The Prodigal Son (29 page)

“Is he gone?” Alex asked Simon when he joined her.

“Nay, last I saw Joan was preparing his breakfast.”

“Fucking great, I said two nights, not two nights and three full days.” She looked off in the direction of Cumnock. Nothing; no dust cloud, no glinting reflexes. “Will you stay? Keep an eye out?”

He nodded and pulled the cloak tighter around him. “And you?”

“Me? I have a houseguest to get rid of.”

“When will he leave?” Alex asked Matthew when she entered the kitchen, “I want him out of my house now.”

“But he’s ill! His cough is as bad as when I brought him here.”

Alex pointed up the lane. “What will you do if – no, when – a troop of soldiers materialises up there? Pick him up on your shoulders and rush for the woods? Hide him under the bed and hope they don’t look there? You promised me, Matthew Graham, that you wouldn’t put us at risk, and yet that is what you’re doing every minute he remains in our home. Don’t touch me,” she snarled when he attempted to put an arm around her. “Don’t try to cuddle me into acceptance. You promised.”

“He’s a friend in need.”

Alex shook her head slowly. “He’s an outlaw, and his presence here puts all of us at risk. Do you want to see us all bonded into slavery? Do you want your sons to live out what life they have as slave labour on a tobacco farm in Virginia?”

That was very underhand; a kick that hit him squarely in the balls. He jerked as violently as if she’d slapped him, his eyes shifting into a muddy green.

“You know I don’t.”

“And still that’s what you’re risking. Me abused, your children slaves and yourself a slave or hanged.” She didn’t like herself for saying that, not when all of him paled, an arm flung out to steady himself against the wall.

“You know…” he began, swallowing so hard she could see his Adam’s apple bob up and down. He raised agonised eyes to hers. “I don’t want that, but I can’t leave Sandy to die.” Their eyes locked and held.

“It’s a question of priorities. Your family or your friend; your marriage or your friend, your life – all our lives – or his life. Take your pick, but be prepared to live with the consequences.”

He said nothing for a while. She held his eyes, listening to the sound of her breathing, his breathing.

“He’ll be gone by noon,” he said and turned on his heel.

Chapter 24

They didn’t know how to reach each other – or rather she didn’t want to, torn into shreds that he should have broken his promise to her. To her! Words rose hot and angry up her throat at the sight of him, words that twisted her tongue into knots and were swallowed down – some things were best left unsaid. Instead, Alex escaped into the preparations for the coming Hogmanay festivities – however uninspired she felt about the whole thing.

“At least no one will leave hungry,” Alex said, counting the stacked pies, puddings and cakes. “Should we really be holding this dance?” she went on, directing herself to Joan. “It could be considered unseemly.”

Mrs Williams was but eight days in the ground, Matthew and she weren’t talking or even touching each other, the children orbited like nervous satellites round their silent parents, Joan kept on dropping oblique comments regarding Christian duty in general and versus ministers in particular. Alex sat down to nurse Daniel. He alone of the whole family remained oblivious, smiling at his mother.

“It’s too late to cancel,” Joan said, “and mayhap it’s what people need. A celebration among friends.” She was packing foodstuffs into a basket.

“For Sandy?” Alex asked somewhat sharply.

“Aye. Matthew will be taking it to him later. We mustn’t forget our friend and preacher.”

There it was again, that disapproving edge, and Alex decided there and then that she’d had it.

“And if it were your children? If it were your Simon that risked hanging for the sake of friendship and faith?”

Joan’s cheeks acquired a pink tone. “Some things are worth it.”

“Easy for you to say,” Alex snapped back. “You’re not exactly risking anything, are you? It’s my man who’ll be carrying that basket over the moor, not you or your precious Simon. And if he’s stopped? Shot? What will you tell me? That I should be glad he died because of a worthy cause? Even worse, Joan, they won’t shoot him. No, they’ll fine him and then we’ll all be lost. Or will you put up the 200 merks?”

Joan hid her eyes, muttering that such money couldn’t be found.

“No,” Alex said. “I didn’t think so. Bloody hypocrite.” She stood up with Daniel in her arms and swept out of the room, kicking the kitchen door shut behind her.

