by Vella, Wendy
“I am well. Thank you for your care of me, Essie.” He didn’t know what had happened, but knew this cousin would have had a hand in it. “I will call a hackney and return to the ship.”
“No, you won’t. You’re not going anywhere until I say so.”
“I am strong enough to leave.”
“No, you are not.” Essie had a glint in her eye. “I will say when you can leave, and it will not be until then, Harry. You will not test me on this. I know what is best for my patients. Now, I’ll alert the others Fleur has been found, Maddie. You give him his medicine, and don’t take any of his nonsense. I’ll return soon.”
Maddie reluctantly took the tray that was handed to her, and who could blame her for that? He was being an ass.
“She is right. You cannot leave, Harry.”
“I have been making my own decisions for years. This is no different.”
She raised her eyes to the ceiling. “Lord save me from stubborn men.”
“I am not stubborn,” Harry said, sounding exactly that. “And keep your voice lowered, or you’ll wake Fleur.”
“Is there a reason you are behaving like an ill-tempered child, Harry?”
“I wish to return to my ship, as I stated before. I have men there who will care for and watch over me.”
“Very likely, and yet here is where you will get the best care, and as you are not five years old, but an adult, perhaps you could try and understand that.”
“Where did you get that dress?” And those words were the ones that came out of your mouth? Harry thought, disgusted with himself. He was an intelligent man; perhaps he should start behaving like one.
“I found it on the street. Quite a shock, and the perfect fit.”
He wouldn’t laugh at seeing this fire in her. Before, she’d been quiet and scared. That was changing.
“Now open up and take your medicine, and I will leave you to your misery and take my daughter with me.”
“You’ve changed.”
“Since last night? That was quick.”
She moved to the other side of the bed, away from where Fleur slept, then slid her hand under his shoulders, which pressed him to her chest briefly. In his current state, his body should not be reacting as it was.
“Open up.”
“I can take it myself.”
“Very well.” She handed it to him.
Harry swallowed it quickly, refusing to shudder as the noxious concoction slid down his throat.
“Tell me what happened yesterday.”
“You were shot.” She replaced the glass on the tray with a definite snap. Looking at Fleur, he noticed she still slept, snuffling softly.
“After that.”
“You were brought here, and… ah, well, treated.”
He gripped her wrist as she went to grab the tray once more, urging her to where he could see her clearly.
“What happened?”
Her cheeks had filled out, even in the brief time she’d been here. She looked healthier. There were still shadows under her eyes, but lack of sleep would do that.
“I know about what they can do. Do you?” Harry asked.
She nodded.
“And that shocked you?”
“I had never seen such things before. What I witnessed…” Her words fell away. “Are you… do you also…”
“I do. I can see like Wolf and Dev.”
“When they told me, I did not want to believe it, and yet I witnessed it.”
“Tell me what happened. Please,” Harry added.
“The connection they have, the Sinclairs, and then the Ravens with them. They saved you. Essie cleaned the wound, and they all touched each other, forming a link between them. Lilly touched you, and I felt the heat as my hand was on your head.”
“She healed me?”
“Dev would not let her do so completely, as it takes a toll on her, but yes, partially. So you would not get infected. I know what I saw, Harry, but I don’t understand it.”
“I have never understood it and yet always lived with it. Until I met them, I did not realize I was not alone in what I experienced.”
“They are both wonderful and terrifying,” she whispered.
“We are not terrifying, Maddie.”
“We? Do you see them as your family now then?”
And just like that, he remembered. Never trust a Sinclair. He was betraying his father by being here, by trusting them.
“No. I will leave here soon, and then England. I will not come back.” He released her.
“Of course.” She hurried around the bed and scooped up her daughter before he could stop her. “Good day.”
Harry rested his head again on the pillows after she left. He touched the place where Fleur had slept; it was still warm from her little body. His hand then slid beneath the blankets and gripped Maddie’s scarf.
She was nothing to him, just as they were nothing to him. He could not allow that to ever happen. His life was not here in London with a woman who tugged at places inside him he had not known existed.
Sinclairs cannot be trusted, he reminded himself as his eyes closed. Sinclairs and brown-haired women with sweet-faced little daughters.
Chapter 15
The trouble with wanting to stay away from Harry was that Fleur refused to. If they took their eyes off the child for a second, she ran to his room, which meant Maddie had to go there to collect her.
Seeing him was not getting any easier. He created a feeling inside her she’d never felt before, and she didn’t like it.
“Harry is in the small parlor resting today. It is sunny and will do him good to get out of bed,” Essie said. “If you are looking for Fleur, I’m sure she’s found him by now.”
“Yes, one of the maids just told me she had found her there when she’d taken him a tea tray. I don’t understand why she is always seeking his company.”
They were taking tea together. Maddie had come to like her sister-in-law very much. She was kind and gentle but could be fierce when required.
“She likes him, as do the others. Claire had a sore belly this morning, so I took her to him, and he settled her.”
“Why is he so good with children, Essie?”
