An Arrangement of Sorts (23 page)

“Women?” Moira asked, interrupting gently. “Plural?”

Nathan nodded, the motions jerky. “Anna decided she could not marry him after all. I’m not sure if it was our fight as Mother died, or if it was the pain of memory, but she broke things off and her family moved to Shropshire.”

“Poor Spencer,” she murmured softly.

“He left shortly after that, and I haven’t seen him since,” Nathan continued, as if she had not spoken. “We have not communicated at all. That is why I was so determined to act so foolishly that day in the army. I had thought only of what I wanted and not of what was needed. I had abandoned my responsibilities at home, and in doing so, I had turned my back on the duty owed to my family. My brother had lost everything dear to him because I was too careless to have a clear thought in my head. And now he hates me.”

“Oh, Nathan,” she said, reaching over to put a hand on his. “I’m sure he doesn’t hate you. He was angry and hurt, and probably hating himself more than you, but you were the most convenient outlet. You must not blame yourself anymore.”

He shook his head. “You didn’t see his face, Moira. There was hatred in his eyes.”

“Perhaps in that moment he thought he did, Nathan, I don’t know. All I know is that you need to fix that relationship.”

“How can I? It seems fairly impossible at the moment.”

“I can’t tell you how, Nathan,” she sighed, looking away and removing her hand. “I don’t even know. All I know is that I would give everything I have for one more day with my brother, even if we were to spend it fighting.”

He winced at her soft words. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“I am not the one you need to be apologizing to,” she said, giving him a very serious look.

“But I tried to!” he cried, throwing his hands up into the air. “He doesn’t want to be my brother! I have received no word from him, and no hint at any sort of reconciliation. It does not even matter that he was in the wrong, and
…
”

“Oh, Nathan, don’t you see?” she interrupted with a pitying smile. “It’s not about who was right or who was wrong. It’s about putting the past where it belongs, letting go of your pride and hurt and anger, and realizing that all that matters is each other. You would be surprised at what sort of miracles can take place when one only has the courage to take a first step in the right direction.”
    

They were forced to take shelter at an inn midway through the afternoon as a storm swept through the area. They barely made it in before the thunder and lightning began. Thankfully, there was a room for them, should they need to stay for the night, which it was beginning to look like they would. Not that Nathan was about to complain, he was not in any further hurry to get to Preston than they needed to be. Torturous as it was, he wanted to spend as much time with Moira as he possibly could, regardless of the setting or situation.

After they had eaten, and when it became apparent that they would not be able to go anywhere that night, they took refuge in the room that they had been given. Moira now sat by the window staring out at the rain as it lessened, and smiling at the dispersing clouds.

Nathan was sitting on the floor by the fire, content just to look at her, not really caring if she noticed. It was her turn for the stables tonight, and he knew she had no intention of giving that up, storm or no storm. He had learned that it was best not to fight her when she had made her mind up. But watching her now, seeing the simple pleasure she took in the aftermath of a storm and the appearance of the stars from behind the clouds, he could not let her leave. He could not be apart from her.

Not tonight.

Her future did not involve nor concern him, and could not, but he was just selfish enough to want to pretend that for one night, it could. He wanted to watch her wake up in the morning and see how long it really took her to fall asleep at night.

He didn’t want her to go.

She looked exhausted, but somehow still so beautiful. She had let her hair down hours ago, and he loved the way it flowed down her shoulders. He loved how it curled only at the very ends. He loved that she was sitting with her knees tucked into her chest with her skirt draped so modestly over them. He loved that she was barefoot, and that her boots had been the first thing to go.

It was amazing to him how easy it was to admit to himself that he loved her. He could not help loving her. It was the most natural thing in the world.

She made him want to be better; she challenged him, encouraged him, teased him, taught him in ways that he never dreamed anyone would or could.

He could not have expected any of this, not for a man of his nature and expectations. But he realized now that, secretly, he had been lonely for a long time. He was tired of the days and nights alone. He had spent a good portion of his adult life wondering about love, and now he had found it, but couldn’t have it. The irony made him ache in places he did not know existed.

He had shared more of himself with her than he had with anyone. She knew him better than any other person ever had. How could he give her up when all of this was over? For what had to be the thousandth time, he cursed her betrothed. And yet, had the man not been foolish enough to leave her, then their own paths would never have crossed. He would never have met her, never known the sweet fulfillment that she brought to his once lifeless heart.

He could not let her go.

Unless he knew she would be happy. Only then might it be possible for him to do so. Even then, it would hurt like hell, and he knew it.

