Goose On Her Grave
There was a storm coming. And not simply the storm of snow swirling outside the windows.
Rebecca Spencer, now known to the world for the past eight months as Lady Rebecca Ashmore, shivered in the rocking chair despite the fire in the hearth. Her arms tightened just slightly around the child nursing at her breast, her hand stroking the soft down of dark hair covering his head. He was finished, she was simply watching him sleep now. Moving him and closing the top of her gown with deft movements, she cuddled him under her chin for a burp and laid her cheek to the top of his head as she rocked. She couldn't help glancing toward the nursery's casement window uneasily.
Something was coming. She was no prognosticator, but she could feel it. Things were afoot.
What was she waiting for? Why the air of expectancy? If it wasn't trouble, why had _Neecy_ extended the invitation instead of Katherine? It was this niggling detail that had Rebecca concerned. Christopher had laughed at her foreboding when the invitation came, but Rebecca was not entirely certain that it hadn't been a ploy to try to soothe her. His eyes had gone soldier on her, as if some part of him had returned to that state of alertness required for a forthcoming battle.
She trailed her lips along her five-month-old son's scalp as she rocked, smiling softly at the baby snores that erupted from his slightly stuffy nose. Arthur was a miracle as far as Rebecca was concerned. She wasn't exactly young, and at best guess ... he had come into being that very first time that they were together aboard Alexei's boat.
She hadn't been exactly thrilled initially to learn of the consequences of that night. And she'd been terrified to tell Kit, she remembered with a fond smile. Not because she expected him to be upset -- she hadn't honestly thought about *what* he might actually feel. Beyond the obligation that she was bringing to him. And she'd never wanted to be an obligation.
February, 1869.
Her hands clasped tightly together, Rebecca waited in the parlor. When Kit arrived he was smiling with genuine pleasure to see her, but her expression must have given her away because he immediately closed the doors behind him.
"Rebecca, what is it?" he asked in concern, taking both of her still-gloved hands in his. "Has there been bad news?"
Whatever Kit might have expected -- that her brother William had ducked out of the commission that Kit had arranged for him, that her father was ill, something else awful -- her bald words rocked him back on his heels.
"I am with child, Christopher."
He stared at her face with wide eyes. "Marry me," he said almost instinctively. His glance went briefly down her body, her curves still slim though admittedly he'd noticed that some of her endowments were more full recently. "Marry me," he said again, more insistantly, his eyes recapturing her gaze while he drew her closer to him. And he felt panic when he saw her violet eyes darken.
"I..." Rebecca choked on the words, averting eyes suddenly full of tears.
He tipped her chin back to him so he could see her face. "Rebecca... don't." The command was given in a soft tone but it was a command nonetheless.
"But, Kit, I don't want..." Rebecca bit her lower lip, not quite meeting his eyes. "It is foolish. Never mind."
"Do not think for a minute that the child is the only reason," he said softly, as if he could read her thoughts in her face. He held her eyes, showing her the truth of his words. "You have held me captive with fascination for months. The way your mind works ever intrigues me and to merely have you in the same room makes me smile. Rather, I should think that the way I acted on the mad Russian's boat would be enough to tell you how I feel," he added ruefully, enchanted with the blush that still climbed her cheeks at the mention of it. "I was planning to ask you on our outing this weekend, to get down on my knees at dinner and offer you a ring on the ribbon you gave me when we first met. You have simply pre-empted my elaborate plans with your own surprise."
He paused, watching her study his face as if struggling to believe him, and when that shy smile he loved so much slipped across her face his knees nearly went to water.
He'd proven his sincerity on the matter by producing the loveliest sapphire ring she had ever seen once he was done kissing her stupid and grinning a silly grin over the unexpected news. Rebecca shook her head a little as she rocked the baby. She had to be the luckiest woman on the planet, marrying for love not once but twice. But that thought brought her back around to the call from Neecy and the couple who shared a love even greater.
Rebecca's brows furrowed slightly. Something was telling her that Katherine and Ezekiel were back to trickery and adventure... and she wasn't certain she wished to be drawn into their shenanigans with her son still so small. Heaving a soft sigh, she finally pushed herself out of the rocking chair and settled Arthur into his cradle. She stood pensively watching him sleep the innocent sleep of babes, suckling even in his dreams. The trip out to the Fleming estate was going to strain her nerves for certain.
Nothing was ever simple when it came to Ezekiel and Katherine.
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