“You know what we are, Maddie. Know how Wolf is with animals?”
“Surely not?”
“Harry is like that with children.”
“Good Lord.”
“It’s his most redeeming quality,” Essie drawled.
“Has he been very difficult?”
“Not extremely. He is just confused and wants to leave here.”
“Why?”
“Change is not easy for anyone, Maddie, and for a man who had no one in his life to suddenly have all of us and what we are is, I should imagine, terrifying. Plus, by being here and accepting us, he feels as if he is betraying his father.”
“Because his father was betrayed by the Sinclairs. Yes, James told me that.”
“He is scared and fighting hard not to show it, Maddie.” Essie held her daughter in her arms, patting her back while she slept.
“What do you fear, Maddie?”
“I fear nothing.”
“That’s not true. You are safe here with us. Surely you see that now?”
“I see it and have changed. Harry said as much.”
“Did he? Then perhaps you are only different with him? Tell me, Maddie, did James tell you about what lies between the Sinclairs and Ravens?”
“I know about them saving each other.”
“They also marry each other.” The words had been softly spoken, but had they been shouted, the impact would have been no less. “Surely you have realized that by now?”
She hadn’t, but now she thought about it, it was staring her in the face.
“Good Lord.”
“Sinclairs marry Ravens, usually after a Sinclair has saved a Raven.”
Maddie lowered her cup to the table, as her hand was shaking.
“Harry may be a Sinclair, Essie, an
d I have Raven blood, but we will never be anything to each other.”
“Why?”
“Because I was married to Jacques. I will never marry again.” And because I murdered a man.
“And you believe you will never care for another man?”
“Yes.” Her words were a hoarse whisper. “I will never marry again.” Maddie got to her feet. “I need to go now, Essie. I must get Fleur before she tires Harry out.”
“He is strong, and yes, his side is still a long way from healing, but he can handle having Fleur with him. The other children visit him also when they are here. He draws them to him, which is funny really, considering he is an unmarried man with none of his own.”
Hilarious.
“Yes, well, thank you for the tea.”
She didn’t run from the room, but it was a near thing. She did, however, run up the stairs with thoughts swirling around inside her head.
Sinclairs marry Ravens, usually after saving them. Harry had saved her twice. The legend would not be tying them together in a nice neat betrothal knot. Harry would return to France, and she would stay here.
That much, at least, she now knew. This was Fleur’s family. Leaving them would be a wrench. Plus, if anything should happen to her, her daughter would be loved.
Reaching the parlor Harry was in, she heard her daughter’s giggle. She would enter and take Fleur, then leave with only a few words spoken between them. As she had every day.
“Good day,” Maddie said as she stepped through the doorway.
Fleur was beside him on a sofa, giggling at the story Harry read her. The vision would have pleased any mother’s heart if the man was her husband. However, Harry was not.
“Come, Fleur, it is time to leave.” Her words sounded clipped and angry. Harry noticed, because his eyes locked on her.
“No, Mama.”
Her daughter was chewing a biscuit.
“I don’t like her to eat too many biscuits.” An outright lie, as Fleur had never had many treats, and she did not begrudge her them at all.
“Good afternoon, Maddie. Please join us for tea.”
“Tea, Mama. Harry is reading.”
“I have no time for tea.” She was a horrid woman to speak to her daughter that way. It was not the child’s fault the dark-haired man beside her looked like a rumpled god sitting there in a dressing gown made of green velvet the same color as his eyes. His hair was all over the place, and his jaw held stubble. He looked like a bloody fallen angel.
“Everyone has time for tea, surely?” He was teasing her.
Since that day she’d entered his room and he’d been curt with her, he’d changed. He was polite and kind when she retrieved her child. It put her off balance. She was even more so today, as apparently, Sinclairs married Ravens!
“Sit, Maddie. We have nearly finished the story.”
She had no reason not to sit, and it would be churlish if she refused. She sat in a chair across from Harry. Picking up a biscuit from the tray, Maddie nibbled so she didn’t have to speak if he asked her anything.
“The cat, who heard all this but pretended otherwise, said to him with a grave and serious air...”
His voice was lovely, deep, like smooth whisky. Not that she’d tasted smooth whiskey, but still, she thought it could be like that. Maddie sat there listening to the story, eating her biscuit. She became enthralled, as she’d never sat and listened to fairy tales before.
“This book is Mother Goose’s Fairy Tales,” Harry told her when he was finished. “We are reading Puss In Boots.”
“Thank you, she is enjoying them.”
“Come closer and look, the pictures are lovely.”
“I need to go.” Maddie stood now.
“Come and look, Mama.” Fleur waved her closer.
“Sit here, you will see better.”
Harry patted the empty space beside him. She didn’t want to. In fact, the thought of getting that close to this man made her go hot all over. His eyes laughed at her as if he knew what she was thinking.
She sat.
“We shall read the next story for your mother, Fleur.”
“Oh no—”
“Sit.” He pulled her back down as she tried to rise. “Once upon a time, there was a widow that had two daughters.”
