Page 106 of The Duke's Wicked Widow
That’ll go well.
“Your turn, Ellie! This one’s from…from Fawkes!”
He blinked, bringing himself back to the present in time to see Ellie’s pleased flush as she took the small package from Merida’s hands. “Fawkes,” she murmured, “you have already given me plenty.”
Her wicked smile told himexactlywhat she was thinking of.
“This is nothing big.” In fact, it was embarrassingly little…but he suspected she’d appreciate it.
If Thorne were here, he would’ve made athat’s what she saidjoke, ye ken?
Fawkes felt his lips twitch as she examined the package.
Her enthusiasm was actually quite adorable when she delicately peeled back the paper, when it was clear she wanted to rip into it. When her fingers revealed the plain wooden box, she glanced at him in confusion.
“It latches on the side,” he explained.
Almost reverently, she opened the lid to see a dozen of his smallest dosage bottles, all stoppered neatly with red wax, nestled in specially designed nooks. Ellie picked one up and lifted it to the candlelight.
“It’s the tincture I made for ye.” Good Lord, washeblushing now? Because of a little reference to menstrual cramps? “Ye ken, to take away yer pain?”
Her expression turned from confusion to wonder. “You made me enough—one for each month?”
“Aye, the dosage is exact.” He coughed into his hand. “Dinnae throw away the bottles.”
“No, no, of course not.” She placed the one she held gently back into its place. “Fawkes, I know how expensive this glassware is. Next year, just give me the doses in one large bottle.”
Next year.
There wouldn’t be a next year, would there? Not for the two of them, not once she found out what he’d done.
But he’d given her a year without pain, and if that was all he could do for the rest of his life, he’d be glad to do that for her. He’d doanythingfor her.
It was the look of adoration in her eyes that nearly broke him. Christ, he wanted to stomp across the room and pull her into his arms and ask her to stay here at Hangcok Hill with him for the rest of their lives.
But he couldn’t.
Because of who he was and what he’d done.
“Merida, love,” Ellie prompted shyly. “Could you fetch the one wrapped in white paper?”
The little girl who’d been lying with her head on Tramp’s side leapt to her hands and knees and scrambled toward the tree. The dog went back to happily gnawing on the moose antler Clutterbuck the butler had acquired for a Christmas treat.
Fawkes had no idea where one found amooseantler, and decided it was best not to ask.
“Here it is!” the little girl cried triumphantly. “To…Fff-aaaawwww-ks. I could guess that was your name,” she explained as she skipped across the room, “but I wanted to show off my reading. It’s from Ellie, see? Eh-lllllll and then the IE together says the same sound as Y. Her real name’s Danielle, though, did you know?”
Chuckling at Merida’s enthusiasm—or sugar high—Fawkes pulled her into his lap, along with the gift. “And is this from ye as well, wee sprite?”
“Oh, no, I’msix. I don’t gotta give presents,youhave to give them tome.”
From her seat by the tree, Mother called, “And Father Christmas brought ye the fudge, remember!”
“I love fudge,” Merida sighed, slouching against Fawkes’s chest.
Smiling, he unwrapped the gift, revealing…a lumpy contraption made of yarn. “It’s a…a bonnie…purse?”
“It is a hat,” exclaimed Ellie, giggling. Her hand had risen in front of her lips again, the old habit hard to break in the few days he’s been encouraging her to show her real smile. “You needed a warmer winter hat when you play in the snow!”
