Page 78 of His Duchess to Remember

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

The rapid knock at the bedchamber door made Octavia jump so hard that her tea sloshed over the side of the cup, into the saucer.

“Who is it?” she called, her other hand on her heart to try and steady its leaping beat.

The door opened, and Malcolm appeared, his green eyes feverish, his breathing unsteady as if he had sprinted there.

“What are you doing?” she protested. “Get out! I have no desire to speak with you.”

He remained where he was. “Maybe nae, but I have to speak with you.”

“I do not want to hear anything else from you,” she insisted, her eyes narrowed, her own breathing becoming ragged. “I heard everything the other night; there is nothing more to be said. Indeed, I am only permitting you to stay here because I have no say in the matter. This is your residence, after all.”

And I know that my son would be heartbroken if I sent you away, she neglected to add, though it was mostly that she had no real right to ask him to go away.

“Why, I suppose I do not actually have any say in whether you stay in this room or not,” she continued, crossing her arms across her chest. “You do as you please, and you do not care for how it might make others feel.”

Malcolm clawed a hand through his dark hair. “That isn’t fair, lass. I ken ye’re angry with me, and ye have every right to be, but ye ken I wouldn’t disturb yer peace unless I had a reason. Just as I think ye ken I wouldn’t have held back the truth with ill intentions.”

“What were your intentions?” she challenged, her gaze flitting to his lips.

A burst of vivid memory exploded in her mind: the sweet friction of his mouth on hers, the warm feeling of being pulled into his embrace, the thrill of being kissed by him and kissing him in return, the flutter of hope that it might have been the beginning of something more for their marriage.

She could not help it. Being close to him did something to her that was beyond her control. Even in her anger, she could not stop her mind from imagining that kiss, and how… right it had felt. Until, of course, it did not.

“Ye were focused on Simon. Ye were under enough strain with his sickness that I didn’t want to add to it,” Malcolm replied tightly. “I didn’t want ye to think that I was just going to abandon ye to deal with his illness alone because I’d gotten my memories back.”

She snorted to hide the fact that he was right; if he had told her, she would have thought that.

“Did you consider leaving?” she asked bluntly.

“Aye, because it was what ye wanted,” he replied. “But the moment Simon took ill, there was nothing that could have made me leave. And aye, I probably could’ve said that to ye, but I didn’t think ye needed the doubt.”

She turned her gaze toward the fireplace. “You must have been very amused with yourself, sitting at the dinner table with my brother and my sister-in-law, aware of everything while pretending you were not.”

“I had nay idea about Hugo and Evelyn’s struggles,” he shot back, a spike of real anger in his voice. “As ye may recall, ye and I hadn’t spoken in five years, and we didn’t talk much before then, and I certainly had nay correspondence with yer brother.”

A flush of embarrassment warmed her cheeks. Again, he was right; he could not have known about Hugo and Evelyn’s difficulties. The sympathy he had shown that night must have been real… or just another part of his performance.

“As for being amused with myself,” he continued. “I didn’t do this maliciously, lass. I didn’t enjoy a moment of keeping the truth to myself. I realize I did the wrong thing, and I am sorry for that, but it was nae some ruse, performed to entertain myself.”

“That is easy for you to say, but hard for me to believe,” she retorted. “You had ample opportunity to be honest with me, and you decided to continue tricking me instead. You let me think you were someone that you are not.”

“It wasn’t a trick!” he urged, coming closer. “It was me being idiotic.”

She shrugged. “Either way, I do not trust you anymore.”

Perhaps, he might win that trust back eventually, but it would take a great deal of work on his part. One thing was for certain: the next few weeks at Huntfield would be pivotal… and probably very awkward, no doubt filled with quarrels like this and apologies that she was not quite ready to accept yet.

“Then, it’s fortunate that I won’t be here much longer,” he said thickly.

Octavia’s head snapped toward him, her brow creasing into a frown. “Pardon?”

“Ye said I could remain here until I made a recovery, and I have,” he replied, his eyes glinting with something like pain. “I’ve taken up enough of yer time and yer peace. What I did only proves that I shouldn’t be around ye or our son.”

No… No, that is not how this is supposed to be…

“He was happier before I arrived,” he added. “Any influence I have on him… isn’t what he deserves. Ye were raising him perfectly well, and I’ve intruded on that. So, I mean to be gone by this evening.”