Page 28 of A Second Chance for Carys
“James Mortimer.”
Carys’ heart skipped a beat. She was used to her daughter’s abrupt changes of topic during conversations but this time she couldn’t help but feel Eirwen had guessed her mother’s unusualattitude was linked to the handsome steward. Did Eirwen suspect what had come to pass between them? The fiery kiss, the scandalous encounter on the beach?
Lord, it did not bear thinking about.
“What about him?” she asked as calmly as she could.
“I like him. He’s a good man. Yesterday, I stroked his dog. He smiled at me.”
Smiled? Well. Carys’ lips quivered. A rare favor, indeed.
Pensively, she chewed on her mouthful of bread. She already knew Branwen liked the man who had given Matthew the love he’d needed as a child. It pleased her to hear now that Eirwen liked James as well. It would make it easier when…Her brain ground to a halt. When what? He had made it quite clear he was not looking for anything. Or rather, that he was scared of being with someone because of his fears of fathering children, which was even worse.
It was not that he didn’t want her, it was that he thought he couldn’t be with anyone.
Before anything could happen, she had to put his mind at rest, tell him he had nothing to fear with her, because there was no chance she would ever fall with child, even if they slept together. She couldn’t allow any misunderstanding to linger between them. Too much was at stake, they deserved to know where they stood before deciding anything. Say what he might, James wanted her. The way he had interrupted Richard the day before had to be a sign that he was not completely indifferent to her. Perhaps with the proper reassurance he might accept to give them a chance.
“Yes,” she murmured to Eirwen, handing her a chunk of bread. “James Mortimer is a good man.”
James could not believe what he was about to do.
He was about to tell Carys he wanted her to offer him a second chance if she’d have him. In other words, he was about to do what Richard had done the day before. Except, he would do it better. He would give her a kiss worthy of the name, leave her breathless, and make damn sure she did not refuse him.
But refuse him what, exactly? He did not feel ready to ask her for anything permanent, much less propose marriage. All he knew was that he sensed she had a role to play in his life, and he in hers. He felt in his bones he would regret it for the rest of his miserable life if he didn’t at least try to behave as a normal man, a man who was not crippled by fear, would do.
He would not be a selfish coward anymore, could not afford to be, because the risk was too great. If he didn’t find the strength to open up, he would lose her. Andthatwas what frightened him most of all.
Axe in hand, he made his way back to the castle. Despite his intention to put his frustration to good use, he hadn’t been able to prune a single tree. He felt as if he wouldn’t be able to do anything, or think rationally, until he’d spoken to Carys and made sure she knew what was in his heart, doubts and all.
Once he’d replaced the tool back in the barbican, he headed toward the hall.
The door swung open before he could reach it and he found himself face to face with a woman—only, it was not the one he wanted to see.
Margaret?
His shock would not have been greater if he had seen the King of England standing in front of him. She was alone, andlooking at him as if there was nothing more normal than for her to be at Sheridan Manor. Which was not his opinion at all.
“What are you doing here?”
“James, good morning to you, too,” she said, making a point of remonstrating with him for his lack of manners.
“Good morning.” Damn it all, he had no time for this! He needed to see Carys without delay. “What are you doing here? Did you travel on your own?” It would have been awfully risky for a woman to come from so far without a proper escort. What could have possessed her to even attempt it?
“No. I took the opportunity of following a family traveling north. They dropped me off in town earlier this morning.” She shifted on her feet. “I’m here because there is a matter we need to discuss.”
She looked so grave his heartbeat instantly picked up. “Is it Henry?” Had her only remaining son died in turn? Dear God, no. Was it a family curse? Was everyone he was related to, in some way or another, destined to die before their time? Margaret must have seen the panic flaring in his eyes because she instantly reassured him.
“No, Henry is well.” She paused, and averted her eyes. “But what I have to say does concern a child of mine.”
He arched a brow. As far as he knew, she only had one son left. That was the whole reason he had gone to her last summer, because she had lost almost everyone. So what the devil did she mean, another child of hers? He couldn’t think. Unless…His eyes flicked to her stomach. Was she saying what he thought she was saying? Was she with child? Had she come to announce she had found herself another husband? Well, good luck to her, but he could not find it in himself to care one way or the other. He’d thought never to see her again, and it had suited him fine.
“Which child of yours?” he asked nonetheless.
There was another pause. Then she lifted her head and said the most shocking thing she could have said.
“Yours.”
Chapter Eight