But tonight, she was here. He would never ask her to betray her betrothed, but tonight he needed her near him.

“Stay with me tonight.”

She turned towards him with a jerk, her eyes wide, her cheeks flushing slightly. “What?”

“Just tonight. Don’t go out to the stables. Stay.”

Her expression was impossible to read, and his heart stopped. “Why?”

For a long moment, he debated his answer. The truth would not be wise nor fair, not when they were so close to her… their… journey’s end. But neither could he lie. He opted for a different truth.

“It’s late,” he said with a shrug. “The stable will be damp and chilled, the streets flooded. I cannot let you sleep out there like that. I can’t have you taking ill. The innkeeper and patrons all think we are married, so…” He could see her indecision, her wariness in her eyes, but he could also see a glimmer of something else he did not dare identify. “I won’t touch you,” he murmured. “That’s not what I mean. Just… please stay tonight. I… I need you to stay.”

She continued to watch him steadily for a long moment, then she nodded slowly and turned her gaze back to the sky, her face still flushed. His heart soared within him, and he closed his eyes and sighed softly. Tomorrow would come and they would be themselves again. But not tonight.

Nathan wondered if he would regret this
;
being so close and so far away at the same time, glimpsing heaven but never allowed to touch it. He didn’t care, he decided. He had tonight. He would not regret it.

He could not.
 

Nathan spread out his bedroll in front of the fire, still hardly able to believe that Moira had agreed to stay tonight. She was already situated in the bed, watching him work, looking rather content. She was supposed to be trying to sleep, but she wasn’t.

He smiled to himself as he worked quietly. “Aren’t you tired at all?” he said softly as he turned his head to look at her.

She shrugged lightly. “Of course, I am. But I told you that it takes me forever to fall asleep.”

“So you did,” he allowed as he laid himself down on the floor.

Moira blew out the candle, and the light in the room was restricted to the coals of the fire. Nathan put his hands behind his head and leaned back. As ridiculous as it sounded, though he was on the floor and she was high on the bed, he loved that he wouldn’t be apart from her tonight. He grinned to himself. He was becoming such a lovesick fool. His friends would have washed their hands of him, had they known.

“Nathan?”

He turned his head towards the sound of her voice. “What?” he asked softly.

“Why did you bring your mother's ring for me to use?”

“I wish I knew,” he said on a sigh. “I don’t keep it on me, or out on display, or anything sentimental like that. I was only thinking of how we could travel without trouble, and being married seemed to be the easiest, and the moment I thought of that, I thought of the ring.” He hesitated, and then ventured, “Does it bother you?”

“No, not at all,” she replied at once, though he was not entirely certain he believed her. “I was only curious.”

He considered that for a moment. “Well, I’m sorry I don’t have a better answer for you.”

She didn’t reply, and he wondered if she might actually try to sleep now. He knew it would be some time before sleep came to him, but he wouldn’t push conversation if she did not wish for it.

It was not a
s
though he didn’t have a great many things to think about, should he need to pass the time.

After a long while, he heard her moving about on the bed, and then heard a frustrated sigh. “Aren’t you asleep yet?” he asked, laughing a bit.

“I told you,” she hissed back, “it takes me a long time. And when I say a long time, I mean a long time.”

He chuckled and turned on his side though he still could not see her, and propped his elbow up, resting his head in his hand. “Shall I try to help you sleep?”

“Only if you don’t move from your current position,” she quipped sharply.

He choked back more laughter. “I promise I will stay right here. I could tell you some of the grand adventures of Nathan Hammond and his merry band of idiots.”

He could almost hear her smile “Now
that
sounds like a selection of stories to interest me.”

“There are some rather fine tales to be told. Let us begin with the story of how Duncan was once bested by a milk cow.”

And off he went, spinning all sorts of tales from his past, embellishing only slightly. It wasn’t long before Moira was snickering into her pillow, and Nathan had to put his fist to his mouth to keep from laughing out loud. He told as many stories as he could remember, about all of them. He even told her stories he had sworn on pain of death never to tell. By the time he had run out of stories, Moira was laughing so hard she couldn’t breathe, and he was not much better. They were continually hushing each other, and the need for silence only made the temptation to laugh that much greater. When they had eventually calmed, they had talked only a little longer about banal things, and it was not long before he could hear Moira’s breathing deepen and the rustling ceased.

Nathan rolled to his back and closed his eyes, sighing painfully.

What he would have given to have more nights just like this.
    

C
hapter
T
hirteen