Page 67 of The Duke's Wicked Widow
Her hand clutched Merida’s.
Both of them were bundled up against the cold, with snow on their shoulders and bonnets.
“Hello, Mr. MacMillan,” the little girl chirped, grinning up at him. “Did you know my tooth was loose?”
He gaped.
“Nay,” he finally answered truthfully. “Is that why ye came to visit me?”
“We’re here because Ellie needed to tell you something, but her tummy hurts, so she’s not—”
“I am fine.” Ellie’s words sounded weak, gasping…but she pushed herself upright and lifted her chin. Her gaze was locked firmly on his chest when she repeated, “I am fine.”
She didn’tlookfine. Shelookedas if she was about to fall over.
“Come inside,” he offered, before he realized he was going to say it. “Ha’ some tea.”
Ellie was shaking her head, yet followed him through the door. “We—we cannot stay. I just needed…” She swayed, then exhaled. “I needed to talk to you.”
As they stepped inside, Tramp leapt to his feet with a happy bark, which caused Fawkes to wince and Merida to gasp happily. “The puppy! Ellie was right, youdidkeep him!”
Fawkes, eyeing the girl’s stepmother with increasing alarm, hummed. “His name is Tramp, and I ken he’d love to play with ye. Ellie, will ye…?”
He wasn’t certain how to finish that question, his fingers hovering over the sleeve of her frock coat. But she stumbled toward the table, reaching for one of the chair-backs, leaning on it.
Christ, what’s wrong with her?
Had he hurt her last night? She’d come on his cock, clinging to him, joy written across her expression. She’d touched him after, as if he wasspecial. And he had hurt her?
As the sounds of Merida happily playing with the pup faded to the background, Fawkes stepped closer.
“Ellie,” he began quietly, touching her shoulder lightly. “Let me make ye tea. The water is still hot. Warm ye up a bit.”
“No, I—” Her breath caught on a sob, and Fawkes was already reaching for her—not that he had any idea what to do with her—when she turned to him, tears on her cheeks. Her eyes were red, as if she’d been crying for some time.
“I am sorry, Fawkes,” she cried softly, reaching for his hands. Her gloved hands were freezing. “I amsosorry! You were right—Iwasbeing selfish and self-centered and I amsosorry I did not take your feelings into consideration!”
He was pastworriedand all up inalarmedterritory now. “Shh, Ellie,” he soothed, focusing on pulling her frozen gloves from her hands. “It’ll be aright. I’m sorry too. I shouldnae have yelled at ye the way I did, frightening ye.”
“No, no, you wereright! That is what I am trying to tell you.” Her voice cracked again, even as he took her bare hands between his and began to rub them. “I should have never used you the way I did, and I am sorry. I hope one day you can forgive me for attempting to create a child with you.”
“Och, love, it isnae that.” Fawkes’s grin was wry. “Any man would be honored toattempt a childwith ye, Ellie. Ye’re beautiful and sweet and caring. But abastardwas something I couldnae countenance.”
“I know that now.” When she inhaled her breath stuttered, her eyes dropping to their linked hands. “I am sorry, Fawkes. And you do not have to worry about that now. I am not pregnant.”
He stared at her nose—the only thing visible of her face—for a good half minute before he realized what she meant. He sucked in a sudden breath.
Her courses had started. She wasn’t pregnant, and that must mean…
“I’m sorry, lass,” he managed, voice rough. “Yer in-laws…?”
“Jasper is the new viscount,” she whispered, gaze still locked on where her hands disappeared between his. “The Earl is having our things packed.”
Glancing over his shoulder at the laughing girl playing with his pup, Fawkes felt a stab of anger behind his left eyeball. “That arsehole,” he hissed. “He literally tossed ye out, in this weather?”
Ellie glanced up. “Well…no.”
“Nay?” He blinked, confused.
