Page 53 of My Highland Rogue
“Two months now.” She looked toward Sean’s door and then leaned closer to Gordon. “Poor man, he’s been so ill. I don’t think it will be long now.”
“No,” he softly said. “I think you’re right.” He took the cup from her. “Why don’t you go and get some air. I’ll take this to him.”
“Are you sure? He’s been in and out for a while now. Sometimes, he doesn’t know who people are.”
“I’m sure. I’ll go and sit with him.”
“Well...” She looked toward the window and the encroaching sunlight like freedom beckoned.
“Go,” he said.
She left the cottage with an eagerness he completely understood. If he could be quit of thisplace, he would, but responsibility held him here. Or perhaps it was honor. Or maybe the love a young boy had once felt for his father.
Sean was lying straight in his bed, the covers folded and tucked neatly beneath his arms. His pose and pallor were reminiscent of a man being laid out for his funeral.
Since he’d returned, he and Sean hadn’t talked about Betty. Sean hadn’t said anything about him missing her funeral. It was as if Betty had simply vanished from not only their daily lives, but their history together.
Sean looked to have fallen into an uneasy doze. Gordon was content to sit there for as long as necessary. If Sean was asleep, then at least he’d been given a respite from pain.
He and Jennifer were going to be married. He was filled with plans. He wanted to show her everything he’d built and introduce her to everyone who’d helped make his music halls a success—Maggie, the other people who filled his daily life. He hoped she liked his house, but if she didn’t, he’d buy another. Jennifer would never lack for anything. Nor would she ever regret marrying him.
He couldn’t give her a title, but he could give her a home the equal of Adaire Hall. He’d build a house for her on the land he’d purchased in Scotland. She could tell the architect to design it however she wished. Whatever Jennifer wanted, he was going to ensure she received.
His life would finally be exactly how he wanted it, shared with the woman of his dreams. He and Jennifer would never be apart. He couldn’t waitto spend his life with her, to ask her advice, or to listen to what she thought of people they met.
Sean moaned, the sound bringing him back to the present. Gordon reached over and covered his father’s hand. Sean’s eyes fluttered open, blinked up at the ceiling, then slowly he turned his head. His eyes were dull and there was no recognition there.
“It’s Gordon, Da.”
Sean’s eyes closed again.
“I have a cuppa here, with some whiskey. If you like, I can help you sit up so that you can drink it.”
Sean didn’t acknowledge his words. Nor did he speak.
Gordon continued to sit there, watching his father.
He’d never sat a deathbed vigil, but he knew that this was what it was. Now was not the time for recriminations or even questions. Instead, silence was the best recourse.
He wished that it was easier for Sean, that the end could have been swift and merciful. Instead, it was evident that Sean was in agony.
Even though he wished it, he couldn’t magically erase Sean’s pain. All he could do was be the best son he could be. Perhaps Sean didn’t deserve it, but that wasn’t a judgment he needed to make. All he had to do was to be here, at this moment, and ensure that Sean had everything he needed.
A few minutes later his father opened his eyes again. He blinked up at the ceiling before looking around the room. Finally, his gaze settled on Gordon.
“Boy.”
Gordon could ruin a man by calling in his debts. A number of the peerage owed their current prosperous trappings to loans he’d given them. He employed over three hundred people in various positions. Yet Sean still called himboy.
Somehow, he managed to smile back at his father.
“How are you feeling?”
Instead of answering him, Sean made a sound in the back of his throat before saying, “You should have stayed gone.”
Once Sean’s words would have affected him. Yet he’d had years to acquire a thick skin as well as an understanding of human nature. Sean knew he was dying. His anger would have been directed to anyone in this situation. Gordon was only a convenient whipping boy.
“If you hadn’t come back, everything would’ve been fine. There would be no need for it all to come out.”
