The broken she-wolf - Healed by innocence

No regrets

*Lillian*

‘I will be damned before a child of mine is gonna Suffer because of mistakes I made.’

Those words echo through my mind as I lie in my bed, unable to sleep. They tell me a lot about the man. He accepts responsibility for his actions.

But then, if I'm honest with myself, I already knew that, had learned that fact about him the first night when he chopped wood for a bowl of stew.

I don't know the little things about him: his favorite foods, preferred colors. I don't know if he dances or sings.

But I know the important things: He's a rare man who thinks more with his heart than his head. When he loves, he loves deeply, and years don't diminish his affections even when memories fade. I have seen him weep over the loss of a she-wolf, watched him place flowers on the twenty-year-old grave of his mother. Welcomed his gifts of a burned barn and a puppy.

But above all else, I had welcomed the comfort of his presence, the warmth of his touch. For a while, he had eased the sorrow and the loneliness.

For the past two hours, I have heard Blaise tromping around my house. He has no barn in which to sleep. I left the front door unbolted, the door to my room ajar, a portion of me hoping that he would sleep with me… just sleep with me, his arm around me, his breath skimming over the nape of my neck.

I strain my ears for several moments, but no longer hear him stirring outside. He has probably stretched out in the wagon he had brought along with his plans to pack me up and haul me to West Texas as his mate.

I press my hand to my stomach. It isn't the first time that the actions of one night would forever change my life, but our actions are reaching out to touch an innocent child.

Blaise is right. Our child will suffer because of our mistake. Born out of wedlock, she will carry the burden of shame that rightfully belongs to us.

I throw off the blankets and scramble out of bed. In bare feet, wearing nothing but my nightgown, I pad through the house, open the front door, and see Blaise sitting on the porch steps. He glances over his shoulder. I feel his gaze travel from the top of my head to the tips of my toes before he turns his attention back to the blackness stretching across the sky.

I know that rejecting his proposal hurt him. He hadn't joined me for supper. He had prepared a bath for me, but hadn't indulged himself in the luxury. He seems intent on giving all to me and taking nothing for himself.

My mouth grows as dry as cotton. I cross the porch and sit beside him. His knees are widespread, his elbows resting on his thighs, his hands clamped together before him, his gaze trained on the distance. In the shadows of the night, I see the slight breeze brushing his sandy hair over his collar.

"Lot of stars falling from the sky tonight," he says, his voice low.

I follow the direction of his gaze. A ball of light arcs through the black void and disappears like a dream that was never meant to be.

"Make a wish, Lillian," he says quietly.

I close my eyes. One wish. If I'm allowed only one wish, I wish I could unburden my past on this man sitting beside me. I think he, of all people, would understand all that I have done, the things the killer goaded me into doing. I wish I could tell him and not risk losing any of the affection he might hold for me.

"What did you wish?" he asks.

Opening my eyes, I peer at him. He watches me, and even in the darkness, I feel the intensity of his gaze. "If I tell you, it won't come true. Did you make a wish?"

He leans toward me, propping himself up on an elbow. "I wished that you would marry me."

My heart beats faster, harder than the hind foot of a rabbit. He takes the curling end of my braid and carries it to his lips. I almost imagine I feel his breath fanning over it, his soft lips brushing over it.

"I want you to marry me for the sake of our daughter." He says softly.

"Son." I mumble.

His hand stills, the locks of my hair resting against his chin. "Earlier you said…"

"Well, now I'm thinking it's a boy." I roll my head to my shoulder. "I can't decide what it is."

He chuckles low. "Marry me because you make me smile when I haven't in a long time."

"Less than a week ago, you told me that you weren't courting me, that you had nothing to offer me." I point out.

"That was before I knew you needed my name." He cradles my cheek. "I would give you the world if I could, Lillian, but I made a decision five years ago that's gonna limit the things I can offer you. The only thing I have that I can give you is my name, and I hate like hell that I can't give it to you untarnished. But I will work hard. I think I can give you and our children a good life. I know I can give you a better life than the one you have here. At least with me, you won’t have the loneliness."

During the past month, I can count the number of days that contained a promise of happiness. The promise always arrived when he did. My child can have a father who had been in prison or no father at all. Is the past more important than the present? And who am I to judge? My past is as tarnished as his.

"Will you promise me something?" I ask hesitantly.

"Anything." He says.

My stomach quivers, and I clasp my hands tightly together. "Will you promise never to make love to me if you're thinking of Olivia?"

A profound silence stretches between us. Earlier he had mentioned children, not child, and I know he expects more than a marriage in name only. I also know that I could easily come to care for this man, perhaps I already do more than I should. My heart would shatter if he ever again whispered another’s name while joining his body to mine.

"I promise," he rasps.

"Then I will marry you for the sake of the child." I say.

A warm smile creeps over his face, and he grazes his knuckles over my cheek. "I'll make it good for you, Sugar. You won't regret that you had to marry me."

He draws my face toward his and kisses me. Not with passion, not with fire. But with an apology and understanding.

I know I will never regret marrying him, and I hope he will never discover what I have done, the actions that had prompted me to settle for a life of solitude. For if he does, I fear that he would deeply regret marrying me.