A Highlander's Heart: A Sexy Regency Romance (Highland Knights Book 1) (12 page)

And if she was, how would she bear it? Last time it was all joy and anticipation. If it happened again…it would be the most frightening nine months of her life.

She released a shaky exhalation as he withdrew, then lay on his side, tucking her against him so she lay with her back to his front.

His hand wandered over her naked skin, then pressed on her stomach. Claire held her breath, willing him to move his hand away quickly. But he didn’t. He settled there, his hand heavy and confident on her skin.

It was where he’d held her at night during the months she’d carried Jamie, fascinated by the curvature as it seemed to grow a tiny bit bigger every day. They’d usually fallen asleep like this, on their sides, her bottom pressed against his pelvis. With his hand on her stomach, as if to say
there now, wee Jamie. Let your mama sleep.

It was too much. There was too much sadness, too many regrets. She took a shuddering breath, and the tears, the first ones in many months, crested over her lids and slid down the side of her face.

She tried to stop them. She tried to, at the very least, hide the fact that she was crying from her husband. But she couldn’t. It had been almost a year since she’d last cried, and now the tears had started, she couldn’t stop them. Ten months’ worth of pent-up grief was pouring out of her.

Even so, it was a while before Rob realized she was crying. Slowly, his arm, which had protectively been covering no baby Jamie, because baby Jamie was gone, drew away. And she knew what was coming next. His complete withdrawal.

“Claire?”

“Just go away,” she gasped out. Because this was how it would end. It was how it always ended.

“Did I hurt ye?”

“No!”

“Then what’s wrong?” He sounded utterly befuddled.

She hugged her knees to her chest. He wouldn’t understand. He’d never understood her grief over Jamie, and he still didn’t. How could she have overlooked how little he’d cared?

“Stop this blubberin’ now,” he said sternly.

She gasped, and squeezed her knees tighter into her chest, her shoulders heaving with quiet sobs.

“’Tisna helping,” he said roughly. “Calm down and tell me what you need.”

She didn’t calm down. She didn’t tell him what she needed. Truth was, she needed him to care. But if he didn’t care, then how could she make him? She couldn’t. It was hopeless.

“Claire, you need to stop this.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, the sobs coming harder than ever.

“Claire!” he snapped. Then made a disgusted Scottish noise when she didn’t move.

He sighed, and the bed moved as he stepped off it. “Fine. If that’s what ye want, I’ll go. I’m late, anyhow. You know we’ve the meeting with Sam Hawkins. The lads will be ready.”

That’s right, Rob. Go to your men. That’s what you always do, and this is no exception.

She would have said it all if she wasn’t crying so hard. But she couldn’t talk. She could hardly breathe.

Please stay, Rob. Please hold me. Please help me through this.

The door snicked quietly shut as he walked out.

Claire wept for a good hour. Then, when the men were gone and the house was quiet, she washed her face and called for Bess.

Though she must have seen Claire’s bloodshot eyes and pale skin, Bess didn’t comment. In her efficient way, she had Claire dressed and laced in a matter of minutes. Then she wrapped Claire’s hair into a twist and pinned it into place.

Claire rose stiffly and fetched the bonnet that matched her green carriage dress.

“I need you to accompany me on a walk, Bess. Will you?”

“Of course, milady.”

“I wanted to go to my father’s house,” she explained. “But I didn’t write him a note requesting him to send the carriage. It isn’t far.”

“It is no trouble, milady.”

She and Bess walked to Mayfair in silence. When they arrived, she said good-bye to Bess, reflecting that she’d probably never see the woman again.

Then she went in via the servants’ entrance. As she walked into the corridor, the first person she saw was Hugh, the butler. He nearly dropped the silver service he carried when he saw her.

“My lady! What are you—”

“Do you know where Grace is?”

“Of course. Lady Grace is in her bedchamber.”

“Thank you, Hugh.” Lifting her skirts, she hurried to the stairs and up them. She threw open the door to Grace’s room. Grace had been writing a letter, and she spun around, her hand clapping to her chest as the door banged back against the wall.

“Good Lord, Claire! What are you—”

“I have to go. Will you go with me?”

Grace’s brow furrowed. “Go? Where?”

“To Norsey House.”

