At last, he stopped crying and slowly got to his feet, but with the look of a broken man.
That was the moment Emma was hauled out of the pit of emptiness and felt the first stirrings of heartbreak. And pity. How in the world had Logan come to this? Why hadn’t he trusted her enough to tell her?
“I didn’t think you’d come,” he said, clutching the bars, his nose running, his face wet with tears.
“They wouldn’t let me come until now,” she explained, “and they told me you’re leaving tomorrow.”
Emma had lain awake in bed half the night remembering their summer together—meeting at dawn to gallop on the beaches, the excitement and anticipation of every encounter, and the sharing of ideas, knowledge, and theories about the horses. Most importantly, her first sexual experience with a man. Physically, at least.
“But you can’t leave without telling me what happened,” she said. “Not just in Saskatchewan, but between us. Was any of it real?”
“Of course it was. What do you want to know?” he asked. “I’ll tell you everything.”
It was not an easy question to answer. Of course she wanted to know his side of the story about the death of a dairy farmer, and other sordid details she’d been told, but she needed to know something else first.
“Did you actually love me? Or was it all just a way to escape this?”
“Of course I loved you,” he replied, sounding almost indignant. “And I still love you now. Maybe I was a fool, but after I met you, I thought I had a chance to be happy, that I could start a new life and be a new person. I wanted that more than anything.”
“But that’s not possible for anyone,” she countered. “You can’t escape who you are.”
Logan dropped his gaze to the cement floor. “Obviously not. I see that now. But I couldn’t help wanting it.” After a moment, he shook his head. “How did they ever find me?”
It was a rhetorical question, but Emma provided the answer regardless. “There were wanted posters in the police station, and one of the clerks thought he recognized you at a pub on Argyle Street. You were followed back to Ruth’s house, and the next morning, she was questioned at the school.”
He nodded, accepting the information. Then his bloodshot eyes lifted. His brow was creased with worry. “They’re not accusing you of anything, are they? For harboring a fugitive?”
“No,” she replied. “Ruth explained how you and I met on Sable Island, and I confirmed that with the police. They understand that I was duped.”
He bent his head to rest on the cell bar. “You weren’t duped, Emma. I swear to God, I fell in love with you.”
For a moment, she felt the tug of seduction—the desire to believe that love and passion could conquer all, and that she could find her way back to the bliss of those early days in his arms, in the warm, sandy hollows of Sable. She had trusted him then, but he was different now. And so was she.
“What happened between you and that man?” she asked. “And please tell me the truth. I can’t handle any more lies. Lies would kill this even more dead than it is already.”
Logan bowed his head. “Please don’t say that.”
“Then tell me the truth.”
“All right.” He moved to the cot against the wall and sank onto the thin mattress. “But I hope you’ll give me some credit for honesty if you’re going to hate me forever.”
“Don’t jump to false conclusions,” she said. “Just tell me.”
He took a deep breath, as if to summon courage. “Fine. Here’s the truth. Before I left Saskatchewan, I had an affair with a married woman. It went on for about six months.”
The words hit Emma like gun pellets to the chest. Despite everything—how his behavior over the past month had challenged her patience, and how the discovery of his lies now made her doubt their entire relationship—she still loved him. It wasn’t that long ago that they were passionate and euphoric on their wedding night. Hearing of another woman felt like a terrible betrayal.
“Did you love her?” Emma asked, hearing a tremor of hurt in her voice.
“I suppose I did.” His gaze fell to the floor. “I’m sorry, Emma. You wanted honesty.”
“I did,” she replied.
But the truth, spoken from his own lips, made her sick to her stomach. Her heart clenched, and she writhed with jealousy, but she was angry too.
She steeled her emotions and pushed on. “Tell me the rest. All of it.”
He paused, then spoke in a low monotone, as if he needed to tamp down his shame. “She was the wife of a farmer whose herd I looked after. I guess he figured out what was going on, because he called me one night, late, to come look at one of his cows. He was waiting for me in the barn, and I knew as soon as I saw him that he was fit to be tied. We got into a scuffle, but I managed to pin him down and ... I ... I killed him. I didn’t mean to. I swear to you. I just ... I snapped.”
