Page 33 of A Scottish Lord for Christmas
“Right,” Rowena murmured. “Well, I should like to think on it, being a nurse I mean.” She would think on it, but her heart was lifted somewhat at the idea.
At least I could be of use to someone, someone who wanted me around.
“Thank you for staying the night, Dr. McIntosh. Let me have some breakfast brought up.” Rowena rose and hastily left the room, not wanting him to see her cry. She’d given up everything to come here with Quinn, but she’d be damned if she let anyone see tears.
***
Quinn rode out before dawn with Douglas, his gamekeeper. They carried rifles and sat on the backs of garrons, workhorses trained to bring back deer carcasses. The snow had fallen thick the night before and the world was in that quiet state between night and the coming day. The memories from the previous evening hung about Quinn like a heavy shroud.
His mind was cluttered with thoughts, too many to sort through. Blair sick, Rowena taking care of her. Quinn would never have enough words to thank her for saving his daughter’s life. Nor could he tell her how hard trusting her had been. He’d had to leave his bairn to fetch McIntosh and there had been a chance he would never see her alive again. But when Rowena had promised him she would keep Blair alive, he’d trusted her. It was the most terrifying thing he had ever done.
And the lass didn’t let me down.
He watched the wintry woods around him, his mind barely on the hunt. Douglas had deer stalked with him for many years and knew better than to speak when Quinn clearly needed quiet to think. There was so much to…face.
Blair was already accepting Rowena as part of her life, even saying the wordmamawhen asking Rowena to sing to her. She hadn’t called Rowena mama yet, but he sensed she was close. Watching them, a woman singing to a babe, a sweet and soft, haunting song. She was so like Maura in that, yet she was different too. She wasn’t a replacement; she was nothing like his first wife in looks or temperament, but she needed love as much as any woman and deserved to be loved greatly.
And I’m too bloody scared to let her get close. Because I’m afraid I’ll lose my memories of Maura.
With every day that passed, her face faded a little, like an old painting left in a sunny corner of a rarely used room. Blair would have no memories of her mother, and his own were softening too quickly. He was also afraid that if he opened himself up to love again and lost that love, he would never recover. Men didn’t survive with shattered hearts, did they? If he hadn’t had Blair to comfort him when his first wife had died, he doubted he would have ever been the same. But Blair’s sunny face and bright smile, her little chattering voice, and her love of the world had kept hope burning inside him.
Yet he feared that hope, feared what it would cost him if he dared to risk his heart again.
Rowena was too easy to love, too sweet, too sensual, too warm, too…perfect for him. He’d watched her with the servants, his sister, and Blair. His new wife was a natural sweet-tempered creature with the largest heart he’d ever seen.
And I’m the fool who broke it.
“Not too far to the ridge, milord,” Douglas said in a low voice.
Quinn answered with a nod. The art of deer stalking was tough and dangerous. No more than one to two hunters at a time could successfully track a red deer into the rocky hills and bring it down.
The morning mists were like milky tendrils through the craggy rocks and the thinning trees when Quinn and Douglas stopped their horses and looped the reins around the low branches of a pine tree.
Quinn collected two rifles for them while Douglas removed the small satchels with their food and flasks of water.
“Dangerous day for this.” Douglas pressed his cap on his head and scanned the surrounding lands.
“Aye.” Quinn handed Douglas his rifle.
They began the long climb through the mountains. Despite the danger, the surroundings were eerily beautiful. Half-frozen waterfalls cut down through the jagged rocks. Trees stubborn enough to grow out of stone left sparse patches of dark green against the gray mountains before dipping down into the icy lochs. The cold air burned with each breath, clearing the still muddied thoughts in Quinn’s head.
The weight of a small dagger in his coat pocket felt like a hundred stones. The dagger that had belonged to his father. The note Rowena had written him was burned into his memory.
Quinn,
I’m sorry for all the pain I’ve caused you in coming here. I do not regret marrying you, nor do I regret trying to win your heart and loving you as fiercely as I do. But I was foolish to think I could make you love me so soon. I won’t trouble you again with confessions of love. I hope someday you might find it in your heart to love me a little. Until then, I shall remain yours,
Rowena.
P.S. This dagger was given to me by a woman who said your father was generous enough to lose it to man in a card game so he could support his family. She wanted you to have it back. Your father sounded like a wonderful man and I wish I could have known him.
Quinn adjusted his rifle and bent low as he crawled along a cluster of rocks. The rough stone would have cut his hands if he hadn’t been wearing thick leather gloves. Douglas moved silently beside him.
“Won’t be far now. I think I saw some hinds ahead.”
Squinting, Quinn peered at the sloping mountain ahead of them. A faint flicker of red amidst the gray caught his eye. Eager to climb faster, he placed one foot on a ledge with loose rock. It gave way and he slid, rocks digging into his calves as he regained his footing.
“Careful, milord,” Douglas whispered, a steadying hand touching Quinn’s back.
