That was a difficult chore in the months that followed. Nicholas kept an eagle eye on Daisy, making sure she didn’t overextend herself. She obeyed him because she wanted the child to be born healthy.
The first time the baby moved, she and Nicholas were in bed together. They had just made love. She took his hand in the darkened bedroom and placed it on her rounded belly.
“Feel, Nicholas. That’s our child.”
Nicholas laid his fingertips against her bare skin and waited for perhaps a count of ten before he felt it. A small bubble of movement.
“I felt something!” he exclaimed in delight and surprise.
For Nicholas it was the most powerful experience of his life. He hadn’t been allowed near Evie while their child was inside her, so this was all new to him. He tried not to regret missing all this with Colin. He made up his mind to enjoy everything with Daisy.
“What does it feel like inside you when she moves?” he asked. “Does it hurt?”
“Not at all. When he moves it feels … like there’s someone stretching, I suppose, inside my skin.”
Nicholas laid his cheek against her stomach and waited for it to happen again. “I guess she’s gone to sleep.”
“So should we,” Daisy said with a yawn.
A few moments later they were both wide awake as Nicholas kissed his way across her belly and down between her thighs. They finally fell asleep as dawn was breaking.
Since both Daisy and Priss were pregnant at the same time, it was difficult for the two of them to get together. Neither husband wanted his wife traveling the roads in winter. Priss was nearing term, and Daisy’s pregnancy was precarious.
The two women weren’t about to be denied each other’s company until spring. They got their husbands to agree to a winter picnic on a warm, sunny day in late December, at a hunting box halfway between the two properties. Of course, Colin and Roanna were invited, too.
Servants were sent ahead to make sure fires had been laid to ward of any chill in the house and to prepare food for the picnic. The hunting box wasn’t as small as its name implied, and turned out to have four bedrooms upstairs.
“I don’t want to imagine the sorts of parties that have been held here through the years,” Daisy said to Priss as they rambled through the house searching out all its secrets.
“I can imagine,” Priss said with a smile. “My brother has told me a few stories that would raise the hair on your head.”
To make it seem more like a picnic, they had moved the furniture out of the main room and laid blankets on the floor in front of a huge stone fireplace big enough to hold the two-foot-wide, four-foot-long log that Nicholas and Charles had dropped into it. There had been a light snow the night before, and snug inside with the crackling fire to lend warmth, it was a perfect site for a picnic.
The three couples, parents and children, had an easy time making conversation. Since both women were expecting, they talked about babies. Having raised Colin, Nicholas was able to add a few war stories of his own.
Nicholas watched Daisy for signs of fatigue, and when he saw them, he insisted they retire upstairs so she could take an afternoon nap. Charles knew a good idea when he heard it, and ushered Priss upstairs, as well.
There were servants around, but otherwise Colin and Roanna were left alone in front of the fireplace.
“I suppose I should get up and seat myself in a chair,” Roanna said. She was on the floor with her hands hugging her bent knees.
“I can’t see any good reason to move at all,” Colin said. He was lying stretched out in front of the fire with his head held up by one hand.
“Your father takes very good care of Daisy,” Roanna noted. “Do you think he’s fallen in love with her?”
Colin sat up and leaned an elbow on one knee. “I don’t know. Sometimes I think he has. But he hasn’t changed his mind about selling Severn. At least, not as far as I’ve been able to tell.”
“What will happen to them?”
“I don’t know,” Colin said. “I only hope my father comes to his senses soon enough to realize what he’s going to lose if he leaves Daisy behind and heads back to Texas alone.”
Roanna was silent. She was hoping the same thing occurred to Colin.
“Tell me more about Texas,” she said. She listened for an hour to stories of roundups and branding cattle and taming bucking broncs. Texas sounded fascinating.
But the more Colin spoke, the more Roanna realized he had cut her out of any pictures he had of the future. She worried her lower lip, wondering if she should advise him that she had plans for the future that definitely included him.
Whatever she might have said was lost in the commotion that occurred when Charles came racing down the stairs.
“Send someone for a doctor. Priss is in labor.”
Daisy and Nicholas quickly joined Charles in the bedroom where Priss lay, her teeth clenched against a powerful contraction.
“I knew I shouldn’t have agreed to this,” Charles raved. “This is all my fault.”
The contraction ended, and Priss said with a lopsided grin, “I’m at least half to blame for my condition, Charles. Although I wish I’d recognized that backache this morning for what it was.”
“I knew you didn’t feel well. Didn’t I ask you again and again before we left if you were feeling all right?”
“You certainly did, Charles. And if I hadn’t wanted to see Daisy so much I might have admitted how I really felt. But that’s all water under the bridge now. I suppose our first child is going to be born in a hunting box after a December picnic. That will give us a wonderful story to tell our grandchildren, won’t it, Charles?”
She grabbed his hand and gasped in pain as another cramp rose and tightened around her belly.
Nicholas had reached for Daisy’s hand and held on. He hadn’t seen this part, either, when Colin was born. And he didn’t like it one bit. He glanced at Daisy and saw the fear in her eyes. He wasn’t sure whether she was remembering the loss of her own child, or worrying about Priss.
