Moon Dreams (41 page)

“Lass, I wish your gift would give you understanding and not
pictures of nightmares. Why would you think I did not like you anymore?”

“What else should I think? You had to get drunk to marry me.
You made love to your pink canary, but not to me. You hurt me terribly, then
tell me I’m on my own. You avoid me as if I have the plague. You didn’t even
want to bring me here. I try very hard to understand, Rory, but what else
should I think?”

If he were a weeping man, he’d weep at how badly he had
communicated his fears. But a man was not supposed to admit the weaker
emotions, and so he had not explained himself. He did not know how, even now.

Instead, he swung her up in his arms. “Devil take it, Alys,
is that how it seems to you? What a pair we make.”

Despairing at the gulf separating them, he deposited her on
the bed, yanking back the heavy covers so she could slip beneath their warmth.
Gingerly he sat down upon the bed’s edge and tried to gather his scattered
wits.

“Will you tell me what this is of a pink canary? You have
mentioned such before, but I think I would remember anything so ludicrous as
pecking at a bird.”

Alyson slid her toes down in the bed and pulled the blankets
over her knees. “She’s not really a bird. You know who I mean. All that blond
hair and pink ribbons and frilly lace. Don’t tell me you never made love to
her, Rory Douglas. I
saw
her, and you
didn’t act as if she were a stranger.”

Minerva. Rory stretched his legs and stared at his knee-high
boots. “Alyson, I don’t expect you to believe me, but until you came along, I
couldn’t remember the name of a single woman I’d ever gone to bed with. They
were few and far between and I’m not at all certain that I even
knew
their names. I seldom spent more
than a few hours in their company. Then, there you were, all wide-eyed and
innocent and more tempting than any woman has a right to be. I knew I couldn’t
have you, so after I left you in Charleston, I looked for someone else. Your
pink canary served the purpose of distracting me for a few nights when you were
not near. She ceased to exist the moment I set eyes on you again.”

Alyson sat silent, digesting that information. Rory prayed
that she would believe him. How could he have let anyone so useless as Minerva
to come between him and the treasure that was Alyson?

She seemed to be studying his
legs
. Was that a good or bad sign?

“You had best take off your boots if you wish to join me,”
she admonished him.

Hope flared, and then, as he studied her carefully blank
expression, he almost laughed at his eagerness. She had merely traded his boots
for her pink canary. That was a long way from where he wanted to be, but much
closer than he had been in months.

Pulling off one boot and resting his stocking against the
floor to pry at the other, he noticed the cold bare planks. He glanced down at
the uncovered wood with perplexity. “Lass, what have you done with your carpet?
You’ll freeze your toes on these cold boards.”

“I thought to have one woven,” she said. “I know there is
wool aplenty hereabouts. I need only locate looms and weavers. It would not
cost so much to have one made, would it? And it would keep the money here,
where it is needed.”

Her soft, careful words shot an arrow straight through Rory’s
hard heart. He had done nothing but harm her, but still she had tried to please
him. Guilt seared him, but he was still oddly thrilled that she had thought of
his wishes. Dropping the second boot to the floor, he leaned back on one hand
to better study her face in the shadows.

“Alys, I did not expect to feed my people at your expense.
It will be years before there are looms and weavers enough to produce a carpet
such as you need. The thought was a good one, but I’ll not have you take cold
because of it. Order a carpet and have mine brought in here until it arrives.”

“
Our
people,”
Alyson insisted indignantly, if not to the point. “These are my lands as well
as yours. My mother grew up here too. I have responsibilities as well as you.”

Rory had always known she was intelligent, but each day
brought a new surprise at the number of things she grasped and accepted without
being told. Not easy things, but difficult concepts that most women would balk
at and most men argue over. She was the granddaughter of an English earl,
raised in luxury. What could she know of the harsh environs of his home?

“Aye, you have responsibilities, lass, and that child you
carry is one of them. I’ll have the carpet moved in the morning.” Rory knew
better than to allow her to distract him. He had to feel he held some semblance
of control—otherwise, things could get amazingly out of hand when Alyson was
around.