“I hear you’ve quarrelled with Joan,” Matthew said, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“At present I seem to be quarrelling with everyone,” Alex muttered back. Her head hurt after an aggravated discussion with Simon. It wasn’t as if she’d expected Joan to take off on her own to deliver the stuff to Sandy, was it? And anyway, why shouldn’t she? If she was so keen on helping Sandy bloody Peden then she could take a brisk walk across the moor just as well as Matthew could. Probably safer, given her gender.

“With me as well?” Matthew dropped his hand to rest on her hip.

“Of course with you! This is all your fault to begin with.” She batted his hand off her hip and scooted up to sit against the headboard. “You promised me, and even worse… No, shut up, you listen to me, okay?” she glared when Matthew seemed on the point of interrupting. She took a big breath, took another. “How could you? How could you bring him here and not even tell me? Do you think I’d be so cold hearted as to refuse him help, given his state?”

“No, but…”

“But what? Better to sneak him in?”

“I didn’t stop to think, aye? I was wet and cold, it was growing light and all I had in my head was to make it back home without being discovered. And Joan was awake, so she helped me get him up the stairs, and then, well, I knew you wouldn’t like it, so…”

“So you hoped I wouldn’t find out,” she finished for him. “You obviously think me very stupid or unobservant.”

“Of course not! I would have told you at some point.”

“Yeah, if nothing else just as the soldiers came galloping down our lane.” She hugged her pillow to her chest, eyes never leaving him. “You know, something along the lines ‘
Alex, I forgot to tell you, but we may have a wee problem
.’” She mimicked his accent to perfection, and despite the situation he smiled.

“None of you understand,” Alex said. “It isn’t that I don’t like Sandy – even if at times he’s a bit too much – it’s that I’m paralysed with fear that by helping him you’re damning us. To me, our children must always come first; to me you come first. But to you it seems Sandy’s wellbeing is more important, and that hurts.”

“That isn’t true, you know it isn’t true.” He moved close enough to touch her, his hand closing over her ankle. “I won’t do it again.”

“Do what? Lie to me? Break your promises?”

“I’ll not place us at risk, I’ll even stop helping…” He looked crushed, saying that, and Alex gave him a long look.

“And so you’ll sit on your hands and hate me for stopping you from rushing off in defence of your friends and beliefs.” She shook her head. “I can’t ask that of you. But I do ask that you tell me the truth – always – and that you keep our home out of it.”

“I promise,” he said, and at her raised brows he gave her a crooked smile. “I do, Alex. And I won’t break it this time, nor will I lie to you again. I’ll tell you everything.”

She gave him a doubtful look, making him frown.

“My word, aye? Don’t you believe me?” He leaned towards her, sinking his eyes into hers.

“I do,” she said after a minute or so. “But if you break it, I’ll leave.”

“Leave? How leave?”

“Walk out the door, up the lane and take off.” She jerked her head in the direction of several half-packed leather satchels. She’d even talked to Simon about it, but he’d looked horrified at the thought. To be honest, so was she, but there were days when all of this was just too much, long nights when she worried she wouldn’t cope, couldn’t live with this constant burden of fear that somehow he’d be torn away from her. She couldn’t meet his eyes, and instead focused her attention on her wedding ring, turning it round and round her finger.

“I’ll not break it,” he said hoarsely.

“Good.”

“You should make your peace with Joan,” he said as he got to his feet.

“Or she with me. She’s been the one dropping nasty comments the last few days.”

“You’re somewhat intimidating to her.”

“She’s the perfect Christian, not me, so if she wants to make things up then she’d better take the initiative. I won’t.” Don’t even go there, her tone warned. With a sigh Matthew turned to leave.

“Matthew?”

He stopped by the door. “Aye?”

“I want it to be like it’s supposed to be.”

“So do I, lass.”

She nodded and kept her eyes on the wall. With a soft thud the door closed in his wake.

