by Liz Harris
The door opened. She felt herself stiffen, and she made a conscious effort to relax.
Connor came into the room, closed the door behind him, hesitated and then walked over to her. Standing square in front of her, he looked down at her. ‘This be all right with you?’ he asked, his voice tinged with awkwardness.
She pulled her hair further across her cheek, glanced up at him, her hand against her hair, and tried to smile. ‘Of course. It’s part of our bargain, isn’t it? You’ve kept to your word, and I’ll keep to mine.’
He nodded, and went across to the table, pulling his braces down over his shoulders as he walked and tugging his shirt free from his jeans. She glanced at him just as he started to undo his shirt, and she caught sight of a lean, sun-browned chest. A lump came to her throat, and to her dismay, her eyes filled with tears. She put her hands to her eyes and tried to push them back.
He slipped off his shirt, dropped it on to the table and started to unbutton his denims. Then he looked across at her, and stopped. His hands fell to his sides and he took a step towards her.
‘What is it?’ he asked. ‘You’ve been married before so you know what to expect. I won’t hurt you. Is that why you’re afeared?’
She pulled her hair further across her cheek and turned away from him.
‘I’m being stupid,’ she said, her voice shaking. ‘Please, don’t pay any attention to me.’
He didn’t move, and she felt his eyes on the side of her head.
‘Is this too soon for you?’ he asked. ‘We’ve had a long day, and I can sleep in Bridget’s room tonight, if you wish.’
She shook her head. ‘No, I don’t wish. I want to begin our life as man and wife tonight. I’d like you to lie beside me. Please, Mr Maguire.’
He gestured helplessly. ‘Then why are you crying?’
‘I’m not really.’ She paused. ‘It’s just that I wish … I wish …’ She stopped.
He waited a moment, then sat on the bed next to her, leaving a small space between them. She turned her face further away from him.
‘What is it you wish? Tell me, will you?’
She took a deep breath, turned around and looked into his face, her hand holding her hair in place. ‘I wish I didn’t look as I do now. I know you wouldn’t have chosen me if you’d had the chance to see me before I got here, and I wish that my face was as before the accident. If it was, I think you would not feel such distaste for me. For this.’
He met her eyes.
‘No, I would not have chosen you, ma’am … Ellen … That’s true. But as you said yourself earlier this evening, I agreed to marry you after I’d seen you. I needn’t have. And I told you that I would like to have a son.’ He gave her a wry smile. ‘As far as I know, there’s only one way to bring this about. So my distaste, as you put it, cannot have been so very great. Wouldn’t you agree?’
She gave him a watery smile.
‘But before we go further, I think we must free your hands,’ he said. ‘If you are to live here as my wife, you must get used to me seeing your face.’ He leaned across, gently took her hand and moved it aside. Then he gathered up the hair that hung in front of her left cheek, held it to one side and stared at her scar.
She edged back from him.
He released the hair, and smiled at her. ‘There, now I’ve seen it so you’ve no need to hide yourself from me any more. One day I’ll ask you about the accident, and you’ll tell me about it if you want to, but not tonight. Tonight’s about sealing our bargain.’
He stood up, went across the room to the lamp and lowered the wick. The flame extinguished, when he turned back she was lying beneath the quilt, waiting for him.
His hand went to the buttons on his denims and he walked forward.
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