An Arrangement of Sorts (21 page)

“Hardly! I only gave you the title for the sake of argument. I never thought you would be flattered by it!”

They bantered for much of the remainder of the day, and by the time they had decided they should stop for the night, even after making considerably less progress than they had hoped for, they were in high spirits.

Moira had no sooner stepped into the taproom of the inn that night than she was mobbed by the innkeeper’s wife and two daughters, both of whom appeared too young to be present in such a place.

“Oh, my dear, you must be so weary! Are you staying the night? Do say that you are, we shall look after you considerably well. I shall draw you a hot bath and Molly here will see to it that your dress is washed and pressed for you, while Sally will bring you up a hearty dinner!” She finally took a breath as she waved to the rather crowded taproom full of men.

Moira looked back at Nathan, who was smiling to himself. “Darling?” she queried with an insistent tilt of her head.

“Do not fret, Jane,” he said coming over and patting her on the back, then smiling at the other women. “I should like for you to get some proper rest tonight, and these fine women seem to be more than able to help you with that. Not to worry, dear, I will take care of everything.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, but she could not help but to be amused. “If you are sure, Michael. I would hate to inconvenience you.”

He shook his head and smiled in what would appear a loving manner. “Not at all, my dear. I will be up much later, long after you have gone to bed.”

She nodded, sighing in resignation. “Very well. Ladies, I would be pleased if you would direct me to an available room and that hot bath you were speaking of.”

All three women squealed in delight at the prospect of having a real lady in their inn, and herded Moira up the stairs.

She threw a panicked look at him, but he just smiled and waved her on. She heard his laughter as they left and swore to make him pay for it.

Up in the room, Moira was dreading what the bath would be like. She was already being fussed over, and they were only at the dinner stage. They had stripped her of her gown and put her in a fresh one of theirs, which fit surprisingly well, and were now trying to get her to eat something that smelled so terrible that she just knew that if one spoonful touched her lips, she would be ill.

“No, please, Mrs. Clarke, I cannot,” she begged, holding up a hand.

“Oh, but you must, child,” the round woman scolded, holding the bowl out to her. “It is just the thing to cure the weary state of your body from a long day of traveling.”

Moira doubted that very much indeed. “Please, I am sure it is wonderful, but I just
…
”

“Oh, do eat up, my lady,” Molly said with a pleading look in her eyes.

She could not eat it. She would not. But how to make them leave her be about it? Frantically her mind raced and she seized upon the first thing that came into her mind.

“I am with child,” she blurted out, covering her stomach.

The women in the room froze, mouths gaping. In the next instant, the bowl clattered to the ground and she was swarmed by them, hugging and squeezing and screams of joy.

“Darling girl! Is this your first?”

At her nod, Mrs. Clarke screamed again. “Oh, dear child, I was so dreadfully sick with my first. Sally, take this away and bring her something else that will not make her ill!”

“Yes, Mama,” the girl said as she rushed out with the food she had just brought in.

“Your husband must be so pleased!” Molly squealed, taking a hand.

“Or does he even know yet!” Mrs. Clarke said with a gasp. “You look so thin, you cannot be very far along.”

“He
…
” Moira began.

“He doesn’t know, does he?” Molly interrupted with yet another squeal.

“Well
…
”

“Oh, you must tell him, indeed you must,” Mrs. Clarke insisted, pulling Moira from the chair.

Moira’s heart stopped in her chest. “Now?” she managed to squeak out.

“Yes, yes, now,” Molly insisted as she dragged Moira to the door. “Mama is quite right, there is no time like the present.”

She could not even manage to say another word as the two women spoke over each other about how delighted he would be and how delighted they were, and things only got worse when Sally rejoined them and offered her own opinions and prostrations on the subject. A horrible feeling of dread welled up inside of Moira as she saw the number of people in the taproom. Not only would she be unable to pretend she had told Nathan, but now she would not even be able to tell him in privacy. They were going to make a grand spectacle of this and Nathan had no idea it was even coming.

Please let him act happy
, she wished with all of her might. She could only imagine the horror that the Clarke women would express were his reaction anything less than jubilant. She shuddered at the thought.
 

Nathan looked up in surprise
as
the boisterous Mrs. Clarke and her daughters dragged Moira into the center of the busy taproom.

