She narrowed her eyes, suspicion filling her face. “My vow still holds.”
“I can sleep in the bed without touching ye, wife.” That was a lie, but he’d not retract it. “Yer vow shall remain intact.” He hoped that was a lie as well.
“I shall ask Mrs. Pepperhill for additional pillows and blankets. We can build a wall between us.”
“We already have a wall between us,” he said, daring her to deny it.
“That wall is not of my doing.” She eyed him like a beautiful beastie backed into a corner.
“No.” He lifted both hands in surrender. “It is my doing, and I regret it more than ye will ever know.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Exactly what I said.”
She glared at him harder. He could almost see her thoughts whirling in the sapphire blue of her eyes. She nay trusted him, and he didn’t blame her. But this time, he would prove her wrong. He just prayed that someday he wouldn’t regret it.
Shunning the demons stirring his fears, he pulled in a deep breath and held fast. “I regret what I did to us.”
Her glare softened, and she reached up to touch his cheek. “I have never stopped loving you.”
“And for that, I am grateful, because I have only come to love ye more.” He couldn’t begin to express the depth of his love for her.
An angry yowl came from the other side of the closed nursery door.
“Our wee niece is not happy.”
With a weary sigh, Merry hurried into the nursery and picked up the wailing child. “Oh my goodness, is it that terrible, sweet Abby? What in heaven’s name is wrong?”
Duncan followed, unable and unwilling to spend a moment out of Merry’s presence. “I dinna think she likes to be alone,” he said. “Look how she quieted so quickly as soon as she heard your voice.”
“Maybe she is frightened when she’s alone.” Merry settled back into the rocker with the babe, patting and shushing the softly fretting child. “Not that long ago, she spent every moment with her mother, and now, since her birth, I imagine the world seems quite cold and forbidding.”
Duncan knelt beside them, cupping the infant’s velvety head in his palm. “The world is cold and forbidding. I dinna blame her.” He pulled up a cushioned stool that was entirely too short for his long legs and settled on it.
Merry rewarded him with a quiet chortle. “You look like a grasshopper with your legs folded up under your chin like that.”
“And ye are the fairy princess come to the meadow to enchant allwho see ye.”
She shook her head, smiling down at the finally peaceful infant. “Whatever am I going to do with you, my lord?”
“Whatever ye wish, as long as ye let me stay at yer side.”
Suddenly serious, she slowed the gentle movement of the rocker. “I do love you.”
“Good, because I love ye more.” A sense of peace settled over him as he sat there with Merry and the babe in the nursery. He couldn’t explain it and had no desire to. All he knew was that he liked it and never wished for it to end.
Merry shifted with an endearing yet very unladylike yawn. “Good heavens, I am about to rock myself to sleep, but I’m afraid to try putting her in the cradle. Felicity was up all night with her again and needs at least a few hours of rest.”
Unfolding himself from the short stool, he held out his hands. “Give the wee lassie to me. She liked me well enough the other day. Maybe she and I can rock for a while and get to know one another better.”
Merry gave him a dubious look. “Are you certain?”
“If I was not certain I’d not ask, now, would I?” He tipped a nod at a chaise longue beside the hearth. “Rest yerself for a bit. Ye look weary.”
“That is a terrible thing to say to a woman. Are you telling me I look haggard?”
Heaven help him and his sorry mouth. “Nay, my love. Ye are beauty itself. Ye merely seem a bit tired.” He wiggled his fingers, still reaching for the babe. “Give me the bairn, aye?”
