Page 45 of Keeping Kate
Chapter 13
Her voice was smooth and sweet, like whisky and honey. Alec leaned his brow against the door and listened, eyes closed, hearing her sing soft and low. Far more than lust coursed through him this time. He felt a deep longing and closed his eyes.
Below, he could hear the soldiers talking as they finished their ale and another game of cards. Fortunately, the corporal had been satisfied with the tale of Katie Hell’s escape from the carriage. And no one had questioned the presence in the inn of a young woman with a fussy baby, and thank the Lord for that, he thought.
Once Kate had gone upstairs, Alec had shared a round of drinks with the soldiers, who kept Jean busy with requests for ale and food. At the late hour, she only served them bread and cheese, but it was enough. Alec saw her visibly relax once the child’s cries from upstairs had quieted and she had returned to her work.
He left the soldiers to their late meal and went upstairs as soon as he could. As he walked away, he heard one of the men ask Jean about hiring a room for the men to share that night, remarking they could not search for their prisoner in the black and rainy night. Jean, bless her, had not said a word about Kate, or said that the child the young woman had was in fact her own bairn.
Now he knocked softly on the door and stepped inside.
Kate stood by the window, swaying, the infant cuddled in her arms. No harlot, no wildcat hellion, just a young woman soothing a child. He thought of a Madonna by some Flemish painter of long ago, a painting he had seen once in his travels: a delicate young woman with pale eyes and golden hair, her hands tender and graceful on the small child.
Kate turned, smiled quick and unguarded, sending a shiver all through him. He nodded and closed the door silently. He could not help but remember Amy just then, his brother’s wife, at one time his own fiancée. Amy with her sweet face and dark hair, her serene smile. The last time he had seen her, she had been holding a small child in her arms, another clutching her hand, the third rounding her belly. He had still loved her then, but he could not forget the hurt and resentment he had felt, for Amy had married his brother while Alec had been away at school in Leiden. That day, she had wanted to be friends as before, had wanted his forgiveness. He had acquiesced, but in his heart could not be at ease with her or his brother. That last day he had seen her, she had been beautiful, ripe and joyful in motherhood.
A month later, she was gone, slipped away after birthing a scrap of a girl. By days and degrees, Alec’s heart had formed a shell. The hurt was a bit easier to bear that way.
Here, now, another beautiful young Madonna stirred his heart, this one golden and fiery rather than dark and quiet. He watched Kate in silence, his torn heart badly in need of mending, and no one aware of it but himself.
Kate smiled. “Where is Jean? Will she come fetch him soon?”
“Still serving tables. Did you want to be quit of the little one?” He removed his coat, hung it over a chair, and sat,mattress creaking. When he leaned backward, the headboard whacked against the wall. The child whimpered at the disturbance.
“Hush, please do not wake him!” Kate patted the babe’s back. “It took so long to get him to sleep. I am not very good at mothering.”
“On the contrary, you seem to be doing very well.”
“He will be very hungry soon, and he needs new cloths.” She wrinkled her nose.
“A natural hazard with babes. Have you no kinfolk with bairns?”
“Not many. Most of my kinfolk went to France years ago.”
“Jacobites? Did they leave after the ‘Nineteen, or earlier?”
“After the ‘Nineteen. We left when my father was exiled with so many others that year. My sister and I returned last year. And she is just wed and expecting her first child. So I will have a little experience to lend her. An hour’s worth, at least.” She smiled.
His heart melted, but he only lifted his brow. “A sister? Does she have a name?”
“And would I tell you?” She laughed, rubbing the infant’s back, pacing. “And you? Do you have wee kinfolk?”
“Two nephews and three small nieces.”
“Then you have ample experience with children,” she said, walking toward him.
“Not a whit. I avoid them like a plague, have not visited for months—oof!” Alec opened his hands suddenly as Katedeposited the infant in his arms. “What the devil!“
“Do not swear. He listens carefully, so watch what you say.”
“He is an infant. How could he—blast it,” he said, feeling the damp bundle resting in his hand. “Quite wet.”
“I have no cloths for him. What do you have in that satchel besides chains?” She went over to his canvas bag. “A shirt?”
“Washed by your own hand, or so you claimed. Wait, that is good Flemish lawn, not a child’s napkin,” he protested as she rummaged in the bag and pulled out a shirt.
“It can be cleaned again,” she told him, shaking it out.
“What! A baby will turn that stuff to saffron. It would never come clean.”
