and I’d be shouting at him for tracking mud over the kitchen f-floor yet again, and we’d have our l-little b-boy. He’d be nearly two by now.’
Colm held her tightly and let her weep. He waited, patting her awkwardly now and then on the back as great, jagged sobs escaped from her, and he felt his own throat tighten.
‘I ken, lassie,’ he muttered into her woollen cap. ‘I ken more than you know.’
She lifted her blotchy, tear-swollen face to stare at him. ‘Do you? How can you possibly understand?’ Scorn laced her words. ‘You’ve never had a child. You’re not even married.’
‘I was married, once. When I was younger.’
Surprise stilled her tears, and Helen let out her breath with a hitch. ‘You were? Really?’ She wiped her nose with the back of a gloved hand. ‘What happened ‒ did your wife fail to measure up to your high standards? Did she talk too much? Or did she use all of the hot water?’
‘She died.’ His words were abrupt. ‘Her name was Alanna. She died giving birth to our son.’
Helen blinked, shocked. ‘She? Oh, Colm...my God -‒I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t know.’
He shrugged and let her go, and his face closed. ‘How could you possibly know, when I never told you?’
‘So you have a son. What’s his name?’ she ventured after an awkward silence.
‘He didn’t make it. The midwife discovered the babe was in breech, with the umbilical cord wrapped around its neck. The doctors did everything they could, but I lost Alanna. And I lost my son. The two people I loved most in this world,’ he snapped his fingers ‘gone, like that.’
Helen opened her mouth to offer him words of comfort, words of apology and understanding; but before she could find the words to speak, Colm turned on one booted heel and made his way through the snow and back to the cottage.
Helen stared after Colm in consternation, then struck out after him. It wasn’t easy going, with two foot of snow on the ground and more coming down. But it was bloody cold, and she’d no intention of standing here and freezing to death on the grounds of Draemar castle.
‘Colm!’ she called out a moment later, out of breath as she struggled through the snow. ‘Wait, damn you.’
He stopped and turned around, scowling. ‘Why in hell did you ever leave the castle? You should’ve stayed there. You’ll never get back up the hill now. You’ll lose your way in this whiteout, and they won’t find your body until spring.’
‘Then I suppose you’ll have to force yourself to be hospitable,’ she snapped, ‘if you can manage it, and invite me inside until the snow lets up, won’t you?’
He didn’t answer, but turned away, still scowling, and made his way to the front door of the cottage. He disappeared inside, leaving the door open, and didn’t look back to see if she followed.
Helen, half-frozen and teeth chattering, was nearly to the door when he reappeared.
‘Taking your time, aren’t you?’ he accused. ‘I just threw some logs on the fire, so if you’ll kindly stop dallying and get inside, I can close the bloody door.’
She bit back a sharp retort – she really couldn’t speak, at any rate, her teeth were chattering too badly – and brushed past him into the cottage. True to his word, a fire burned in the fireplace and threw out a heavenly wall of heat. Helen pulled off her gloves. As she reached up and struggled to unbutton her jacket, her frozen fingers made her efforts clumsy.
‘Here, let me,’ he grumbled, and pushed her hands out of the way. ‘You’re useless.’ Swiftly, he unbuttoned her jacket and turned her around to tug it off, then removed her cap and tossed in atop her coat on a chair by the fire.
‘Th-thanks,’ she managed to say, clutching her elbows and hugging herself in an attempt to get warm. ‘I’m sure you’re quite g-good at removing women’s clothes.’
‘Expert,’ he agreed dourly. ‘I’ve so very much opportunity, living out here in the middle of nowhere.’ He eyed her. ‘Your clothes are damp, it’s no wonder you’re shivering. Take ’em off.’
‘No! I’m most certainly not taking my clothes off!’ Helen sputtered.
‘Suit yourself.’ He shrugged and turned away. ‘Then I’ll just go and run a hot bath for myself, instead.’
He was halfway to the stairs when she gritted her (chattering) teeth and grimly began undoing the top buttons of her blouse. ‘Hold up. I’ll have that bath, if you don’t mind. If you’re going so far as to allow me to use your precious hot water, you can be sure I’m taking advantage of it.’
Colm raised a brow. ‘At last, you’re showing a wee bit of common sense.’ He started up the stairs and called back over his shoulder, ‘There’s a terrycloth robe hanging on the back of the door. I’ll put your things in the dryer while you’re taking your bath.’
‘Thanks.’ Helen hovered uncertainly at the foot of the stairs, listening to the sound of the water running from the taps into the tub. ‘This is the second time you’ve saved me from freezing to death, you know,’ she called up.
‘Aye,’ he said as he reappeared at the top of the stairs. ‘You’re a daft Sassenach, and no mistake.’
Helen bristled. ‘Let’s get you in London, and see how you manage there.’
‘You’ll not find me in London,’ he shot back, ‘because I like it here at Draemar, and I’ve no intention of leaving. Now,’ he commanded as he came down the steps and brushed past her, ‘go up afore the water overflows the tub and ruins the flooring. Throw your clothes outside the door when you’re ready.’
The thought of being naked, with Colm standing just on the other side of the bathroom door, fully clothed, made her blush. ‘All right,’ she mumbled, and made her way up the stairs. ‘But no peeking,’ she warned.
‘I’ll try and contain myself,’ he retorted, and followed her.
She turned away and bit back a smile. It was rather a funny situation, in an awkward sort of way.
She closed the door on him and began, with trembling fingers, to remove her clothes. Blouse, jeans, boots, bra, knickers – she took them off and threw the lot into a pile on the floor.
Just as Colm had said, there was a white terrycloth robe hanging from a peg on the back of the door. She grabbed it and thrust her arms inside the sleeves, not caring that it was miles too big, and knotted the belt securely around her waist. Then she grabbed the damp pile of clothing and cracked the door open.
‘Here,’ she said without preamble, and thrust her things through and into his outstretched hands. ‘Thanks.’
‘I’ll go and put this stuff in the dryer.’
Her eyes met his, just for an instant, and she bit her lip. ‘Thanks, Colm, for...everything.’
‘You’re
