Page 21 of The Duchess’s Absolutely Delightful Dream (The Notorious Briarwoods #14)

“I t must hurt, even now. The loss of him.”

Ellie stilled on her wide, soft bed and wordlessly entwined her fingers with Octavian’s. She needed a moment to think of a reply to this observation which was gentle and made with the utmost tenderness.

She loved these moments alone with him, away from the eyes of others.

Yes, somehow over the last two weeks, these moments of quiet in the middle of the night, when the entire castle had gone to sleep, had become treasured. They spoke of everything. Poetry, plays, history, philosophy.

They spoke of ideas and the noble need to bring peace to a war-torn Europe.

Still, he never spoke of his time on the battlefield.

Nor had she spoken of her marriage.

So she had not expected this comment.

For some reason, she had not expected him to bring up her life with Hamish. Octavian seemed so determined to just live in this tiny little window of life here in Scotland, where he did not really think about the past, nor did he think about the future.

It was like a perfect window into a world that he could have to himself, and she wanted him to have it.

If he was going to go off to war and fight battles and perhaps never come back, she wanted him to have peace to cling to, joy to remember, and her own deep and ever-growing affection to hold close to his heart, even if he could not return it.

Even if she feared that, secretly, he did not want her love.

She knew that he thought that he could not have it. She knew that he thought his heart was hard and had to remain so.

Men were such silly creatures.

They thought they held vast, noble secrets inside them that ladies could never comprehend. She could not agree.

Perhaps it was because she had been raised so much with boys that she understood them so well. She’d thought of this considerably since her conversation with Lady Drexel that day.

Men were actually quite simple creatures. Octavian felt he had to keep her out so that he could be strong, and so she had to teach him that one could be vulnerable and strong too.

“Oh, I miss him every day,” she said honestly.

“You see, we toddled about together when we were small. I can still remember his mother singing to me, putting me to sleep in the afternoon some days. And on others, my mother would sing to him. We discovered the world together, Hamish and I. And I think we thought that we would go through our entire lives together. We would be old together, and we would watch our children together.”

“But you two never…” he said softly.

She sighed, missing Hamish, but finding it rather challenging to explain how she had loved her husband but had not been in love with him.

“We married each other because it’s what our families wanted, and we understood the unification of power to protect the people of the Highlands.

You don’t know what it was like before,” she said, her throat tightening as she recalled her grandfather’s grim face as he had whispered the tales of the great Highland Clearances after the last terrible rebellion.

“You see,” she began, “so many people were driven off the land by landlords who cared more about English power, money, and the privilege that the south could give them than actually looking after their own people. It was a miserable, miserable time. I’m grateful that I did not have to see it, but the stories have been passed down through my family and through Hamish’s.

It is like a bitter vine that can’t be pulled out.

Its roots just keep growing and growing, no matter how we try to stop them.

So our families wanted to make certain that the people on our land could end that pain and stay somehow. ”

He studied her with patience, truly listening.

She felt her skin prickle with horror as she remembered the stories of famine and homelessness that had besieged so many Scots.

“People still left. The glen I showed you is an example of that, but we’ve done better than most. We’ve given work to so many of the people on our land and on Hamish’s. Sometimes I miss his castle.”

She smiled tentatively. “I miss it there. It is pressed right up to the sea, perching on a cliff, like an old giant, defiant against all odds. It’s wild and dashing, and one feels as if they’re in the middle of some great novel or a Shakespeare play.”

“And him?” Octavian prompted gently.

Tears filled her eyes. “I miss him, yes, often.”

“You can talk to me about him if you want.”

She smiled through those tears, grateful that Octavian was more than just a handsome face and strong body. He was a strong man in spirit too. “Thank you. That’s kind.”

“I think that people often don’t like to talk about such things,” he said gently, “and I would hate to think that you couldn’t share with me.”

She arched her brow, tempted to point out that he didn’t exactly feel as if he could open up and share with her, but that wasn’t entirely true. She had a suspicion that he’d actually shared more with her than with most people. She wished that he would share more.

Once again, perhaps she had to teach him how.

“He was my very best friend,” she rushed.

“We could finish each other’s thoughts, and we would run through the glens together, causing trouble wherever we went!

We had quite the cheeky reputation as a pair.

He dipped my hair in ink, if you must know, and I did as many terrible tricks to him as I could think of.

We were like brother and sister. He was the best, most wonderful, most kind boy.

And when he got sick, it was like having a whole part of myself removed. ”

Her chest felt heavy, for she hadn’t spoken as much about Hamish as perhaps she should have.

It was hard. But that was all right. She could survive hard words and hard tasks.

She’d already survived much. “For a long time, I didn’t think I’d ever recover, you see.

Because without him in my life, it was like learning to walk again, to breathe again, to eat and think again. We had thought as one for so long.”

“And yet you are not afraid of risking that kind of connection again,” he said softly, as he carefully wiped away her tears. “But different… Not just friends…”

She grinned at him. “You mean falling in love?”

He nodded softly.

“I’m not afraid of it at all.”

“How is that possible?” he demanded, astonished. “How can you not feel fear deep in your gut?”

She shrugged. “I must fall in love again.”

“Why?” he gasped.

She blinked and tilted her head to the side. “Because I promised Hamish.”

“You did what?” he all but yelped.