“Quiet, please! Everybody, quiet! I beg your pardon for interrupting your evening, gentlemen,” Mrs. Clarke said with a wave of her hand.

Nathan eyed Moira carefully, noting that, although she appeared calm on the outside, her eyes were panicked, her fingers were clenching each other, and her teeth were clamped on her lips so hard they were white.

“Our dear Jane here has something she needs to tell her husband, and we want you all to be witnesses!” Mrs. Clarke continued joyfully.

Nathan read the apology that flashed across Moira’s eyes, and tried to ask what for with his own, but before he could, all of the men behind him shoved him forward so that he was only a few feet from Moira. “Uh
…
” he stammered, rubbing a hand on his trousers, “what is it, Jane?”

The entire room went deathly silent, as if what was about to be said were of grave importance.

“D-darling,” Moira said in a trembling voice that sounded so unlike hers it worried him.

“Well, go on and tell him, dear!” Mrs. Clarke urged, grinning.

Moira took a deep breath and steeled herself. “I am with child.”

The collective gasp that went up from the room would have been comical had Nathan not felt as though something large and heavy had been swung into his chest. The first thought that entered his mind was a blatant denial, knowing it was impossible. The following thought reminded him of their act, and he knew he somehow had to respond quickly.

“Are you certain?” he asked quietly, his voice hoarse as he stalled for time, the anticipation surrounding them almost tangible.

For a moment, she looked ready to deny it, but at his almost imperceptible nod, she nodded once, and then again.

He knew what he had to do. What any sensible husband would do with such news.

But he was no husband.

And yet…

He took a deep breath, and stepped towards her until there were only a few inches in between them. He put both of his hands on her shoulders, and drew her in for a kiss.

The moment his lips touched hers, he was lost. Though the room had erupted with cheers, he did not hear them. Her lips were yielding and molded to his far too easily. He could not breathe, could not feel anything but the sensation of his mouth on hers. Somehow, one of his hands made its way from her shoulder to her cheek, and he touched it gently, caressing it with his fingertips. He let go of his hesitation and gave himself up to it, unable and unwilling to resist her.

After what felt like an eternity, and yet was entirely too short, he pulled back, staring at her as he struggled to breathe or to think. Her eyes were wide and luminous, and she looked just as tossed about as he felt. For a moment, all they could do was stare at each other. Then Moira smiled.

At that smile, he knew.

He was in love with her.

He always had been.

Then he heard the roar of the crowd around them, and was jolted back into reality.

“Smile,” Moira hissed through her teeth, her smile turning fixed. “You are supposed to be happy.”

He shook himself and grinned broadly at the gathering, most of whom clapped him on the back and shouted their congratulations.

“I’ll be taking the missus back up to bed now, sir, if you don’t mind,” Mrs. Clarke said as she took Moira’s shoulders.

He nodded, unable to say anything. He met Moira’s eyes once more, and at her own nod, he released the breath he forgot he was holding.

His newfound friends brought him more celebratory drinks, and for quite some time, they carried on in that manner.

It was not until much later, long after Mr. Clarke had gone to bed, and once the taproom was empty and he was alone, that Nathan was able to think clearly as he sat before the fire, staring absently into it.

He loved her. He loved Moira. Why deny it any longer? It was far too late for that. Fighting it would be futile. That kiss had told him everything he needed to know. He knew he would never forget that moment, mind racing, breath pounding, heart soaring.

And he would never, as long as he lived, forget the feel of her lips on his.

His thoughts returned to her smile… That soft, secretive, almost wondering smile she had smiled as they caught their breath. Had that been for him? Or had it been nothing more than an act, a show she had put on for their utterly rapt audience?

He didn’t know, and he couldn’t ask. But he would keep that smile locked away in his mind when all of this was over. It would haunt him forever.

The reminder of what he had lost.

C
hapter
T
welve

T
hey made their escape from the “helpful” intentions of the Clarkes as early as they possibly could the next morning. The night had been extraordinarily painful for Moira, first with having to announce her supposed pregnancy to a room full of strangers and pretending that Nathan was the father, and then having to sustain herself purely on a lukewarm soup, and
then
enduring the attentions of the women during the bath they insisted on helping her with. At least they had been as good as their word concerning her dress, which was now as clean as it had ever been.

The only part of the night she did not regret with her whole soul was the kiss that she and Nathan had shared in that busy, crowded taproom.