Grace’s features went slack, and there was a long moment of quiet. Then she rose and went to close the door behind Claire. She took Claire’s hands in her own and chafed them. “Your hands are so cold. What happened, dear?”

Claire’s lower lip trembled. “I need to go see him.”

“We’ll have to—”

“I need to see him today.”

Grace hesitated, then nodded, her eyes going glassy. She put her arms around Claire and drew her tight against her, stroking her back soothingly. “Yes, yes, of course. We’ll go to him today. As soon as we can get the carriage ready.”

Claire sniffed and squeezed her sister hard. “Thank you. Thank you so much, Grace.”

Grace always understood.

* * *

Rob worried about Claire all day. He was so damned confused. How could things be so right, then, in a matter of seconds, go so horribly wrong?

Was it right for him to leave her in that state? She’d asked him to go. But she’d asked him to go in the past, and that hadn’t turned out well. Still, if he’d stayed, what could he have said to make things better?

He never felt so helpless, so ineffectual, as when his wife cried. He was a problem solver by nature, so his approach to tears was the same as his approach to any other problem. He discerned the way to solve the problem, then solved it.

But with Claire’s tears…nothing he’d done had ever solved the problem. His efforts only seemed to succeed in making it worse.

And he hated…
hated
seeing her hurting. He hated not knowing why she was hurting, but she wouldn’t tell him. Worst of all was the fact that he couldn’t fix it.

So when Sam Hawkins was talking to them about some of his previous missions for the Agency, Rob’s mind was mulling over whether walking away from Claire was a good idea or if it was the worst mistake of his life.

Perhaps he’d been right to accede to her wishes to leave her. It’d give her time to calm down. To start thinking rationally again. And when he returned home tonight, he could ask her what the problem had been, and then he’d be able to solve it.

This thought sustained him, but worry still wound him tight. What could it be? Everything had been going so well. What had he done to ruin it…yet again?

The day was a long one. Sam Hawkins taught the men ways of being discreet among members of their class. Among the comparatively emotionless Englishmen.

Emotions… When it came to him and his wife, they had such a different way of expressing them. Evidently, the rule of emotionless Englishmen did not extend to their women.

They arrived back at the town house in the early evening. Innes, Ross, Fraser, and McLeod asked for permission to try the new horses Adams had arranged for them to have. Stirling, who was tired after his long night last night, headed off to his room to sleep. Mackenzie said he wanted to write some letters.

Rob waved them all away and went on the hunt for his wife. It had worried him when he hadn’t seen her smiling face as soon as they’d opened the door. God. Maybe she was still up in the room weeping.

She wasn’t there. The bed was smartly made, and all was silent. He wandered the corridor, calling her name, and almost ran headfirst into the maid, Bess.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Sir Robert,” the woman said with a curtsey.

“Have you seen my wife?” he bit out.

Bess frowned. “Aye, sir. She went to Lord Norsey’s house.”

“Did she tell you when she’d be home?”

“No, sir. She didn’t.”

Rob spun around, then marched back to the bedchamber he shared with Claire. He sat on the edge of the bed, pushing his hand into his hair. What did this mean? What could he do?

He was at a loss. He had no idea if she was angry, if she was still sad, if she would be returning home, if he should go find her at her father’s house.

In short, he had no clue as to what was going on. And no idea how to fix it. He needed help.

He snapped up off the bed and walked down to the end of the corridor to Stirling’s room. He hesitated, but then decided a distraction might be good for his friend. He rapped sharply three times. “Sorry to bother ye, Stirling. But d’ye mind coming to the drawing room for a few minutes?”

“I’ll be there. Give me a moment,” came Stirling’s voice.

Rob strode three doors down and knocked on Mackenzie’s door. Mackenzie seemed to have made great strides with Claire’s sister. He might have some insight into these women’s perplexing minds. Rob made the same request of Mackenzie as he had of Stirling, then went downstairs to wait for them.

He was pacing the room when the two other men entered.

“What’s wrong, Major?” Stirling asked.

“Ye need to stop calling me major, Stirling. I’m no’ a major. Not anymore.”

Stirling shrugged, nonplussed. “Ye’ll always be a major to me. Anyhow, I’ll not be calling you
Sir Robert
just as ye’ll never be calling me
Sir Colin
.”

