Page 33 of Enlightened
“The cane’s temporary,” he said. “I’m growing better every day. I’ll be returning to Edinburgh soon. To my practice—” He broke off, as thoughts of Murdo—of leaving him and Laverock behind—surfaced again, making the smile on his face wither.
Elizabeth said nothing, but she watched him, her gaze assessing.
After a brief silence, she said, “You’ve changed, David.”
That surprised him. “Whatever do you mean?”
She shook her head, not in negation but wonderingly. “You don’t seem all that pleased to be going back to work. And you’ve always been entirely absorbed by your work.”
Had he been?Entirelyabsorbed?
“Of course I’m pleased,” he retorted. “It’ll be good to get back to it. All I need is a few days on my feet in court, and I’ll be right as rain.” He attempted a grin, but while Euan smiled back, Elizabeth still looked troubled, and he knew he hadn’t convinced her.
Dinner was a pleasant, informal affair. They sat round a little kitchen table, the three of them talking easily as they ate. Elizabeth served up a tasty, if somewhat plain, stew of lamb and vegetables. It was a stretch to serve the three of them with it, but there was plenty of good bread and ale, and, afterward, the apple pie.
David was amused to see that Euan literally couldn’t keep his eyes off Elizabeth. His gaze kept straying to her, even when David was talking, his handsome features softening with affection when he looked upon her. When she made a joke, their eyes met, shining at their shared humour, and whenever she went to rise to do something, to clear their plates or fetch some salt, he would leap up first, insisting on fetching and carrying the smallest items for her.
When he rose from his chair yet again, this time to clear away the remains of apple pie, Elizabeth finally said, in a voice that was one part amused, one part irritated, “For goodness sake, I’m not going to break. I’m just going to have a baby!”
The next instant, she clapped her hands over her mouth, eyes gone wide.
There was a long beat of silence.
“So,” David said at last, tentatively breaking into the oppressive hush, “you’re expecting a child?”
Elizabeth didn’t say anything. She’d flushed a dull red and was staring at her hands, so it was left to Euan to answer him.
“Yes, we are,” he said, and there was a glint of defiance in his blue gaze that just dared David to disapprove, “and we couldn’t be happier about it. I might not be able to marry Lizzie before the law, but she’s the wife of my heart, and our child will be loved as no child has before.”
Elizabeth didn’t say anything, but when she glanced at Euan, her brown eyes shone with trust, and for a heartbeat David felt another touch of that wild, howling envy.
“I don’t doubt it for a moment,” he said. “No child could wish for better parents.”
He wanted to be happy for them, but his overwhelming feeling was one of dismay. The child would be presumed to be Kinnell’s under the law and would be at risk if Kinnell ever tracked them down, adding another complication to their already complicated lives.
Finally, Elizabeth spoke. “I was so worried about what my father would think about it,” she said sadly. “And now all I can think is that he’ll never know.”
Euan went to her, crouching beside her chair, touching her with gentle hands. Watching them, David considered how much disapproval their love—a runaway wife and her lover—would attract from the world. Not as much disapproval as he and Murdo would suffer were they ever found out, but more than ample. Realising that ignited something in David. Not envy this time, nor despair, but anger. Righteous anger, at a world that wouldn’t stop prying and interfering, demanding that its unjust rules be followed.
He realised that Elizabeth needed to hear the rest of what Chalmers had said to him. And so did Euan.
“Your father wouldn’t have minded,” he said.
Elizabeth looked up. “David, I know you’re trying to help, but—”
He interrupted her. “In fact, hedidn’tmind. He told me he suspected about you and Euan, and I can assure you, he wasn’t shocked by the idea, or shamed by it.”
He told them everything then—about Chalmers’s suspicions that Elizabeth was growing to love Euan, and about his hopes for Elizabeth’s happiness. About Mary Cunningham, the woman Chalmers had loved, and about Chalmers’s own personal regrets.
He told them that Chalmers had said that love should not be denied.
It was when he spoke those words that Elizabeth began to sob. Quietly at first, but soon she was crying hard, helpless to stop herself. She turned into Euan’s arms to hide her face while the grief that swamped her dragged tearing gasps from her chest.
“God, I’m so sorry,” David exclaimed, appalled. “I shouldn’t have spoken—”
She shook her head against Euan’s chest in denial but couldn’t seem to form words.
“Come on,” Euan murmured into her hair. “Let’s get you into bed. You’re exhausted.” He helped her up, one protective arm round her shoulders, and looked at David over her head. “Do you mind waiting here on your own for a little while?”