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Isabel looked away. “Perhaps that was the right decision. My friend told me that children know a kind heart when they see it. I wish I had listened to Millie earlier.”
Rhys knew how it felt to have the babe suffer because of something he’d done, and he didn’t want Isabel to feel this way. “We both should have. And I hope we both will in the future.”
Isabel took a deep breath. “But what of rumors about your wife?”
Rhys let out a deep sigh. “The letter came a few weeks after the incident. It said that the ship my wife had been on had sunk. There were no survivors.
“So, you see, in a way, the gossip is right. I drove my wife away with my surly moods, and she died. I then left my babe all alone, and she suffered… I have been the reason for all the misfortunes in the lives of the people I cared about. And if something had happened to you tonight—” His voice broke.
Isabel scrambled from the bed and approached him slowly as if he were a spooked animal. “Nothing happened to me,” she said and put her palm against his cheek.
Rhys leaned into her touch, staring into her solemn blue eyes. “But I drove you away.”
“You didn’t. I would never leave you or Millicent. Not of my own free will.” She stepped closer to him and snaked her arms around his waist. Rhys was so startled he didn’t even respond. He just stood there with his arms limp by his sides as she hugged her body to his.
“Now, can we go see Millicent? I want to see her. I missed her so much.”
Isabel’s words thawed Rhys’s frozen heart. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly against his heart. How could a woman who had met his daughter a few weeks ago care about her more than her own mother?
He disengaged Isabel’s arms from his body and took her hand in his. “Yes, let’s go.”
* * *
Isabel walked through the dark corridor, her hand in her husband’s larger one. His heat seemed to travel through their adjoined fingers and spread through her body.
The fact that he had told her about his first wife, confessed to his sins, and relived the painful memories about Millicent told her something very important.
He cared about her. He didn’t want to lose her the way he’d lost his first wife. And that thought gave her wings.
Yes, he was surly and rude at times, but she was already used to the constant frown on his face. And perhaps if they agreed to be frank and open with each other, they could give one another more reasons to smile. Perhaps in time, they could become the happy family she had dreamed about as a child.
They reached Millicent’s room and walked inside.
Millie lay in her little cot by the window. The storm still raged outside, but she did not seem to be bothered by it at all.
Isabel smiled. She was a resilient little child.
Isabel would make certain to always protect her from everything wicked in this world. As Isabel stepped inside, Button—who was lying at the foot of the bed—roused and let out an audible yawn.
Millie shifted in her bed and opened her eyes. “Isabel!” She shot up in bed, and Isabel dashed to her side.
Isabel sat on the bed and hugged Millicent’s little body to hers. Button let out a bark and then settled back at Isabel’s feet.
“Where have you been?” Millicent asked against Isabel’s chest.
Isabel smiled. “I was with a friend, witnessing the miracle of birth.”
“You were? Truly? Was it interesting?”
The flurry of questions out of Millicent’s mouth gave Isabel comfort.
She thought awhile, remembering all the blood and the screams she’d witnessed that day. “It was… beautiful,” she lied.
Well, the result had been beautiful, but the birthing process not so much. However, Millie was too young to know the details.
“Will you tell me about it?”
Isabel chuckled. “Perhaps on the morrow. It is late now. You should be sleeping.”
