Light to Valhalla (47 page)

“Hi.
”
The b
o
y set his toy block on the table and tentatively l
aid his hand in Alex’s palm
.
Alex
gulped
.
The
child’s miniature, milky skin
lay in stark relief against the tanned flesh of his
battered, calloused
palm
.
Everything about Jack was so tiny and fragile, so completely innocent, in complete opposite of him
.
Not a single scar marred the boy’s soft skin an
d Alex would give his left arm
to see nothi
ng ever did
.
This was his child
.
His son
.
A piece of the brothers he’d lost
.
He sat, humbled by
the perfection before him
.
In this moment nothing in the world could be more important than spending time with Jack
.
All Alex wanted was to wrap him in his arms and protect him from the world
.

“I’m your Daddy.”

*
             
*
             
*

             
Sunlight peeked through the window shades, warming Charley’s face
.
Reluctantly she woke,
wanting nothing more than to hide in the blissf
ul oblivion sleep offered
.
Out of
instinct, and more than a little secret longing,
she stretched her arm out, reaching for Alex, but found nothing more than cold, empty sheets
.
He’d left
.
Heartbroken, she sighed, and finally sat
.
She hated this lon
e
liness
.

             
Charley slung her legs around the edge of the bed and raked her finge
rs through her hair
.
A stack
of
folded
paper
s
on Alex’s pillow caught her eye
.
She lifted the packet and tilted
them into the sliver of sunlight
peaking
through the curtains
.
“Oh, my.
”
A hand flew to her mouth
.
Letters… to her… from Alex?

             
Another loose note sat on top of the pillow
.

             
             
I found these missing letters this morning
.
It seems my mother’s been
intercepting our correspondence for some years now.

All my love,

—Alex

P. S. Meet us in the nursery at
seven
o’clock.

             
Charley ran her fingers over the bold script
, a measure of her faith restored
.

             
Us?

             
Intrigued, Charley smiled and glanced at the clock
before scooping
up the dated letters and
cozying into the
pillows to read
.
She leafed
through t
he pages, glancing at the dates
—seven letters in all, most fro
m 1810 and
two from early
1811
.
Ensured the letters were in proper order—she’d hate to read them out of sequence—she turned to the first and hungrily devoured the lost words
.

             
             
Dear Charlotte,

I was most pleased to receive a letter from you today
.
After the debacle of our wedding and my deplorable behavior
before and after
I had assumed you’d wish me to hell and be done with it
.
Yours is the
first
word
to arrive from home
, and a much needed distraction from the unending boredom of camp
.
I do hate to be left with my own thoughts overly long
.
Word is my regiment will be moving into Spain soon
…

             
Each letter was much the same, fairly brief and outlining the events of day to day life
.
One lamented the loss of fifty pounds in a card game while another spoke of a torrential rainstorm lasting the better part of a week
.
Little personal emotion or flowery words existed in the correspondence but Charley wouldn’t have expected more from Alex
.
As the letters progressed, the pages became shorter and further between until they dwindled into nothing
.
No doubt because he believed she did not wish to hear from him.

             
A lump formed in her throat
.
S
o m
uch misunderstanding…  How much of the turmoil linge
ring
in the back of her mind for three years could have been prevented if she’d received just one of these notes?

*
             
*
             
*

             
A little before seven
o’clock
Charley
paused outside the nursery door, heart hammering
, and smoothed a hand along her skirts
.
Soundlessly she peered around the corner of the door and the sight meeting her gaze warmed her heart until she thought her chest might swell and burst
.
Alex sat in the wooden rocking chair, a book rested on one thigh, Jack sleeping on the other
.
There was something undeniably attractive… sensual even… about a
strong
man
cuddling a child
.
Unwittingly she put a hand to her belly.

             
As though sensing her presence, Alex looked up, gaze soft and full of peace
.
Their eyes locked and he smiled, waving her in with his free arm
.

             
With the words of his long forgotten letters fresh on her mind she obeyed the unspoken command, r
eminiscent
of a bygone day and ready for
a little peace
between them.

