Page 29 of A Scottish Lord for Christmas
“I would love to.” Bolstered by the beaming approval in his face, Rowena didn’t mind that she felt so isolated. Blair wanted to see her.
After dessert, Kenna bid them good night and vanished up the stairs toward her chamber. Quinn took Rowena’s arm in his and together they walked toward the hallway where their chambers were. But he stopped in front of a different door, one not far from his own. She looked at him in surprise as she realized he had done as she wished. Hope stirred weakly in her chest; she was afraid to give it more strength lest he destroy it again.
“You had her moved?”
“Aye. It was important to you to have her close.” His face reddened as he glanced down, a little sheepish. The sweet behavior, almost boyish, was charming on such a rugged, handsome man. It softened the hard lines around his mouth and brightened his eyes.
Inside the bedchamber, the nurse was sitting by the fire, knitting what looked to be a rather lovely scarf. Blair was dressed in her nightclothes, tucked in blankets but by the fire and not in her bed.
“Papa!” Blair squealed, and ran to them.
Rowena’s heart swelled at the sight of father and daughter as he embraced her with one large arm.
“Rowena is here to say good night to ye, lass.” He brushed a hand over her curls and glanced at Rowena.
“Rowena,” the little girl said solemnly, and held out a chubby hand.
Clutching Blair’s hand, Rowena followed the child to her bed and then she lifted Blair up and nestled her beneath her covers.
“Are you warm enough?” she asked the little girl as she tucked the blankets up to her chin. Then she placed the back of one hand to Blair’s forehead. The skin was still too hot and Blair’s gray eyes were a little glassy. Rowena wanted to be there when the doctor examined the child and learn what she could about how to help Blair get better.
“Sing a song,” Blair murmured drowsily, her cheeks pink with a smile that would have melted even the coldest hearts.
“A song?” Rowena tapped her chin, pretending to think it over.
“Pu-lease?” Blair whispered. “Mamas always sing songs.”
Rowena’s breath caught for a moment and she couldn’t breathe.Mama. The word held an infinite amount of hope for Rowena. It was part of why she was here. She wanted to be a mother to this child and a wife and lover to Quinn. Could she truly be one step closer to her dreams of true happiness?
“You’re right. Mamas do sing songs,” Rowena agreed after a second. “This is one my mother used to sing to me.” She began to hum the melody of “The Lost Chord” by Sir Arthur Sullivan.
“Seated one day at the organ, I was weary and ill at ease,
And my fingers wander’d idly over the noisy keys;
I know not what I was playing, or what I was dreaming then,
But I struck one chord of music like the sound of a great Amen.
It flooded the crimson twilight like the close of an Angel's Psalm,
And it lay on my fever’d spirit with a touch of infinite calm.
It quieted pain and sorrow like love overcoming strife,
It seem’d the harmonious echo from our discordant life.
It link’d all perplexed meanings into one perfect peace
And trembled away into silence as if it were loth to cease;
I have sought, but I seek it vainly, that one lost chord divine,
Which came from the soul of the organ and enter’d into mine.”
As she finished part of the song, she noticed Blair’s eyes were closed, her lashes a dusting of gold across the tops of her cheeks.
“Good night, sleep well, darling.” She curled the blankets around Blair’s neck more tightly and then she turned around. Quinn wasn’t there.