Rob plunked down on one of the armchairs. “You’re right. I dinna think it’ll ever be possible for me to think of ye as a Sir Colin.”

Stirling snorted. “I dinna think it’ll ever be familiar even for me.” He settled on the sofa across from Rob, and Mackenzie sat beside him. “Why’d you call us here…
Major
?”

Rob sighed. “It’s my wife.”

Both of the other men’s brows rose, and they glanced at each other in surprise.

“Where is Lady Campbell?” Mackenzie asked.

“She’s gone to her father’s.”

“To visit with Lady Grace?” Mackenzie asked.

“I dinna think so.”

“Then why?” Stirling asked.

“That is why I need your help, lads.” Rob threw up his hands in confusion. “I’ve no’ the slightest idea.”

He told them about this morning, saving the private details. He closed his eyes, remembering her soft skin against his fingertips. He said he’d awoken to discover she was already awake, and he’d put his arms around her.

“And then,” he said, “she started blubberin’.”

“She started weeping?” Mackenzie asked.

“Aye.”

“D’ye ken why?”

“I havena the faintest idea. I…I’m bewildered.” He shook his head in confusion.

“So what’d ye do?” Stirling leaned forward in interest.

“Well, I told her to stop.”

“Ye…told her to stop,” Stirling repeated slowly.

“Aye.” Rob frowned at Stirling.

“Then what?” Mackenzie asked.

“Well, I told her she must calm down because she couldna speak with me in that state. I told her she must stop, but she wouldna listen. She told me to go. So I left.”

“You left?” Stirling asked, aghast.

“Aye.” His frown turned into a scowl. Both Mackenzie and Stirling were looking at him as if they believed that decision had been very bad indeed. “You lads were waiting for me,” he said by way of explanation. “And she’d told me she wanted me to go away. So I did.”

Stirling groaned, and Mackenzie played with the edge of fabric on his sling.

“What’d I do wrong?” Rob asked, confused as ever.

“Ye canna approach everyone like you did me last night,” Stirling said. “I’m a soldier, and you’re my commanding officer. When you demand I stop doing something, I take that as an order, and I stop…if I can. Women are different. Ye canna bark commands at them.”

“Especially when they are overwrought,” Mackenzie added. After a short silence, he asked. “Do ye have any sisters, Major?”

“Only the one brother.”

“I’ve six sisters.”

Rob coughed. “I’m sorry, man,” he said in sympathy.

“Ye get used to them.”

“Or you commit the sin of suicide,” Stirling said cheerfully, “or murder.”

“And how many sisters do you have, Stirling?” Rob asked.

“I have two. But they’re twins. They’re two years older than me. And they took special pleasure in making my early years a living hell.”

Rob rubbed his temples. “I dinna ken what to do. You’re telling me I shouldn’t’ve left her this morning?”

“Rule one,” Stirling said, “never leave a woman weeping.”

Rob groaned. “Why not? I canna speak to her when she’s in that condition.”

“Oftentimes, you dinna need to speak,” Mackenzie said.

“Then what do ye do?”

“Pet her,” Mackenzie said. “Pat her back and her hair and the like.” He demonstrated, making little petting motions on the armrest of his chair.

“Well, she isna a sister,” Stirling said with a wry smile. “Ye can haul her into your arms and kiss her.
Then
pet her.”

“And wipe her tears away.”

“Make sure you do it gently,” Stirling admonished.

“I canna see how this solves the problem,” Rob argued.

“When a woman weeps, it’s because she’s been hurt somehow. It can be a hurt from the moment or a past hurt,” Mackenzie said. “There’s generally no telling which. There’s little logic to it. And sometimes there’s no way to solve the problem right that moment, like ye might want.”

“Did ye do anything to upset her this morning?” Stirling asked.

Rob shook his head, remembering how he’d made her come. Twice. How perfectly contented and relaxed she’d seemed until he’d dragged her bottom against him and held her. “Nay. Nothing.”

“A past hurt, then. Did she have anything that might be building within her?”

Rob pressed his lips together and shook his head. But of course, one thing came to mind right away.

They had studiously refrained from talking about Jamie. Things seemed to disintegrate whenever they did, and what had been growing between them was so fragile it could have been ruined with one angry word.