“I promised Hamish that I would fall in love and live life fully and with joy, and I’m going to do that, you see. With you, I’ve been having an absolutely wonderful time, so I’m fulfilling my part of the bargain that I made with him when he was dying.”

Octavian blinked. “I’m part of a bargain?”

“A splendid bargain,” she pointed out. “A bargain full of bliss and goodwill…and perhaps a little bit of l—”

“Don’t,” he cut in.

She swallowed back the word “love.” Blowing out a breath, she closed her eyes.

“Forgive me,” he rushed.

She tsked. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m not going to fling myself dramatically at you and profess love like some character from one of the dramas that are becoming so sentimental and popular.”

“You’ve seen those?” he asked with surprise.

She rolled her eyes, trying to find firmer ground. She had so very nearly said she’d loved him. And it had terrified him. “I do go to Edinburgh and see plays.”

He smiled. “You must come to England. My grandmama would be thrilled to show you around London and take you to all the plays.”

“Perhaps I will,” she declared, stretching out along his side. “I think my brother would like it, and I certainly like your cousins.”

She didn’t add, And I want to see you too . She didn’t want to risk driving him away before they had to part.

“Go on then,” he urged. “Tell me more about him.”

As he pulled her closer, he asked, “It doesn’t feel strange telling me about him?”

“No. He would’ve approved,” she pointed out, easing back into his embrace. “I think he even would’ve liked you, Englishman that you are.”

He laughed softly. “I’m glad.”

“When he was dying, I knew that he didn’t want to go, but he was ready,” she marveled. It truly had been amazing the way Hamish had met his death. “He was the best, most gentle, most wonderful man I’d ever known. And I almost think…”

“Yes?” he prompted carefully.

She worried the inside of her cheek, then threw all caution to the wind and said, “I almost think that he had done here what he’d come to do, and he was so good and so lovely that the heavens wanted him back. That there was nothing left for him to learn here.”

“Oh, dear,” Octavian groaned. “That must mean that I have a great deal to learn,” he teased softly.

She punched him lightly on the shoulder. “Don’t make fun.”

“I’m not,” he said swiftly before saying with all seriousness, “I think you’re right.

There are special people like that. They die far too young and one can only wonder why, because they’re so unique, so special, and yet they are taken.

I’ve been lucky. I haven’t had anything like that happen to my family, but I’ve known men and boys in the Army who’ve been stolen too soon.

So I can only imagine what you feel.” He paused, then managed, “But I am well aware that I have many lessons to learn.”

“Why do you make it so hard to learn them then?” she teased, hardly believing she could dare to be so naughty with him, but feeling she had to say it.

“My God,” he said, tickling her ribs, “you’re relentless.”

“Och, I must be,” she said, trying to stifle her laughs. “And I must be ridiculous to you because I’ve fallen for an Englishman.”

“Don’t say that,” he rumbled, slowing his touch until he cupped her hips and held her close.

“Why not?” she said, eyeing his mouth, thinking of all that he could do with it. A magic of its own.

“Because that wasn’t what this was for,” he returned, stroking his hand along her body. “This wasn’t—”

“You came to this place to enjoy yourself. Are you not enjoying yourself?” she queried without recrimination.

He groaned as he swept his hand over her breast. “Yes, but—”

“Are you afraid of feeling guilty?” she suddenly asked, pushing herself up into a seated position on the bed.

A note of protest escaped his lips before they pressed into a tight line.

“You are,” she breathed, not caring that the blankets left her sitting nude before him. “You’re afraid of feeling guilty about this, as if you misused me somehow?”

She drew herself up and declared, “Well, I release you from that now, Octavian. You are not allowed to feel guilty. You are not allowed to feel shame about this. You are not allowed to feel regret. So when you leave this place, which you will do in order to go and stop Napoleon, you will not look back and feel any touch of sorrow. Do you understand me?”

He stared at her as if she had turned into a lioness on the bed. He gazed at her with awe.

“Promise me,” she insisted. “You will not feel anything but luck when you think back to me and this castle by the loch and what we have shared here.”

He was silent for a moment.

She leaned forward and placed her hand over his heart. “Promise.”

He licked his lips. “I don’t know if I can promise that.”

“Then you shouldn’t leave,” she said simply.

He shook his head. “That seems like such a childish view.”

“Why?” she demanded. “Are you doing something now that you think you’ll regret?”

“Perhaps.” His voice was barely audible and, for a moment, he looked haunted.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, unwilling to let him choose guilt. “You’re taking my heart, and you refuse to give me yours in return, is that it?”

He was silent.

“I don’t need it in return.” She thought of part of her vow to Hamish and shoved aside the part about finding a passionate love. “That’s not what Hamish asked me to do. Not really. He asked me to embrace life and not retreat from it after his death.”

Though it was not easy, she couldn’t turn away from the other part of the vow she’d made Hamish.

“And if you are not the grand passion of my life, so be it. I will have learned something from you, or maybe, maybe,” she continued with a hoarse voice, “I’m supposed to learn how to let you go now that I’ve had you. ”

“Life seems to be asking you to let go of many things,” he said, “and it doesn’t seem fair.”

She arched her brow. “You, the Honorable Octavian Newfield, man of the Army, speak of fair? How astonishing.”

He let out a low growl. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“Why not?” she asked. “Life should be full of laughing.”

“Yes,” he returned, “it should.”

But there was sorrow to him then, and she feared that he was slipping away from laughter, and she wished… Oh, hell’s bells, she wished she could drag him back to it.