Page 53 of The Lone Wolf's Bride

Ilene beamed at him. ‘I promise I will put it to good use,’ she said running her fingers along its smoothness. ‘I will make the most beautiful dress you have ever seen.’

‘Any dress would look beautiful on you,’ he said solemnly. It was as if he saw her for the first time since they had come to Shillinglaw and she did not look away from his eyes, which she often did to avoid his anger.

‘What have I done to deserve such a kindness?’ she said softly.

‘Nothing in particular, I just wanted you to have something pretty.’

‘Oh Murray.’ Ilene’s voice broke to a sob and he watched her smile twist into tears.

‘What are you doing? Don’t cry. It’s supposed to make you happy.’

‘I know I am being foolish but I don’t deserve it,’ she said shaking her head.

‘Yes, you do. Ilene the other day, when I took you to bed, I am sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean it, any of it. I do care for you and I know that for you maybe that’s not enough but for now, well…it is all I can give. And for my cruelty and my past behaviour, I will try and make amends.’

He came towards her and took hold of her chin, brushing away her tears with the thumb of the other hand. A weak smile was the reward for his tenderness, drawing his eyes to her full, moist lips. He wanted to kiss her now, so much. He wanted to slide his mouth gently across hers, to taste her sweetness and sink into her warmth. But those dark soft eyes seemed fearful and confused and so he pulled back from the brink of his desire. The aching need in him, to possess, to dominate, meant he could not be gentle, and she seemed too vulnerable for him to be anything less than that. So instead, he kissed her quickly on her forehead.

‘I must go.’

‘No, don’t go Murray. I’m sorry.’

‘You have nothing to be sorry for.’

‘Stay then.’

‘If I stay I know what I will do, and I didn’t give you that gift so that you would let me use you like that again, Ilene.’ He gave her a weak smile and strode off.

Ilene was left to try to master her confusion at his behaviour, running her hand sadly over the silk, again and again, until her heart stopped thumping in her chest, and the flame of lust died down in her belly. His rejection, after making love to her, had cut her to the quick, but, in spite of it, whenever that man came anywhere near her, she felt a longing deep in her belly and a fire in her blood.

Murray did not come inside until it had been dark for hours. Slipping into bed, Murray pulled her close. Against her bottom, his manhood grew hard and ready, but he did not act on it. Instead, he nestled his head in the nape of her neck and slowly and peacefully, with a little bit of hope in her heart, Ilene slipped into a deep sleep.

Chapter Twenty-One

Murray woke to a cold dawn, alone in bed. Ilene must have gone to milk the cow. He got up and rubbed the condensation off the window to peer outside. There she was, coming out of the stable, clumsy, sloshing milk out of an overfull pail. There was a strange look on her face, then the pail fell from her fingers and hit the ground, milk spraying everywhere. She doubled over, one hand went to the stone wall, the other to her stomach.

‘No…please God, no,’ he gasped as he ran out to her.

When he got his arms around her she was moaning and looking at her feet where the milk had spilt. A few drops of red were spreading out into the white puddle. He gathered Ilene up into his arms and took her inside as she lost her baby, in a gush of blood and tears.

***

By dusk, it was all done with, the crying and the pain, the shock and the loss. Murray sat looking out to sea in a biting wind. It was as if the cold had burrowed inside him, for his heart felt as numb as his hands and his face.

Flora emerged from the house and approached, wiping her hands down the front of her apron. She regarded him coldly.

‘I have banked up the fire and she has eaten a little, but she is weak.’

‘Will she be well again?’

‘Aye in time, but her spirit is fading. I told her the child was gone and she was so calm and quiet. Strange it is, for I know she grieves its loss, yet she will not show it. I fear she is beyond any consolation I can offer. Maybe you should try and comfort her, show the poor lass some kindness if you have it in you.’

Her words were a slap in the face but Murray did not retaliate at her impudence. ‘If the danger is passed then I will stay by her. You may go back to your husband.’

He turned from Flora and took a deep breath, entering the house like a man condemned. When he approached the bed Ilene was sitting up, with a plaid around her shoulders, staring off into space.

‘What was it?’ she said in a quiet voice.

‘Ilene don’t.’

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