Page 68 of The Duke's Wicked Widow
“No, he did notliterallytoss us out. That would have been difficult for the footmen, I imagine. He didfigurativelytoss us out, I suppose you might say.”
Fawkes tightened his hold on her hands and lowered his chin, trying to capture her attention as he frowned.Damnation, woman, ye ken what I mean.“Ellie, did he, or did he no’, force ye to remove yerselves from Cumnock House, yer home for the last year, and the only home Merida has ever kenned?”
She winced. “It was not a verynicehome, all things considered. Everyone there treated her horribly—”
“Ellie,” he growled.
“Yes,” she sighed. “Yes, the Earl made it very clear we are no longer welcome at Cumnock House. He told me to return home.”
Home.
Suddenly, something more than anger was pounding on Fawkes’s chest.Fear. “And? Will ye go back to yer father’s house?”
Her tongue darted out across her lower lip. “I…do not know. My uncle has returned from abroad and taken the title of Earl of Bonkinbone. I do not particularly want to live with him.”
Blackrose was back.
Of course, Fawkes knew that; he’d received a letter from the man, for fook’s sake! But for Ellie to know this, had he contacted her? Did she know what kind of evil the man was capable of?
“Good,” he blurted, and when she glanced up at him, shrugged awkwardly. “I mean, ye dinnae have to live with him if ye dinnae want to. Yer sister—”
“—is alarmingly close to giving birth. The midwife has given her husband strict instructions to keep her away from all excitement and stress, or the baby will arrive too early. I would not be the cause of that stress.”
Which is why she’d conceived the wholegetting pregnant and claiming the bairn was her husband’s heirthing.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
Sorry I couldnae give ye what ye needed. What ye wanted.
Ellie tipped her head back to meet his gaze. In the shadows of that ridiculous bonnet, her eyes were darker than usual. They seemed sunken, her skin waxy. Had worrying about this made her ill?
“I—” she began, but the words cut off when she swayed forward.
Fawkes dropped her hands and reached for her shoulders. “Ellie?”
Suddenly, Merida was there beside him, Tramp struggling for freedom from her grip. “Ellie is sick. Her stomach hurt a lot this morning and she was crying. I wanted her to get up and come play outside with me, but then the Earl got really mad and made us leave. Did I tell you my tooth was loose?”
In his hold, Ellie had gone so limp, he was almost holding her upright. Her arms were held tightly against her sides and she was breathing shallowly.
“Och,” he murmured, understanding. “Ye’re no’ ill, ye’re—”
Busy being no’ pregnant.
Her eyes flashed open, darting to Merida, and Fawkes quickly amended his words. “—definitely ill, aye.” He pulled Ellie against him, wrapping one arm snugly around her. “My mother used to get ill like this each month. Ye cannae travel across London, much less up to Scotland, in this condition.”
“But,” she gasped, “we have—”
“It’s snowing hard outside,” he interrupted, offering Merida a smile. “Why no’ stay here with me tonight? Tramp would enjoy the company.”
As the girl began to bounce around the room, swinging the dog as if it was a bairn, already taking Ellie’s approval for granted, Ellie shook her head.
“Fawkes, I cannot ask you to do that.” She struggled to push herself to her feet. “This is your home—”
“And I’m used to having ye invade it.” Grinning ruefully at her gasp of outrage—or perhaps pain—he swept one arm behind her knees and lifted her. She must have been weak indeed, because she barely protested. “Besides, I’m the reason ye’re soill, aye?” he asked as he marched toward his bedroom.
If I’d succeeded in getting ye pregnant, lass, ye wouldnae be dealing with these hellacious cramps.
She murmured something and pressed her cheek against his chest. It sounded like another apology, which did nothing to chip away at the block of guilt resting in his stomach.
