ground thaws, you will be begging to return to England. ’Tis not because you’re weak, or because you’re a woman. I’ve watched dozens of strong men and women rush to leave this colony every year. If I had not promised Lord Selkirk that I would see this colony survive and thrive, I would tell all the others to leave, as well. Until things improve with the Nor’westers and the Bois-Brûlés, this place is too dangerous for a lady who is accustomed to the finer things in life. They will doeverything to destroy our homes, our food, and our lives. If there is nothing to hold you here, you will leave, I promise you.”
He was wrong. There were things in the Red River Valley that would hold her. Running a school and ensuring that the children in the colony could read and write had become her primary aim. But just as important was a man named Arran MacLean—as foolish as that might be.
“Good night, Lady Eleanor.” For the first time since that long-ago evening in St. Mary’s Isle, when he had asked her to marry him, Arran reached out and put his hand on her arm.
The touch was feather-soft, and lasted only a moment, but the feeling lingered long after he dropped his hand.
“I’m sorry I dinna welcome you properly when you came. I mean to right that wrong. This place might not be easy or safe for you, but you are needed and wanted. And I long to be friends, because I care about you. I always have and I always will.”
Butterflies took flight in her stomach as she held her breath to hear what he would say next.
“But that doesna mean you should stay, lass.”
She let out the breath and tasted the bitterness of his words.
“Good night,” he said again. “Try to sleep.”
And with those parting words, Arran left Eleanor alone once again.
Chapter Six
It took a few days to settle into a routine at Fort Daer. When the storm subsided, and the temperatures rose again, Arran led a group of men to the riverbanks to fell the trees they’d use for firewood and for building more cabins. It was hard work, but it gave the men something to do, and it kept Arran’s mind busy. Or, at least, that’s what he told himself.
Having Eleanor within the stockade was both a blessing and a curse. She brought gentleness and grace to the governor’s house that he’d never known in all the winters he’d been in the Red River Valley. Her lyrical voice filled the rooms with laughter and joy, and she added a unique perspective to the conversations around mealtimes. He loved seeing the land and climate through her unbiased eyes, and he enjoyed the touches of elegance she added, just by her presence. She was intelligent and wise, and when they spoke of political or religious matters, she never shied away from voicing her opinions. She and West engaged in theological debates almost nightly, though neither one was ever unkind to the other. Arran contemplated their points of view andeven added his own from time to time, though it was the simple act of listening that he enjoyed the most.
But having her in the fort also meant that he was constantly reminded of her. It was almost maddening how often his mind drifted to Eleanor. It distracted him from important conversations, it hindered his decision-making, and it made him forgetful. But worst of all, there were times when he was so consumed with thoughts of her that he wanted nothing more than to drop his work and seek her out, just to see her smile.
Four days after arriving at Fort Daer, Arran had one of those moments.
The temperature had risen so drastically, the snow had begun to melt, causing large puddles of mud to fill the fort yard. Sunshine warmed his back and face as he walked toward the main hall, his musket over his shoulder. The men were still felling logs near the riverbanks, but he had left them on the pretense of attending a meeting with Governor Semple. It wasn’t a complete falsehood, since he planned to talk to the governor about Semple’s upcoming trip, though the meeting could have waited until after supper.
Eleanor had officially opened the school that morning and he’d spent the entire day wondering how things were going for her. She had spent hours preparing her lessons and he was eager to see if she was pleased with the results.
The windows of the main hall were open to allow in the fresh air and warmer weather. A long, low porch covered the front of the building and Arran took the steps up to the porch now. He stood just outside one of the windows where he could hear a child reciting his numbers. When he missed one, Eleanor did not scold him but gently corrected his mistake and then patiently listened as he began again.
A smile lifted the corner of his mouth. She was born to teach. Her patience and gentleness were a gift from God, he wascertain. He would never have the grace to spend an entire day in a room full of children and teach them their sums.