Alyson eyed the pressed tailoring of his good velvet coat and
changed the subject. “I don’t think you should wrinkle your good coat and vest
by sleeping in them.”

Rory’s confidence rose as he gazed upon the tumble of his
wife’s silken curls and read the challenge in her eyes. One wrong move might
easily land him shivering on the cold, hard floor, but he had ever enjoyed a
challenge. The prize to be won if he played this game fairly was worth the
effort of minding the rules, if only he knew what they were.

Alyson dropped her blanket and helped pull off his coat as
he shrugged out of it. He stood and hung it over a chair, then slid off the long
vest beneath it. Folding that over the coat, he returned to the bed in shirt
and breeches, not daring so much as to loosen his jabot or remove his stockings
for fear of unsettling the balance between them.

Freed from the cumbersome coat, he lay back against the
pillow, propping his hands behind his head as he gazed up into Alyson’s
fathomless eyes. She appeared puzzled as to what to do next, but if he went
slowly, he would have a lifetime in which to teach her. He let his gaze drift
over the fullness of her bosom, concealed beneath the modest shift, to the
thickening of her waist, where their child grew.

“Dougall tells me Myra is an experienced midwife. I had it
in mind to ask them to stay awhile.” Rory took the reins of the conversation,
leading it in the direction he wanted.

Alyson glanced down to her belly, her cheeks reddened, and
she slid beneath the covers, bumping against his legs on top of the covers. It
had been a long time since they had been this close, but the sensation had not
dimmed with time. If anything, his need for her had only grown stronger.

“I think I would like that,” she responded uncertainly. “But
who would sail the
Witch?”

“Do not concern yourself over those matters, lass. I want to
hear of the child. Does he rest well? Does he give you trouble? I know you did
not want this burden. I would make the time easier for you if I could.”

Tears formed in her eyes. “I have wanted so much to speak of
the child. I thought you did not want it.”

Rory closed his eyes and wished the Almighty would smite him
now. “I want this child as much as I want you, dear heart, more than I want air
to breathe or sun to shine. I just did not think you wanted
me.
”

She frowned and turned on her side so she could study him. “I
cannot believe fancy words any longer. Do you truly wish to hear of the babe?”

Afraid to make even the slightest move toward her, Rory
strained for patience. Beating his head against a wall would not help, so he
nodded.

“It just feels so very strange,” she murmured, continuing as
if he’d made no desperate declaration. “I sleep too much, and the oddest things
make me cry. And he grows so quickly, I fear soon I will not fit in a single
gown.”

It took every ounce of his strength not to reach out and
pull her to him. Rory squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated on the subtle
fragrance that was Alyson’s own, on the warmth of her slight body next to his.
Nothing could alleviate the growing pressure in his loins, but he knew Alyson’s
thoughts were not yet turned in that direction. He feared they might never be
again, but he wouldn’t give up trying.

“I will buy new gowns for you every month, if you wish, dear
heart. You will be beautiful in all of them. I just don’t want you to hate me
for what I did out of foolishness.”

“We acted out of lust and not love,” she whispered sadly.
“I’d promised myself not to do so again.” Alyson caressed the bulge of her
belly, then lifted her hand to loosen Rory’s jabot. “I was angry with you, but
I don’t hate you. I could never hate you. Perhaps I’ll never understand what
you expect from me, but I’m not unhappy. I’m even growing used to the idea of a
baby, if I just wasn’t so frightened by it. I’ve never even held a baby before.”

Rory caught her fingers and pressed them to his lips. Her
every word tore at his soul. For fifteen years he had built a protective armor
against the world, and she was ripping it into shreds as if it were made of the
rottenest of fabric.

“Alyson, my love, I would give all I own and am to have done
this differently or to make it easier for you. I am as terrified as you. I’ve
never been responsible for taking care of a life as precious as yours. To add
to that the needs of a wee bairn . . . It scares me witless. But
then I think of all the others who have done it through the ages, and I know
the two of us can do it, even in our ignorance, if we learn to help each other.”