Later that same day, Matthew followed the sound of shrill, happy voices, smiling when he heard Rachel insist that she could so swim, and that come summer she’d show Mark for real. Tomorrow his lass would be four, born in the Colony of Virginia on New Year’s Eve. He had received her into this world, his hands had been the first to touch her, his arms the first to hold her, and he wondered if this was why he felt such a strong affinity with her. Or mayhap it was because she was so much her mother’s daughter, and by watching Rachel grow he achieved a small insight into the child Alex had once been.

The laundry shed was full of young bodies in different states of undress. Ian was already in his shirt again, Jacob and Daniel both as naked as the day they were born, and Mark was busy with his stockings. Rachel was still in the tub, singing something to herself.

“Do you need help?”

Alex gave him a flustered look, shoving her hair off her damp and rosy face. She looked lovely, and suddenly he knew exactly what to do to mend things between them. He reached forward and tugged at an escaped curl, watching with interest how the tip of her ears went a promising pink.

“The idea was that I was going to sneak off for a bath all on my own,” she said. “But then all of these decided they wanted to bathe.”

“Not me,” Ian said in a surly voice.

“No,” Alex grinned at him. “But if I’m doing four I might as well do five.”

In less than five minutes Matthew had the laundry shed empty of children, promising Alex she’d get the hours of peace she needed while he made sure the children were fed and put to bed. She sank down on the bench with a grunt, and sat like that for some time, waiting for the water in the cauldron to heat up. Matthew had created a system of barrels that filled with rainwater or melting snow, and these barrels were close enough to the cauldron to make the water carrying much less of a burden. Still; three pails here, another two here… her arms ached with the effort.

Alex undressed, wondering at what point Matthew intended to return. When she was in the bath or after? Her hands slid down her front, over her thighs. The enforced regime of regular morning exercise she’d implemented after Daniel’s birth was having the desired effect, even if her abdominal muscles would never be the same again. She panicked regularly over getting old, because all around her she saw women younger than her collapse into something that was more old age than she’d ever seen in her own time. Teeth dropped out, spinal columns bent into a permanent hunch…

With an inhalation she stepped into the tub. Too hot, and she hopped from one foot to the other for some time before lowering herself inch by protesting inch into the water. There, much better; she sank down deeper into the water, low enough that it should lap at her face. Her hand slid in between her legs, and she was wet and slippery but slightly cooler than the water that surrounded her. She touched herself, floating in her bath and longed for Matthew, for the strength of him inside her and the length of him on top of her.

Alex flounced into the kitchen.

“Did you have a good bath?” Matthew could see in her eyes that she’d expected something more, and it pleased him, making his privates tighten considerably. She muttered something, hung up her cloak and moved towards the staircase but was blocked by Matthew.

“Did you?”

She was only in her clean shift, and he stood close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating from her.

“Yes,” she said in a breathless voice. He nodded, moving aside. Once again a flaring disappointment in her eyes. She could wait for it, he would make her wait.

All that evening he teased her; a foot snaking its way up her legs under the table, a hand that tightened hard on her hair as he passed her chair, a finger brushed along her spine. He sat across the room from where she was sewing, and he knew that all he had to do was catch her eyes and tilt his head and she’d rise and go upstairs to wait for him. It made him throb, and he found it increasingly difficult to concentrate on what Simon was saying.

His wife could play this game too, holding out the shirt she was making and telling him to stand up so that she could measure it against him. Her hands fondled him through the cloth of his breeches, and Matthew almost folded over but was held upright by her other hand on his shoulder.

“Oops,” she grinned as she stuck him with a pin, very much on purpose. With a prim expression she sat back down and went on with her stitching, but he could see how her legs trembled, how her chest heaved.

Finally, Matthew could wait no more. His cock was on fire and he no longer even pretended to be listening to Simon, his eyes glued to his wife’s vulnerable nape. Also on purpose, he recognised, Alex stretching and commenting on something while she pulled her hair up high onto her head, leaving neck and ears tantalisingly bare. Her eyes slid in his direction, dark in the weak light of the room. He licked his lips and raised a brow. She smiled, a slow, hidden smile that made all of her glow.

“Off with you,” Simon snorted, shoving at Matthew who fidgeted at his tone, muttering something about being tired.

“Aye,” Simon said. “You’ll fall asleep the moment your head touches the pillow.”