Page 43 of The Wolf and the Wildflower
Her mouth formed a small moue of astonishment.
“A drink ofbrandy?”
“You’ve already started.”
A flush rose on her cheeks. “That was done in secret. This is entirely different. You must absolutely tell no one of this, especially Mama.”
“I can be the soul of discretion.”
She walked over, eyeing him warily. Still, she took the glass, closing her fingers firmly over it as if afraid it might slip through her fingers. Felicity took a small sip, and her lack of grimace or coughing at the strong liquor informed James she had pilfered many times before from his stock. Unexpectedly, he felt a spurt of humor at her daring.
“Why do you look at me so, Your Grace?” she asked with a small, nervous smile.
Your Grace.
“There was a time you called me James…or Jamesy.”
Her fingers tightened on her glass. “You remember?”
“I have not lost my memories of the past.”
Her expression crumbled, and he saw that she struggled not to cry.
“So you’ve remembered me all this time, Your Grace?”
The hurt in her tone scraped against his senses and tugged at something deep inside James that he had long forgotten. Or merely buried. He followed the pathway of the sensation instead of pushing it even further into the recess of where it lingered. Still, he had no wish to share anything with her. How she looked at him, with fearful expectations and a sturdiness that braced for rejection, reminded him of the time she had followed him about as a child. She had done so bravely, and when he had caught her, she had looked this very way, and he’d not had the heart to turn her away even though his friends had laughed at having her underfoot.
He’d chosen her then, leaving their presence to trample through the woods with Felicity and even take her fishing. Since then, his friends had understood that he loved his sister and had gotten used to her following three young gentlemen on several larks.
“In the first couple of years…I thought about you every day.” James couldn’t say why he chose to inform her of this…except it felt right.
The tears that had gathered in her eyes spilled over, and she swiped at them almost angrily.
“Only in those couple of years you thought of me?” she demanded harshly, her light blue eyes flashing with indefinable emotions.
Despite her wounded countenance, he could only provide the unvarnished truth. “Yes.”
She flinched. “Well, I did not stop thinking about you, brother. Not one day I did not pray before I slept, asking God to keep you alive and bring you home.”
A taut silence lingered, and he emptied the content of his glass in a long swallow. Felicity followed, coughing slightly. He refilled their glasses, and though her eyes flared in surprise, she made no protest.
“Why did you stop thinking about me?”
James held her stare, knowing he had no answer to give her.
“You will not answer, will you?” she said with faint accusation ringing in her tone. “You do not care enough to answer.”
She emptied her second drink and walked away. The tight feeling inside his chest worsened, and a hiss slipped from him as he fought against the tearing feel. He owed her nothing…yet he felt like he owed her everything. She was his sister…a person he should love and want to protect with every breath inside of him.
“When I thought of you, it hurt,” he said gruffly.
Felicity stopped and whirled around, pressing a palm over her chest. “What did you say?”
He swallowed down another drink. “If I stopped thinking about you…longing for you and everything that I lost, then I could remain sane…then I could survive being torn from my family and everything I know. I could not hope as you did, for I found hope to be a cruel, endless torment as the days, then months, then years dragged on endlessly. So I stopped hoping to be with you…and here. In that way, Felicity, I lived.”
Silent tears trekked down her cheeks, and she nodded slowly. She did not press him for more but took halting steps closer. “I need to hug you…please.”
Every instinct recoiled.