Without apparent thought, Alyson began toying with the soft
feathering of curls beneath his shirt. “I had thought you fearless. It seems
odd to think of such a strong man fearing a defenseless babe. You will be a
good father, I think, if you can only learn to stay home a little. Will you
ever do that, or will you always be restless to be off elsewhere?”

Astounded at this train of thought, Rory wrenched his mind
away from the pleasant sensation of her bare hand against his flesh. “Lass, if
I had my choice, I’d never set foot from my own ground again. I’ve had enough
of traveling homeless. I want to sit by my own fire with my wife at my side and
my children at my feet. That is my dream, though I’ll be the first to admit it
is far from being accomplished. Perhaps it is but a moon dream.”

Alyson pushed up on her elbow to lean over him. Her long
hair fell across his chest and shoulders, and Rory caught strands of it between
his fingers as she spoke.

“For a man who wishes never to leave home, you certainly
spend little of it there. I scarcely see you except to pass you in the hall
upon occasion. Your children will think you a stranger if that is all they know
of you.”

Your children. He liked the sound of that. He liked even
better the way she leaned over him so he could see the full orbs of her breasts
behind the loose neck of her shift. The urgings of his loins made it
exceedingly difficult to think, but he had made too much progress to abandon
restraint now.

Knowing he made impossible promises when his dreams were of
a home owned by another man, Rory spoke as if dreams could come true. “Lass, if
you had any idea what you are doing to me now, you would know why I cannot stay
in the same room with you for more than the space of a minute. And since no
other woman but you suits my needs, I must keep busy elsewhere to keep my hands
as well as my mind off you. Should the time come when you no longer fear my
touch, you would soon be praying for a moment’s peace.”

Apparently realizing what she was doing, Alyson retreated.
Rory’s hand rose to keep her from retreating, but then he determinedly returned
it behind his head.

“You stay away because of me?” she asked in puzzlement. “Why?
Did I not tell you I was willing to be your wife?”

Rory tried to control his breathing. She had not moved far.
He could still reach over and press her against his side. He just had to learn
to control his natural instincts.

“Alyson, I have seen how you flinch when I reach out, how you
avoid me when we are in the same room. I have no intention of ever hitting you
again, but I do not know how to make you understand that. I do not want a
victim for my lust, but a warm and willing woman who shares my needs and
desires.”

He had never been so blunt before, and Alyson regarded him
with curiosity. “I thought you resented having to marry me. The pink canary is
much more beautiful than I. How can you still desire me even when I am fat and
garbed in ugly woolens all the time?”

Rory laughed ruefully. “Alyson, dear heart, you need only
use your lovely eyes to see how much I desire you. I am near to bursting with
need for my fat, ugly wife. It has been this way since I first set eyes on you.
If I remember correctly, you were wrapped in a hideous cloak that smelled of
the stables that day, but I would have gladly taken you to my bed even then. I
forced you to marry me because I did not think I could live without you. I knew
better than to cage a wild thing, but I possessed so little and wanted so much,
I convinced myself you’d be safer with me than in the wild.”

As he spoke, Alyson’s gaze dropped to the bulge pushing at
the tight cloth of his breeches. She knew what waited behind that flap of
cloth, and her cheeks flamed crimson. She could not forget the harm he had
caused, but the beautiful times before that took precedence. Memories of warm
summer nights when they had lain naked together in a narrow bunk, learning the
pleasures of their bodies, came back unbidden. Unthinkingly, she touched him
there, and his response stirred a deep excitement, a temptation she remembered
embarrassingly well.

She lifted her eyes to Rory’s as her hand tested the promise
of his words. She stroked harder and he gave an involuntary shudder. The
smoldering intensity of his gaze became a blaze that lit wildfires everywhere
it touched. He wanted her, but he would not take her, even though her touch caused
him to tremble with need. She had never realized the power she held over him.
Stunned, she did not push away, but neither had she the knowledge to go
further.