Daisy was remembering.
Waves of pain, endless pain. Being thirsty, so thirsty, and no one would give her a drink. Clutching the bedsheets and writhing in agony. Screaming.
Feeling the child claw its way out of her body, tearing her apart, leaving her limp and exhausted.
And bleeding. So much blood on the sheets, on her gown. Until her skin was like parchment, and she knew she was going to die. And wanted to die, because she had been told the child, a little boy, was dead.
She had felt like crying, but there wasn’t enough fluid left in her body to make tears. Her throat had ached, and it had been impossible to swallow.
But she hadn’t died. She had lived to suffer through the grief of losing her child. And losing her husband, long before he was dead.
Daisy raised her eyes to meet the duke’s gaze. It wasn’t going to happen like that this time. She was going to bear a healthy child. That way, even if Nicholas left her, she would not be alone. She would always have a part of him with her.
Nicholas’s hand tightened on hers, “I never knew it was this hard,” he said. “I never knew.”
He was afraid for her.
Daisy felt a smile growing on her face. “Women are hardy creatures, Your Grace. Priss will do fine.” She paused and added, “So will I.”
Five hours later, Priss delivered a healthy baby boy. Charles beamed as he handed Nicholas a cigar. “I have a son. Alexander, Viscount Clifton.”
“Congratulations, Charles. I’m happy for you.”
“Thanks, Nick. I promise to be there for you when the time comes, and we’ll drink a toast to your son or daughter.”
Nicholas quickly turned away from Charles. He didn’t want his friend to see his terror. What if Daisy wasn’t strong enough to suffer through ail that pain? What if she didn’t survive?
For the first time he forced himself to imagine life without Daisy. It was bleak. Lonely.
What kind of gudgeon
was he, to think he could ever leave her? Why did he have to sell Severn at all? Who said he had to go back to Texas? He was Severn. Nobody told him what to do.
But there were risks, serious risks to such a future. She might not ever love him. She might betray him.
Hell, Nicholas thought. What was life without a little risk?
21
“I’ve always loved the crocus,” Roanna said. “Because they’re the first sign of spring.” She turned to Colin and let her eyes linger on him. “But this year I wish they hadn’t searched out the sunlight. At least not so soon.”
Colin tethered his horse to a nearby poplar that was just beginning to bud, and Roanna did the same. He reached for her hand, threading his fingers with hers, and they strolled along a rise that overlooked Severn. The early March wind was brisk, and he let go of her hand and pulled her close, slipping an arm around her shoulder so they might share the warmth of each other’s bodies.
Over the winter they had managed to see each other. Not often and seldom in private, but it had been enough to allow their relationship to develop into something more than the simple friendship Colin had hoped to maintain between them.
Roanna kept her head bowed, so Colin only had a view of the feathers on her riding hat. “I’ll be leaving soon,” he said.
“I know.”
Colin felt like he had a great weight on his chest. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—ask for what he wanted from Roanna, because he knew it wasn’t what was best for her. His hand tightened around her shoulder. She stopped and turned and laid her cheek against his chest. His arms slid around her shoulders as her arms slid around his waist. They held each other close, saying nothing, with the early March wind biting at them and the sun doing its best to warm the still-frozen earth.
“Another suitor has spoken to my father,” Roanna said. She felt Colin stiffen. “Father gave him permission to court me.”
“Who is it?” Nicholas forced himself to ask.
“The Marquess of Brookfield.”
“A marquess. That would be quite a coup for you, Roanna.”
Roanna pushed herself away from Colin and glared up at him. “You, of all people, should know better than to say something like that to me.”
“If the shoe fits—”
“It might have, once upon a time,” Roanna interrupted angrily. “But no more. Not since … since I met you.”
“I’m leaving England, Roanna. You’d better consider the marquess’s offer.” That wasn’t at all what Colin had wanted to say, but he had convinced himself there was no future for the two of them. He felt too vulnerable, knowing he wasn’t going to ask her to marry him, to admit how he really felt about her. She had hurt him badly once. He wasn’t going to give her the chance to do it again.
Roanna was in an equally uncomfortable position. Over the past few months she had lost her heart to plain Mr. Calloway from America. Her father didn’t approve of the match, and as a minor she couldn’t marry without his consent. If Colin had given the least sign that he was willing to ask for her hand, she would have moved heaven and earth to convince her father to let her marry him. If that had failed, she would willingly have run away with him.
But she couldn’t propose marriage herself. And it appeared Colin wouldn’t.
Roanna had one last tactic she hadn’t tried to get Colin to declare himself. It was a desperate measure, but time was running out, and it was now or never.
She laid her hand on Colin’s jaw and let her fingertips roam up toward his ear.
“What are you doing, Roanna?” The band around Colin’s chest tightened a little more so that now he was having serious trouble breathing.
“I’m touching you, Colin.”
“I know that. But why? What are you hoping to prove?”
“That you want me. That you need me.” Her fingers had found their way into his hair and were stroking their way down to his nape.
Colin shivered. “I don’t think this is a good idea, Roanna.”
“Why not?” She applied gentle pressure on his nape to draw his head down toward hers. Her eyes were locked on his. She licked her lips nervously, then rose on tiptoes to bring their mouths together.
