There was no helping the flush that crept up Isla’s cheeks as she recalled how noisily she’d enjoyed slurping her tea. And the reading aloud! What did he think of that? No, it was better not to ask. She didn’t wish to know.
But it would be nice to know more about to him, I find.
Slowly she dared to look back at him from her strong clench of the tea cup she held with both hands. There was another tea cup from which the duke drank. Her husband. How strange to think she had so feared marrying. Now, well, now it merely aggravated her.
There was little fight in her tonight. Enough of a tempest brewed outside. Besides, seated there before her, Ronan didn’t seem that fierce. He often looked like a pirate, yes, but tonight… he looked so very young.
“Do you miss it?” Isla dared to ask in a whisper.
His gaze flickered from her cup to her face. “Some days. It is hard to imagine I was there long enough to miss it, however, and I suppose it is for the best.”
“That you’re here?”
“That I’m here,” he confirmed.
Isla waited for him to go on before realizing he might be expecting her to say something. Was she supposed to reassurehim that this was where he belonged? Lately, he didn’t seem particularly thrilled to be here––or to have her here.
“Is there… another place that you do miss?”
“No. Merely another time.”
Words stuck in her throat. She swallowed hard, plying her tongue from the top of her roof. The gentleman was talking to her. He had yet to tell her to do anything, so surely she needed to take advantage of this opportunity. And yet she couldn’t think of what more to say.
“Are you glad to have missed the dinner?” Ronan inquired at last.
“Not particularly. I…” He wouldn’t stop looking at her. Those eyes of his were so blasted blue she could hardly recall there was a storm. He was the sky right then, bright and bold. He stared at her until she couldn’t think of anything.
Except I must leave her at once before I… Oh, I don’t even know.
Scrambling to her feet, she shoved the blankets aside and earned a pouty response from Hector who meowed loudly before slinking off. As she stood, Ronan copied. And he still wouldn’t stop looking at her. What was she to him? A rat? A responsibility? Something better or something worse? Nothing felt like what it had when they were engaged.
“I… Night,” Isla stammered and hastily rounded the furniture to take her leave.
She had to get out of there. This was all she knew. Away from the duke, safe in her room. The hour was late, so she should never have been out this long. What had she been thinking? Huffing to herself, she opened the door and prepared to hasten through the dark to her bedchamber.
Then she glimpsed a white sheet moving and screamed.
“Isla!” Ronan stormed through, his footsteps heavy and loud as he came to her shoulder just as she caught her breath. His hand brushed against hers. A strangled sound escaped him when he realized what had shocked her. “Oliver?”
“Oh good lord,” Isla stammered. A hand over her heart, she threw the man a look of disbelief before moving to Oliver and dipping to her knees. “Oh, Oliver, you poor thing. I am so, so terribly sorry.”
Little Oliver had been rubbing his eyes all caught up in his nightie. Whatever sleep had crusted his gaze must have disappeared the moment she screamed, as he stared widely at the two of them. “I can’t sleep. I’m sorry.”
Oh, those poor R sounds. Always a W. Isla worked with him on words occasionally but couldn’t deny how precious he sounded with them.
She took his chilled hands in hers, smiling as wide as she could muster. The shaking in her body finally calmed. “No, I’m sorry. You surprised me, my dear boy, that is all. You’re not in trouble. Is anything wrong?”
“It isn’t safe to be wandering about in the dark,” Ronan said as he came down on one knee beside Isla. He put his hands, so very big hands, on the boy’s wiry shoulders. “You should have gone to Anne.”
“I’m sorry.” His bottom lip stuck out, and he looked like he might cry.
Isla threw Ronan a stern look who had the decency to look offended. Then the man sighed before wrapping his arms around Oliver and hefting him up into his arms. “Hold on tight. Let’s take you back to bed, shall we? I’m sure we’ll all feel better in the morning.”
“We better,” she muttered under her breath.
The evening had taken such an odd turn that she hardly knew how to manage herself. Though she knew Oliver’s routine often enough, Isla couldn’t help feeling surprised when Ronan knew it as well.
She took Oliver in her arms to rock him for a few minutes while Ronan collected the boy’s little toys. He had a few dolls and toy soldiers and stuffed creatures he liked to cling to, and they all had a space at the end of his large crib.