She followed his finger as he read each word, her eyes looking at the letters. A few she recognized. When she had been a maid, another girl in the house could read and had taught her in the evenings, but Maddie had been forced to leave after only a few lessons.
“See that letter there, it is an A,” Harry said. he then continued on reading. He pointed out letters as he read, sounding them out, and Maddie would copy him in her head.
He read, and she watched and learned, and some of what Lucy had taught her in that kitchen many years ago came back.
“That is a B.” She pointed at one of the first letters she’d learned.
“It is.”
She sat and listened as he read page after page, and both she and Fleur were mesmerized. When he closed the book on the last page, she saw that her daughter had fallen asleep resting against Harry.
“You know quite a few letters and words, Maddie. Who taught you?”
He was so close to her now. She’d moved during the story telling, so the distance that she’d placed between them was no longer. Her thigh touched his. Their eyes were only inches apart.
“A friend.”
“Which friend?”
“Just a friend I once knew. She could read and write in English and taught me a small amount before we parted.
“She should move, pull her eyes from his, anything to break the contact.
“I like this dress also.” He touched the edge of her sleeve where it banded her upper arm.
“Thank you.”
Harry leaned closer, so close she saw his eyes change to a deeper green, and then he was kissing her. His lips were soft, achingly soft. Only their mouths touched, and yet she felt it through her entire body. Each brush of his lips made her body tighten. More.
Her hand touched him, and he grunted in pain.
“I’m sorry!” Maddie leaped to her feet. “I touched your injury.”
“It’s all right.”
“No, it’s not. None of this is all right. This… It can’t happen again.” She hurried to pick up her daughter.
“If I promise it won’t, will you let me teach you to read while I recover? After that, I will return to France.”
His words stopped her at the door.
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. This is for Fleur as much as it is for you. You saw how much she enjoyed the stories. Think of her.”
“Harry!” Dorrie burst into the room. “Your grandmother has arrived. I have come to warn you, she is not far behind me.”
“God have mercy on us all,” he muttered.
“Grandson!”
Maddie watched a short, round woman enter the room. She could find only one word for the colorful vision who had entered: Imposing.
“Hello, Grandmère.” Harry said. “You will forgive me for not rising, as I am still sore.”
Clutching Fleur, who had woken at the commotion, Maddie moved to where Dorrie stood watching the reunion.
“I could not come earlier, as I have been unwell.” The woman stomped closer to Harry with her cane.
Her clothes were orange. Not a soft shade, nor even a peach like Maddie’s dress; no, these colors were loud and almost hurt the eye. The dress was made up of many seams and layers, each a different shade of orange. Over the top she wore a shawl that was the most hideous color of all. It was pinned together with a large brooch in the shape of a bird.
“She looks like a many-layered exotic fruit,” Dorrie whispered.
“And I thought I had no idea about fashion,” Maddie said.
“How is it you were shot?” The words were fired at Harry.
“The usual way, Grandmère, with a gun.”
“Don’t be flippant
with me, grandson!”
“This is Miss Dorset Sinclair and Mrs. Madeline Caron, Grandmère. The sleeping child is Fleur Caron.”
It wasn’t easy to curtsey with a child in your arms, but Maddie stumbled through it.
“Ladies, my grandmother, Mrs. Heloise Paquet. Don’t be fooled by her demeanor; she is actually a nice person.”
Shock had Maddie’s eyes shooting to the woman who was seating herself beside her grandson. How would she take him speaking to her like that?
“’Tis true I can be, but only if I like you. Bring me some tea and biscuits, which I believe you English excel at, and we shall see how it goes from there.”
“I’ll go!” Dorrie ran from the room before Maddie could.
Drat.
“You come and sit with that babe. I wish to visit with the sweet child,” Heloise Paquet demanded.
Maddie hesitated.
“You won’t escape, so you may as well give in,” Harry said. “Take a seat, Maddie.”
“Down, Mama.” Unlike Maddie, who woke slowly, Fleur was always ready for action. Lowering her daughter to her feet, she took her hand and moved to a chair.
“You have cared for my grandson, Mrs. Caron?”
“I and others, Mrs. Paquet.”
“And he has behaved?”
“Oh, yes.” Maddie shot a look at Harry. He had a knowing smile on his face. He knew she was uncomfortable, and from more than just that kiss.
“As a child, he did not like being ill.”
“Grandmère.”
“Harry does not like to be dependent on anyone.” She ignored the warning in his voice. “He is strong, that one.” Heloise looked at her grandson, and while it was not exactly a tender moment, Maddie knew there was love between these two.
“Yes, thank you, I don’t think Maddie wishes to hear more, Grandmère.”
He appeared such a strong man. A man others respected, and yet he had a grandmother who could still embarrass him. Why did that make him more appealing?
“He needs a woman to set him to rights. A woman and a family. He needs a home.”
“Grandmère.” This time Harry’s words were a growl. His grandmother harrumphed but said nothing further.
“A home is not always just four walls, Mrs. Paquet.” The words were out before she could stop them.