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Brendan chuckled, dared to run a hand down her back. “I think you should agree, Mistress. He looks determined to have his way. ”
That surge was the last of her strength. As her feet came back to rest on the sand, her knees buckled. It was Tyler who lifted her this time. Striding out of the water, he laid her down in the hammock again. “Brendan, will you go in and find Sarah, ask her for some towels?”
The man nodded and left them alone. Lying in the hammock, Marguerite could not take her gaze from Tyler’s face. With her vision clear for the first time in days, she saw the deep lines of worry, the drawn tension of his mouth. The fierce resolve in him had been held in place past endurance so that the strain showed in every line. She remembered Sarah’s words, how he sat on the landing, avoiding sleep so the vision of a dancer whose toes had given out on her, strangled her into a willful death, would not haunt him in dreams.
She’d asked for forgiveness, but only now did it hit her, the magnitude of the request. She could feel again, see everything clearly, the water’s cleansing having loosened the guts and blood gumming up the dam to her emotions.
The things she had said and done on that building and since came back to her, not just from her own mind, but because she saw them buried in his expression where they could fester into a cancer if left untended.
She struggled up, despite her weakness. When he would have stopped her, she caught both his hands in her right one and dropped out of the hammock on her knees in the soft sand, bowing her head despite the pain that shuddered through her shoulder.
“Please forgive me, Master. ” She repeated it, lifted her gaze to meet his. He’d squatted down and was holding her upper arms, apparently thinking she needed his assistance.
“I can never forgive myself for saying and doing such things to you as I’ve done. I know how much it must have hurt you. ”
Her voice, low and broken, did something to Tyler. A wall shattered, behind which he’d stored his anger and worry, his gut wrenching, bowel-freezing fear. Because he heard her understanding of his pain, her knowledge of what she’d done, suddenly he didn’t know if he wanted to kill her out of fury, keep her chained to him until he didn’t feel the fury anymore, which might be by the time they were both well over a hundred, or hold her until every part of her was imprinted on him forever.
She sat on her knees, weak from physical and emotional stress and hunger, a woman willing to sacrifice life and more to save an innocent. A woman willing to sacrifice love. As he sat on his heels there long moments with her in her position of supplication before him, that thought repeated itself in his mind and love won out.
For he remembered the message she’d left for him. Chloe had insisted on calling and telling him as soon as they’d let her have a phone at the hospital. Sometimes it had been the only thing he’d been able to hold on to this past week, to believe somewhere deep inside her Marguerite was still there, wanting to be with him.
Marguerite had wanted him. Wanted to live with him. Which meant going onto that building had been even more difficult for her than most, because she’d just newly discovered the desire to live for love and she was about to go do something she’d been certain would obliterate that dream. He had been stupid to lose faith for even a moment. He thanked God that when he had, some other strength he could not name had kept him going.
All of that flooded in, intertwining with his harsher feelings, rational and irrational thought warring in an impossible conflict, until love touched him with insistent hands, recalling one other memory that made the conflict meaningless.
He knelt, lifting her chin. “Marguerite, when you jumped, do you remember anything that went right that should have gone all wrong?”
“You mean, other than us surviving that drop?” Her tone was dry, though her voice still shook with her emotions.
“It’s important. Remember for me, if it’s not too painful, angel. ” Marguerite thought back to the dive off the building, the shock of the dead wind freefall, her father’s abrupt release when she had expected more tenacity. The chute coming free…
“The whole jump was a miracle. ” She shook her head. “My best hope was to get Natalie to the ground in a way she had half a chance of surviving. BASE jumping, building jumping…” she amended the term for his understanding, “is very dangerous and very precise. Her additional weight, my father’s interference, even when I released the chute. I should have been dead. Natalie might have lived, but likely with crippling injury. I didn’t expect to make it. ”
“I know. ” And the anger and pain were in his voice. She reached up to him, aching, but he closed his hand on her wrist, preventing her from touching him.
“Did Chloe tell you?”
“She did. I understand. I do, angel. It’s just…it’s going to take me some time. Just let it go for now. ”
So she subsided, but it was difficult, for she needed his arms around her. “Why did you ask me that?”
“Because. ” He released her to run both hands over his face, a gesture so weary and un-Tyler-like that it almost frightened her. Then she squelched the fear. She would not be Nina. She realized now she relied on his strength, had become dependent on it in a frighteningly short time, but she would never let him think he could not rely on hers and he was due for some leaning. Some serious leaning.
&n
bsp; It was a humbling thought, to realize the weight of the world could not break him, but the loss of her could have. The impact of that struck her hard yet it told her what he needed. What she needed to give him. But first she needed to be sure of her direction.
“Have I lost your love, Tyler?” She spoke the words softly, a gift she’d never asked for, never thought she wanted. Now her life seemed to hinge on it. There was an abyss moving inside her, frozen belief her only light. Her voice trembled like a sputtering flame, unable to let him finish whatever it was he was trying to find out because she needed to know right then.
Shock coursed over his features, but she continued on.
“You’ve cared for me, yes,” she managed carefully. “As I’d expect you to do for me, or Leila, or Sarah or Violet, any woman you care about in similar circumstances. I just need to know. ” Her voice broke. “Have I hurt you past bearing?” He pulled her into his arms and lay back, pulling her onto him so he held her firmly against his full length, her body wrapped in his arms, her head beneath his chin.
“When you jumped from that building, I died,” he said simply, his voice a whisper in her ear. “I was so certain that I was going to lose you that I haven’t known how to feel or think since, beyond the basic steps of caring for you. There’s this rage in me, this anger. Every time I touch you, I want to hold you so tightly that I’ll see pain in your face so it matches what’s raging inside of me. So I’m afraid to let it show. I don’t know what to do with it. I love you so much, Marguerite. There are no words for this kind of love.
It’s not pretty or romantic, it’s as visceral as sex or breathing, something undeniable, necessary to go on living, for anything else to matter.
“I…God…” His hands clutched her. She felt it ripping at him, the memories of one love lost mingling with one almost lost. It was going to tear his mind in two, break a man who believed he was supposed to be unbreakable.
