hadn’t been for Devon. So she answered, “David Draycutt.”
He repeated the name softly before saying, “I do not know him. Is he in London?”
“No.”
“Do you—” He paused, then continued, “Do you love him?”
Love.
What a fool she’d been to let this man slip away. “I pretended I did.”
“Where is he now?”
There was an edge to his voice. One she’d not heard before. One she didn’t trust. “I want my baby.”
“And you shall have him, when my question is answered.”
His eyes reflected the flames of the fire. It gave him a dangerous air. She decided not to test him.
“He’s dead,” she said, her voice faint.
Silence.
“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you, Leah?”
His question caught her by surprise.
“Devon, if he was alive, I’d kill him myself.”
Her words surprised a sharp bark of laughter out of Devon, his teeth flashing white. “Well said, Leah.”
“May I have my baby?”
“Here he is.” But he made no move to offer him.
Heat rose in her cheeks. Devon was daring her to come close. Could it be that he knew how awkward she felt?
Her hastily made braid was coming undone. She flipped it over her shoulder and then wished she hadn’t.
Her breasts tingled with a need to nurse. They overfilled the bodice of her chemise and dress she should have taken the time to lace.
But it was too late for that. All she had left was her pride, and her pride wouldn’t let her hesitate in front of him. Conscious of his every breath, she stepped forward. She turned her head as she reached for her son so that she wouldn’t be looking directly into Devon’s face and those all too knowing eyes. To her relief, he easily relinquished the baby.
Leah raised her sleeping baby up to her lips, overwhelmed by the perfect grace of her child. His skin was velvety soft. It smelled of newness and endless possibilities. His weight felt good to her. Here was something solid. Something, someone she could love.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
She turned and would have escaped to the bedroom, except his arm blocked her way. He pulled her down to sit in his lap. She attempted to jump up, but his arm stiffened, holding her prisoner. She glanced at Old Edith. If she cried out, she could wake the midwife.
And then what?
She knew Devon wouldn’t hurt her. Ever. And she was all too aware of his superior height and strength.
“How did Draycutt die?” he asked.
“Devon—”
“Tell me, Leah.”
“Why are you doing this?”
For a second, he frowned, as if he didn’t have an easy answer. At last he said, “I must know.”
Leah lightly ran the pad of her thumb back and forth against her baby’s cheek. “What you really want to know is why I chose him?”
“God, yes!” The words almost exploded out of him.
Leah shot a warning glance in Old Edith’s direction, but Devon didn’t seem to care. For her part, the midwife slept on, oblivious to the differences of the two people only feet away from her.
He did, however, lower his voice. “Why him? Why would you run away with him but not me?”
“I didn’t run away with him. I left on my own.”
“But you said he was dead. I thought that was why—?” He broke off, puzzled.
Leah pressed her lips together. The story was inside her, one she hadn’t told to anyone before. One that still filled her with pain.
“What happened, Leah? Tell me,” he asked softly.
If he had demanded or threatened, she would not have spoken. But this was Devon, the man who had saved her son. She owed him this.
“Do you remember the day on the wharves? When you told me you loved me?”
“Yes,” he replied warily.
“I heard what you said, but I didn’t believe.” She shifted the baby in her arms to a more comfortable position. “Later, I couldn’t run away with you, not after you shot my brother.”
“I had no choice.”
“You promised, Devon. You told me that no harm would come to him.”
“And I tried to keep my promise.”
“Julian said
He repeated the name softly before saying, “I do not know him. Is he in London?”
“No.”
“Do you—” He paused, then continued, “Do you love him?”
Love.
What a fool she’d been to let this man slip away. “I pretended I did.”
“Where is he now?”
There was an edge to his voice. One she’d not heard before. One she didn’t trust. “I want my baby.”
“And you shall have him, when my question is answered.”
His eyes reflected the flames of the fire. It gave him a dangerous air. She decided not to test him.
“He’s dead,” she said, her voice faint.
Silence.
“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you, Leah?”
His question caught her by surprise.
“Devon, if he was alive, I’d kill him myself.”
Her words surprised a sharp bark of laughter out of Devon, his teeth flashing white. “Well said, Leah.”
“May I have my baby?”
“Here he is.” But he made no move to offer him.
Heat rose in her cheeks. Devon was daring her to come close. Could it be that he knew how awkward she felt?
Her hastily made braid was coming undone. She flipped it over her shoulder and then wished she hadn’t.
Her breasts tingled with a need to nurse. They overfilled the bodice of her chemise and dress she should have taken the time to lace.
But it was too late for that. All she had left was her pride, and her pride wouldn’t let her hesitate in front of him. Conscious of his every breath, she stepped forward. She turned her head as she reached for her son so that she wouldn’t be looking directly into Devon’s face and those all too knowing eyes. To her relief, he easily relinquished the baby.
Leah raised her sleeping baby up to her lips, overwhelmed by the perfect grace of her child. His skin was velvety soft. It smelled of newness and endless possibilities. His weight felt good to her. Here was something solid. Something, someone she could love.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
She turned and would have escaped to the bedroom, except his arm blocked her way. He pulled her down to sit in his lap. She attempted to jump up, but his arm stiffened, holding her prisoner. She glanced at Old Edith. If she cried out, she could wake the midwife.
And then what?
She knew Devon wouldn’t hurt her. Ever. And she was all too aware of his superior height and strength.
“How did Draycutt die?” he asked.
“Devon—”
“Tell me, Leah.”
“Why are you doing this?”
For a second, he frowned, as if he didn’t have an easy answer. At last he said, “I must know.”
Leah lightly ran the pad of her thumb back and forth against her baby’s cheek. “What you really want to know is why I chose him?”
“God, yes!” The words almost exploded out of him.
Leah shot a warning glance in Old Edith’s direction, but Devon didn’t seem to care. For her part, the midwife slept on, oblivious to the differences of the two people only feet away from her.
He did, however, lower his voice. “Why him? Why would you run away with him but not me?”
“I didn’t run away with him. I left on my own.”
“But you said he was dead. I thought that was why—?” He broke off, puzzled.
Leah pressed her lips together. The story was inside her, one she hadn’t told to anyone before. One that still filled her with pain.
“What happened, Leah? Tell me,” he asked softly.
If he had demanded or threatened, she would not have spoken. But this was Devon, the man who had saved her son. She owed him this.
“Do you remember the day on the wharves? When you told me you loved me?”
“Yes,” he replied warily.
“I heard what you said, but I didn’t believe.” She shifted the baby in her arms to a more comfortable position. “Later, I couldn’t run away with you, not after you shot my brother.”
“I had no choice.”
“You promised, Devon. You told me that no harm would come to him.”
“And I tried to keep my promise.”
“Julian said
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