             
“Charley, I don’t think you’ve been properly introduced
to my son,
”
he whispered, shifting
the sleeping boy
into the crook of his elbow
.
“Jack, here fell asleep before our
scheduled
rendezvous so
he’ll have to meet you later
.”

             
She laughed
, sashaying forward, relaxing because he was so obviously relaxed
.
“Quite alright
.
We’ll have plenty of time to get to know each
other.
”
She didn’t have the heart to tell him she’d
already
been spending time with his s
on for quite a
while
.

             
Alex leaned back, lids at half-mast
.
“I could get used to this,” he murmured, smoothing a hand over Jack’s blond hair
.
“Being a family man.”

“I could t
o,” she murmured, startled to have spoken the words aloud.

Alex
fixed her with a level stare
.
“You know the only thing we’re missing?”

             
“What’s that?”

             
“A baby girl.”

*
             
*
             
*

Three days later Charley left her rooms
, dressed in a merry pink frock,
humming
Greensleeves
, and
in better spirits than she’d experienced in weeks
.
A snowbird tittered along the windowsill at the end of
the hall and Charley smiled, waving
at the cheery creature before tripping down the stairs into the brigh
tly lit hall
.

Perhaps Alex would accompany her for a little Christmas shopping today
.
The holiday
w
as f
ast approaching and
it was probably her turn to suggest an
outing
.
He’d been extremely attentive, in
viting her for some small excursion or
dinner
alone every day
.
They’d spent a great deal of time
together
with Jack
—he really was the sweetest child—
and
while
she and Alex
each danced neatly around discussing any topic of importance
,
Charley was beginning to see a glimmer of hope
for the family life she’d always dreamed of
.

After the d
eliberate attack on her saddle
and quite probably her life
, Alex had
been attentive and overprotective to a fault
.
She loved it
.
And
her
trust in him
was steadily regaining ground
.

In search of her husband
she peered into the dining room where
remnants of
breakfast
still sat on the side tables
and the smell of
cold
bacon
sent her stomach reeling
.

She meandered down the hall toward the kitchen in search of a cup of weak tea, thinking back to the last time she’d seen him
.
Yesterday afternoon… a little after three o’clock perhaps?
 
He’d gone to a meeting of some sort… though he hadn’t mentioned what.
“Where could he have
got off to?” she murmured to herself.

Mrs. Roark’s voice drifted through the cracked door of the servant’s sitting room
.
“Lord
Coverstone
left
home
before the sun was up this morning
, I tell
ye
.”

Charley
stopped short
.

“Did he now?”
another female voice prodded.

“Oh, aye
.
Received a missive of some sort and left not five minutes thereafter
.
Then,
when I saw M
rs. Peabody at the market
she told me that she watched him
enter
Chrisington
House
this very morn
.”

Charley
gasped, hands flying to her mouth
.
Chrisington
House?
  It couldn’t be
.
Anywhere but Veronica’s residence
.
Pain gripped her chest, twisting and wrenching until surely her heart would rip apart
.
All that newfound trust evaporated
.
Here she’d believed they’d been making progress that Alex was be
ing
truthful
and becoming the man she’d dreamed he could be
.
Now she feared
he’d
been feeding her more lines, nothing but w
ords meant to placate her so she would remain at his side to keep up appearances
.

A vision of Alex and Veronica locked in a lovers tangle flashed through her mind
.
She shuddered,
and ran down the hall
.
The brittle click of her shoes sliced through the air like little shards of glass or daggers
.
She envisioned those shards jabbing into Alex
.
Not enough to kill him, but painful enough to scar and maim
.
She stopped short
.
Listen to her!  Apparently pregnancy made her violent
.
Emotional and violent
.
But as long as she was violent, she was angry, and as long as she was angry she was not devastated or mourning the loss of her marriage
.
Tears trembled at the base of her lids, threatening to spill forth, but she blinked them back, dragging a deep breath into her tight lungs
.
She had shed enough tears for the man who lied to her and snuck to another woman’s bed in the light of day… before breakfast even.