Part 33 (1/2)

Why hadn't Connor's mother told Braden anyway?

Maggie didn't know for sure, but she suspected Braden would have gladly taken the boy in. And even if he hadn't, Lochlan most a.s.suredly would.

Don't judge his mother, Maggie, she told herself. 'Tis for G.o.d alone to do.

But it was hard not to.

In fact, at that moment, she didn't know whom she wanted to thrash more, Connor's mother or Braden.

Laying the matter aside for the moment, she pushed open the door to her room to see Connor sitting on the bed. He jumped off as if terrified she would scold him, and when he saw the food in her hands, he wahooed again.

Maggie placed the tray on the small table by the fire and watched in delight as he crammed roasted beef, carrots, peas, onions and apples into his mouth.

Once he finished eating, she tucked him into her bed and left him there to dream of better days to come.

He fell asleep almost as soon as he closed his eyes.

Maggie listened to his gentle snore as she brushed her hand through his hair.

”Oh, Braden,” she whispered, wondering how she was going to tell him he was a father.

On the one hand, she could kill him for leaving the boy, but on the other, she knew he had no way of knowing about Connor. Poor Connor's mother probably had no idea what she should do, and the sight of Braden kissing another had probably cut her all the way to her heart.

Had Maggie been in the woman's shoes, she would have marched herself across the yard and confronted Braden while he groped another.

But that was her, and not the poor woman who had been brokenhearted.

Suddenly a s.h.i.+ver went through her as she thought about herself. What if she carried his child already?

The answer was simple.

”I will love it as much as I love its father,” she whispered. And she would. Just as she loved the little part of Braden that was snoring softly in her bed.

Like father, like son.

Leaning forward, she brushed her lips against his forehead in a light kiss. ”Happy dreams, sweeting.”

She pulled the covers over him, then went to find his father.

Braden sat alone in the hall. Everyone else had long taken themselves to bed in preparation for what they would do on the morrow.

Even Sin had wandered off, making Braden wonder if his brother had finally found one of the Scottish la.s.ses to his liking. And there had certainly been a number of them to choose from.

The bad part was that, for the first time in his life, none of them appealed to him in the least.

Braden cursed.

”She's turned me into a b.l.o.o.d.y eunuch,” he muttered as he drained the last of his ale.

And then he thought of Maggie's words:You prefer mulled wine ...

Cursing again, he set the tankard back on the table. How had she done it? How had she wormed her way into his carefully guarded heart?

Over and over, he could feel her against him. Hear her murmurs in his ear as her breath stirred against his skin. Closing his eyes, he savored the memory.

And then he cursed it.

He would banish her from his thoughts. Aye.

”Braden?”

He almost jumped out of his chair at the sound of her voice coming from behind him.

Turning, he saw her standing in the shadows. ”Ithought you would be in bed by now.”

”I can't sleep,” she said, moving closer. She paused at the table, turned to face him, then leaned her b.u.t.tocks against the table's edge so that she could see him while they talked.

Braden kept his gaze on the tankard. He didn't dare look into those deep amber eyes, lest they captivate him and make him forget what he must-or, more to the point, must not-do to her.

”What is on your mind?” he asked with a nonchalance he didn't feel.

”I was thinking of something you said to me earlier.”

She paused, and when it became apparent that she wasn't going to finish her thought, Braden made the mistake of looking up at her.

His heart ached at the confusion and sorrow he saw in her eyes. Her gaze on the floor beside his chair, she had her brows knitted.

”And what was that?” Braden prompted her, in spite of the voice in his head that told him to leave the matter be.

Maggie looked up and pinned him with a probing stare. ”You said that you would love to have a family of your own. Did you mean that?”

His gut wrenched. So that was what was on her mind. She was now looking for him to marry her. And he couldn't do that. He mustn't.

”Now, Maggie, don't be thinking-”

”I'm not thinking of marrying you,” she said sharply, cutting him off. ”I am not the woman for you, and we both know it. I just wanted to know if you meant what you said. Do you want children?”

He couldn't imagine why she would ask such a thing.

Unbidden, an image of a child popped into his mind. One with her mother's curly russet hair and her father's bright hazel eyes. He could see the child so plainly in his mind, hear her gentle laughter as she ran, that one would think she was real.

And worse than the image was the sudden need he found within his heart to make that child a reality.

”Nay!” he roared, wanting to push the thought out of his mind as quickly as possible.

Maggie blanched.

”I see,” she said quietly, then pushed herself away from the table. And him.

Braden reached out to take her hand and keep her at his side. ”Maggie, wait, I didn't mean that.”