Dare he? Would it be easier for Amelia if he went back to London and told everyone she’d passed away? He could mourn her for a year and then start his life fresh.
On his own.
Alone.
With none of the people who made his life worth living. For so long war and the fight both inside him and for his reputation had ruled his every move. Now what did he have? The House of Lords? His clubs?
That was no way to live. He would not treat his sister as the rest of London would. He would tell everyone the child was his baby to a mistress. Amelia could settle in the country with the babe and no one would ever have to know.
He climbed to his feet and slowly approached. It was an effort but the ends of his lips lifted into a forced smile as he stepped over the threshold.
Amelia sat up in the huge bed, small, pale, tired. And Patrick? Patrick sat next to her with the bawling bundle cradled in two hands, staring down at the baby as though she was the greatest miracle he’d ever seen. Confusion set in.
Daniella stood by Patrick and smiled with undisguised happiness, moisture glistening on her eyelashes much like the last time he’d left her. Only this time, she was truly smiling. She was truly happy. Was it the baby or was it the ship?
James cleared his throat and they all looked up at once. They turned possessive, wary and—yes—afraid, respectively. Guilt greater than any before swamped him. Forget the Butcher’s deeds. He’d ruined Amelia’s life by being absent and unapproachable and he’d ruined Daniella’s by thinking he knew better than her. By thinking he could control everyone and everything. All he’d wanted was his family’s happiness.
“You came,” Amelia said with astonishment. Not happy astonishment though.
“I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner,” he joked, trying his hardest to defuse some of the tension in the room.
“I…” his sister started but then her gaze dropped.
“You don’t have to tell me now, Amelia. Explanations can wait. Are you all right?”
“I think so,” she said with a nod.
Daniella stepped forwards, her gaze serious, all traces of her previous smile gone. “We should probably discuss some of the turns of events of the day.”
“What is Patrick doing here?”
“Patrick is exactly where he should be, with his child,” Daniella said.
James was even more confused than he had been before. It made his head ache. Again. “What?”
“That night on the beach, when you caught me sneaking about? Patrick told me why he was really with you. It was the night I discovered what your stolen items really were. Or rather, who.”
“He told you?” James switched his attention back to Patrick, who had yet to say a word.
He finally spoke. “I did tell her. After I tried to kidnap her away from you.”
“I beg your pardon?” Fingers of dread squeezed at his nape.
“Patrick had the same plan as you: roughly the same motivation as well as it turns out.”
His pulse raced and the room swayed ever so slightly. He should have known there was more to the Highlander’s sketchy story. Why had Daniella so completely blinded him? How had she so completely blinded him?
“Perhaps we should start at the beginning?” Amelia offered.
But James suddenly found he just didn’t care enough. Not now. Not yet. He wanted to take Daniella away from there and say what he’d come to say. Amelia was safe. Patrick was at her side, where he assumed the young man had been at some other stage in the last nine months. He’d seen his sister as a girl, fragile and innocent, for so many years, but there she was, pale with exertions only a woman could survive. She and Patrick could look after their own. Right now, he needed to concentrate on his wife—make amends for all the ways he’d fucked everything up.
He moved closer to Daniella and whispered in her ear, “Perhaps we should leave these two to their moment?”
“You aren’t angry?” she asked.
He was furious. Beyond furious, but it wasn’t at the top of his list of current anxieties.
*
Emerging above decks into the sunshine, Daniella almost fell under the weight of it all. She was exhausted. Her chest was so tight she could hardly breathe. But she had to make him listen. “I’ll sign your papers. I’ll absolve you from the marriage and you can go back to London with a clear conscience. You can find a proper wife and start over.”
She watched the ocean to avoid his eyes. On a day where her thoughts and emotions were in absolute turmoil, the sea was calm and soothing—just as it had always been. This was why she could never leave the water. It was her home.
James took her by the shoulder and turned her, crowding her against what was left of the railing at the backs of her legs. His eyes were fierce, his grip bruising. “I won’t have it. I’ll not let you ignore what is between us.”
“You were the one who wanted an end to it. You were the one who talked incessantly of pure wives and blue-blooded babies!” The rage she’d thought spent burst back to life. She shoved him in the chest so hard he staggered. “You can’t have it every way, James. You can’t have everything you want!”
“Yes I can,” he objected. “We can make this work, but you are so scared you won’t even give it a chance.”
“Scared?” she scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m not scared of you.”
“I don’t want you to be scared of me, damn it. I want you to see me. See that I love you and know that I will fight for you. What do I have to do to convince you I can make you happy?”
“You don’t love me. You do this out of honour and call it love so you can sleep at night.”
The bluster left him then and his shoulders dropped. “Why are you fighting me, Daniella? You already know
