'None. It truly is my problem. I have…difficulties that prevent me from marrying.'
'Tell meone reason you don't want to marry.'
'That will merely invite more of your questions. As I said before, you doona seem to be happy unless everything's laid bare.'
'Hugh, this involves me, and I deserve to know more. I'm just asking you to be fair.'
'Aye, I know. Believe me, I ken that. But you need to get inside and dry off.'
'I'm not leaving until you tell me one reason.'
Finally, after a long hesitation, he bit out, 'I canna…give you bairns.'
Chapter Thirty-eight
'Oh,' Jane said, letting out a breath she hadn't known she held. 'Why not?'
'Just never have.'
He was right. Now she wanted to ask a slew of questions. 'I suppose you purposely tried,' she said, struggling to disguise the hurt she felt. The thought of him wanting a child with another woman scalded her inside.
'Christ, no, I have no' tried.'
She frowned. 'Then how can you know?'
'My brothers canna either.'
Her eyes widened a touch. A childhood illness. It would have to be. Her eyes widened even more—was this why he'd never wanted to marry at all? Never wanted to marryher ?
It would explain everything! She swayed, and Hugh's grip on her hip tightened. Hugh wouldn't want to deny her children. He was always selfless like that. This made sense—this was the reason she'd wracked her mind for! She wasn't daunted by this in the least. If she had her Scot, she could go without children. After all, her cousins would continue to spawn at an accelerating rate, inundating Jane with children to play with.
If her heart had turned like a cart's wheel at the sight of her wedding ring, then this latest revelation made her feel like someone had lit the cart on fire and sent it careening down a mountain.
Her first impulse was to tackle him to the ground and kiss him, but she stifled that impulse, realizing almost immediately that it had been a Bad Idea. Surely he would be vulnerable after his admission, and she didn't want to appear pleased over what he considered a loss. Her second impulse was to scoff at what he erroneously thought was a major obstacle, but to scoff would mean she didn't respect his beliefs on the subject.
Men really cared about these things, didn't they? Did he feel he was less of a man because of it? She took a steadying breath.Be rational .
'I see. I appreciate your taking me into your confidence.' She sounded calm, reasonable.
He nodded gravely. 'I've never told anyone before. But now you understand why I would no' want to marry.'
'I understand.'
He nodded grimly.
'But it doesn't change my mind about us whatsoever.'
'What?' he bit out, releasing her to take a step back.
'I don't know how to convince you that this wouldn't have a huge impact on my life.'
'You told me you love children. Even gave me reasons.'
'I loveother people's children,' Jane said with a wry grin. When he scowled, she grew serious. 'If you think I've ached in my breast wanting my own, it just isn't true. I love the ones you saw me with because they are my family.' She glanced away. 'I hope you don't think I'm an unfeeling woman because I haven't experienced that need. That's somethingI haven't told anyone.'
'Did you never think to have them?'
'If I got married and it happened—or didn't happen—I wouldn't have cried either way.'
'This is no' how I expected you to react to this,' he said, running his hand over the back of his neck.
'I'm sorry to disappoint you. But this changes nothing for me.'
'Damn it, the only reason you want this is because you have to fight for it. And once the fight is over, the desire will be, too.'
'That isnot true.'
'In the past, you've fought for things you dinna necessarily want—you did it only because you needed the challenge. Admit it!'
Well, maybe once or twice…But when she was younger she'd also believed she was all but married to Hugh —no challenge there, and yet she could think of little else but him.
'And what happens if I give in and your interest fades?' Hugh demanded. 'When you get back to England among your friends and family and parties, your desire to stay with me will wane. This is obvious to me, Jane.'
'It hasn't faded yet,' she muttered.
He gave a humorless laugh. 'Oh, aye, for the entire few weeks we've been together?'
She shook her head—now, where's that cliff?'I meant for the ten years we've been apart—or you can just round it up to half of my life.'
He visibly swallowed. 'Are you saying…? You doona mean…' His voice broke low. 'Me, Jane?'
Jane sighed. 'Yes, you—'
He tensed just as she thought she heard horses down the wooded drive. In one movement, he turned, shoving her behind him, and ripped off his shirt to cover her.
After Hugh's trail vanished in Scotland, Grey's options hadn't been promising.
This was Hugh's country, and the wilds were his element—never Grey's.
Worse, Hugh would bloodyknow he was good enough to lose Grey. That galled him.
If Grey hadn't been dallying with Ethan, he wouldn't have missed Hugh and Jane's nighttime departure. He found it ironic that by taking the time to kill one brother, he let another one escape.
Though he knew the countries of western Europe and northern Africa like the back of his hand, he'd never worked in Scotland. He was fluent in four languages, but Gaelic was not among them. The farther north he traveled, the more closemouthed and hostile the people were toward Englishmen—even more so toward Grey, who was emaciated and appeared ill. And possibly mad.
He had thought about returning to London to torture Weyland, but he knew the old man wouldn't talk—and Weyland probably didn't know for certain where they were anyway.
Just as Grey had begun to wonder if he could ever find them, he'd remembered that it was standard procedure in the Network to stay as close to telegraph lines as possible—and that only the most vital information, coded, of course, was dispatched.
Hugh would stay within a day's ride of a telegraph office, checking in periodically for word of Grey's capture or death, so he'd know when to return home. Even though Grey knew all the codes and possessed the keys, no message would be sent without his own defeat. Which was a conundrum. How could Grey get Weyland to telegraph?
Then he'd realized he didn't have to be defeated before a message was sent.
Word of Ethan's death would be considered critical.
Grey had suspected an urgent telegraph to Hugh about his brother would be sent to several stations throughout Scotland. In the end, Grey uncovered—through varying degrees of violence—that only four went out, and two of the receiving offices were located in this small area in the south central Highlands. Grey had combed every inch within a one-hundred-mile-radius of the first station and had almost completed the radius of the second. Hugh had to be around here somewhere.
Unfortunately, the people here were cold, as usual, and money had no effect on them.
He'd just decided to throttle someone for the information when he heard the nicker of a horse behind him. Glancing back, he spied, far up the road, a girl emerging from a path in the woods—one that he hadn't seen as he'd passed.
