Page 58 of Sutherland's Secret
His arm tightened around her. “No, ye are no’.”
She sat up to face him. “I am. You have to know that I am. We were lucky when Blackwood visited the last time, but how many times are we going to get lucky? When will someone let it slip that I’m there? The next time? The time after that? I have to leave, Brice. I have to get away for your safety.”
His jaw was set and he continued to stare into the fire.
She took his hand and held it. “I’m not Alisa. I don’t want to go. I’d do anything to stay, if you would have me, but we both know I can’t.”
He finally looked at her. “Of course I would have ye, but for how long? Ye’re from London. Eventually ye would want to go back and see yer family.” His words were bitter, and they hurt her.
“I’mnotAlisa. But that’s neither here nor there.” She paused. “I have to be on that next ship, Brice. I have to.”
His body went rigid. He sat up, his face set. She put a finger to his lips, silencing the denial that she knew was coming.
“We both know this is the only way. Blackwood won’t search for me in Canada because he can’t. But he can search for me here and in England. It’s my only chance.”
He pushed her finger away and stood to pace to the other side of the hut. It wasn’t that big and took only three of his long strides. He was completely naked, and the firelight played havoc with her senses when it highlighted his body, outlining it in a golden nimbus. His fair hair fell to his shoulders, unbound and uncombed.
He turned to look at her, his face a mixture of grief and fear and anger. “The next ship won’t arrive for another two weeks.”
“I know.” They had two weeks together. Fourteen days. Maybe more if the ship ran late. It would have to be enough. She would make the most of it, creating plenty of memories to last a lifetime.
He ran his hand through his hair. “God, Eleanor.”
She stood and walked toward him to wrap her arms around his waist and lay her head against his chest. She listened to the steady beat of his heart and the working of his lungs.
He put his arms around her and laid his cheek on top of her head while outside the storm raged.
Two weeks. Two weeks to live the rest of her dreams.
—
The next morning the sun shone and everything appeared greener and more lush. Brice made certain the fire was completely out and everything was put in order before he hoisted Eleanor onto the horse and hopped up after her.
They’d not slept much. They’d made love one more time, a sweet coming together that was nothing like the previous lovemaking but just as exquisite.
They’d not talked any more of her sailing to Canada. The thought sickened him, but at the same time he could think of no other solution. As much as he wanted to keep her beside him, he couldn’t put his people in that sort of danger. Nor could he risk theStaran. Too many people counted on it to get out of Scotland. He would put too many people’s lives at risk if he kept Eleanor with him.
Besides, it wasn’t fair to make her live in fear, constantly looking over her shoulder for Blackwood, forever afraid that he would find her. Brice was rarely at home these days, and he would hate himself if he were absent and something happened to her. It all came down to one thing: He couldn’t protect his people and Eleanor at the same time.
But the thought of putting her on that ship, of seeing her off, of saying goodbye to her, knowing he would never see her again…It made him want to rage at the fates. Once again the English were taking away everything he cared about. Would it never end? Would he ever be able to find peace again?
No. Never. Not when he had to give up Eleanor.
He cradled her in his arms. His wound ached, but he refused to voice his pain because that would mean she would move, and he wanted to hold her because he didn’t have many more days to hold her.
He thought back to the night before and their lovemaking. He’d not said anything to her, but he hadn’t pulled out the first time they’d made love. Or the second. Had he gotten her with child? Lord, he hoped not. It would be hard enough for her to start a new life in a new country all alone. Yet a small part of him wanted to send her off with his seed in her belly. His sister and brother-in-law would watch out for her and protect her and the babe if he asked them to.
He shook his head at such foolish thoughts. He’d been irresponsible. If he’d impregnated her, then she would carry and give birth to a babe without its father present. His son or daughter would grow up not knowing him. All because he’d been selfish. And if the babe were a boy? Then his heir would live in Canada, a world away and unable to eventually become chief of the Sutherlands.
Glory be, but he’d made a mess of things.
“What doesmo ghràdhmean?” Eleanor mumbled from the safety of his arms, yanking him from his thoughts.
Brice kissed the top of her head. She was so sleepy, curled in his arms, and so warm and comforting to him. “Mo ghràdhmeans ‘my love.’ ”
She turned her head to look up at him and smiled sleepily. He squeezed her to him. How in the hell was he going to put her on that ship in two weeks?
“I’m your love?” she asked.
