"Aye." Rebbie stared into the goblet for a long moment. "I don't remember my mother either. But my father is very different from yours."
"Aye, 'tis clear he cares a great deal about you," she said. Did Rebbie have any idea how fortunate he was in that? She would've given near anything if her own father had embraced her, or simply looked at her with kindness occasionally.
"Where is the Stanbury Estate?" Rebbie asked, and she wasn't sure she liked the change in subject.
"In Kinross."
"Why were you inStirlingthat night?" Though his tone was calm, his words ignited an explosion inside her, blowing all her emotions toward the surface. Especially shame. She dropped her gaze. She didn't have to ask him which night he meant; 'twas clear he was talking about the first night they'd spent together.
Leaning forward, he took the wine goblet from her suddenly shaky hand and set it aside along with his. Then, he held her hands within his… so warm and strong.
"Calla," he said softly. "Don'tfashyourself. I just… want to know more about you."
She nodded, but still couldn't meet his eyes. He had a right to his curiosity. He must've wondered all these years why on earth she would approach him in an inn. "We'd traveled toStirlingfor a grand feast held byStanbury'sfriend."
"Aye." Rebbie gently squeezed her hands as if inviting her to continue. But she could not tell him all he wished to know.
"I had grown lonely and isolated. He held no affection for me, and once I bore his heir, he never touched me again."'Twastrue. She might not tell Rebbie everything, but she didn't wish to lie to him either.
"That was a blessing, at least, aye?"
She nodded. "When he went out to gamble with his friends that night, I slipped out, for I knew he would be occupied until the morn. I was so tired of it all. My life held no joy. I just wanted… I don't know. Perhaps, to pretend I was someone else for a short while. To experience something I never had… and never would again."
"You don't ken that," he murmured.
"What?" Finally, she lifted her gaze.
A depth of compassion lurked in his midnight eyes, along with a hint of hidden interest. "You don't ken you won't experience a night like we shared again."
Her throat closed and tears filled her eyes. She swallowed hard against the constriction, trying to regain control of her emotions, but the tears slipped out.
"Come." Rebbie drew her abruptly onto his lap, leaned back, and pressed her head against his shoulder.
His kindness only served to compound her emotions. Her throat ached and tears streamed from her eyes. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
"Nay.'Tisall right." One arm around her back, he held her close, and with his other hand, he stroked her hair as if she were a small child.
He couldn't know that she'd never been held and comforted like this, not even when she was a wee lass, not by her father, and certainly not by her late husband. How could Rebbie give affection so selflessly and carelessly as if it was the easiest thing in the world?'Twasalmost as if he cared about her, but how could he? He didn't truly know her.
Once he did know her and all the nooks and crannies of her deceptive heart, he would shun her and revile her. She deserved no affection at all, but she would take it from him as a thief might, just as she had stolen something else from him years ago.
He smoothed her hair, long and hanging loose about her shoulders, then he kissed her forehead and wiped her tears away with his thumb. "Shh. Stop your crying now," he whispered gently. "There is naught to cry over. I'm not angry that you came to me that night. In fact, I'm thankful 'twas me and not some miscreant who would've mistreated you. You shouldn't have taken such a great risk, but I understand why you did it. Everyone needs affection once in a while, aye?"
She squeezed her eyes tight, tears still stinging them and her face burning once again. Good Lord, how pathetic she sounded. She was unsure if she could ever look him in the eye again. What was she? Some stray lapdog or kitten begging for any affection someone might toss her way? And Rebbie, being the generous soul he was, gave her what she'd asked for.
"'Twasexactly what I needed that night, too," he said. "And so… I'm glad you found me."
Although the situation wasn't ideal, she was glad she'd found him, too. As he'd said, things could've turned out much worse. Though not a virgin, she'd still been quite naïve at eighteen summers, and being desperate, she'd simply taken her maid's advice about how to solve her problem. Although her actions had solved one problem, she'd created several more.
While she would love to lie here with her face buried againstRebbie'schest for the rest of the night, feeling his soothing hand stroking over her, 'twas time to face reality.
She sat up, unable to meet his gaze after the intimacy of him holding her while she cried like a sillybairn, and pushed away from him. She stood and crossed the room to find her handkerchief to blot at her eyes and nose.
"Do you have any other family?" he asked. "Brothers, sisters?"
"Nay. Laird Barclay is my closest living relative, my father's cousin. He inherited my father's barony. I had adowerhouse from my mother, but Stanbury gambled it away, too.'Twasone of the first things to go, even though he'd promised to never touch it."
"What a bastard," Rebbie growled. "Pray pardon."