Their lips clung sweetly, gently. Roanna hadn’t realized how soft Colin’s mouth could be. She had imagined this moment a hundred times since the last time he had kissed her. But reality was so much better than fantasy.
Colin groaned in frustration as their lips parted.
Roanna swallowed over the lump in her throat and said using his name for the first time, “Please, Colin.”
Colin lifted his head and looked down into blue eyes swimming with tears. They both knew what she was asking. Not just for a kiss, but for a promise. It was one he couldn’t make.
Colin knew what he had to do. And why. He took a step back from her and let his hands drop to his sides. “No, Roanna.”
“Why not, Colin? Give me one good reason why not?”
He raised a hand and brushed exquisitely silky golden curls away from her temple. “Your father is smarter than you think, Roanna. You wouldn’t do well in Texas. It’s not at all like England. There are no maids to bring you breakfast and dress you in silks and velvets. There are no grooms to saddle your horse and cool him down. There are no tenants to do the work and provide you with an income every year to spend as you wish.
“You weren’t raised to suffer adversity and survive hardship. There’s no place for an English lady in Texas.”
“I can change,” Roanna pleaded. “I have changed.”
Colin sadly shook his head. “Not quickly enough. Not deep down where it counts. You would hate the only kind of life I can offer you. Working with your hands until they had thick calluses, having your skin burned brown by the sun, getting your face chapped by hot winds in summer and blue northers in winter. Building fires, hauling water, cooking, cleaning. Pretty soon you’d hate me for taking you away from the only life you’ve ever known.”
His hand trailed down to her quivering chin, which he brushed with his thumb. “And I would hate that,” he said in a very soft voice.
“I want to remember you like this, Roanna,” Colin said. “With your milk-white cheeks flushed by the cold wind and your blue eyes sparkling with the promise of spring.”
“Oh, Colin!”
Colin dragged Roanna into his arms and hugged her tight. “You’ll thank me for this someday,” he managed to say past the lump that had formed in his throat.
“I already hate you for being so reasonable and rational.” Roanna swallowed back her tears and said fiercely, “I’ll never forget you, Colin.”
“I’m not likely to forget you, either,” Colin murmured. He pushed her away and took her hand, lacing her fingers with his for the last time. “It’s time to go back, Roanna.”
“Promise me you’ll come say good-bye before you leave,” Roanna pleaded.
Colin groaned inwardly as he thought of having to see Roanna once more before he left England. This parting was difficult enough. He wasn’t sure he could face her a second time and say good-bye without throwing away all his good intentions. But he couldn’t deny her. “I promise,” he said.
When he came, Roanna thought, she would get him to tell her on which ship he planned to sail. She planned to be on it, too. With a whole ocean voyage ahead of them, she would have plenty of time to persuade him that she would make him a good wife.
She hadn’t bothered denying any of his carefully planned speech about how she wouldn’t make him a good wife. He didn’t know the Warennes. They had come to England with William the Conqueror and had been fighting ever since. She came of good warrior stock. She could do anything, if she set her mind to it. Surely Colin couldn’t ask more of a wife than that.
What was more important, she loved him. And she was almost certain he loved her. He hadn’t said the words, but then she didn’t need them. Only a man who loved her as much as Colin did would be so ridiculously noble as to try and talk her out of marrying him.
They rode back to Rockland Park in silence. He left her in front of the stable.
“Don’t forget your promise,” she called as he rode away.
Colin called himself ten kinds of fool as he put some distance between himself and Roanna. She was willing to leave everything behind and go with him to America. And he had refused to ask her to join him. He knew he had made the best choice for her; he wasn’t sure he had done himself any favors. He wanted her physically almost more than he could bear. But he knew when he was back in Texas what he would miss most was the woman who had become his best friend.
Colin rode past the manor house at Severn on his way to the stable in back of it. Along the way, he saw his father walking with Daisy in the rose garden behind the house. She was nearing full term, with only three weeks left before she was to deliver. She was huge and unwieldy, and Colin didn’t doubt she needed the arm his father was using to support her. She had passed the danger of miscarriage, but he knew his father feared the delivery just as much.
He had seen his father watching Daisy when he thought no one was looking, his eyes shadowed with fear. He hoped for both their sakes that the child was born healthy.
Colin unsaddled Buck and gave him a ration of oats before he headed back toward the house.
His talk with Roanna had been only one of the good-byes he was being forced to endure. He had spoken recently with his father about his desire to return home, to Texas.
“I got a letter from Simp,” he had told his father. “He wants to know when we’re setting sail for home.”
“In the spring,” his father had replied.
“When in the spring, Pa? March? April? May?”
“Don’t try pinning me down, Colin,” he replied irritably. “I can’t make any decision until the child is born.”
Colin hadn’t really been surprised that his father refused to commit to a date for leaving England. He had sensed his father’s growing attachment to the land. And to Daisy. Colin had often wondered, as he watched Daisy with his father through the fall and winter and into the spring, how they managed to spend so much time together and ignore the confrontation everyone knew was coming when the baby arrived.
The Inheritance Page 30
