She’d seen Harbury bewildered. She’d seen him hurt. She’d seen him delighted. And she’d seen him in the very depths of passion. But she’d never seen him like this.
His pupils had expanded so much, his brown eyes appeared to be black. Her mouth dried as she focused on a vein bulging menacingly in his neck. Instinctively, she threw up her arm, turning away to shield her face.
“My God! Cassandra!”
She cringed, knowing she had responded as she would have, not to Harbury, but to her father.
“Do you know me so little?” he whispered.
She pressed the back of her wrist against her eyes. “I don’t know you at all.”
To her shame, a great, ugly sob racked her body. To prevent another, she gritted her teeth.Hard.So hard the second sound that tore from the deepest part of her ache was not a sob, but a battle cry. Then, she closed her eyes, shutting out not only him, but the world.
She gave herself over to the sorrow and wept.
“You know me,” he said softly, gently.
She thrust out the arm she’d been holding aloft—not to hit him, but to stop him from coming any closer. Already, he was too close. She couldn’t bear any greater proximity.
“You know me,” he repeated, entreaty in his voice.
She closed her eyes and shook her head, willing her ears to deafen his words.
But he would not be silenced. He just kept repeating the phrase.
The words clanged through the carriage, unstoppable as the wheels on a runaway cart. It was as if he thought repetition wouldforce her to listen. But reiteration had precisely the opposite effect.
His murmurings blended one into another, saturating and hissing in her mind until his individual words held no meaning. The sounds burrowed beneath her skin, forcing her to twist toward the corner, curl her neck inward, and hunch her body.
She didn’t even notice when he took her into his arms, nor did she realize the rocking she did feel was no longer due to the carriage, but only to the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. He cradled her cheek against his shoulder, his large, chilled fingers cooling her face. By degrees, she lost the will to physically fight, even as her inner walls stood firm.
“You know me.” He spoke against her ear. “You know me better than she ever did.”
His final phrase splintered into her mind, driving holes in the places where she was most vulnerable. Holes not big enough to break down her resistance, but big enough to let in light.
The pounding in her ears lessened, gradually replaced by the steady beat of his heart.
The carriage had stopped.
How long ago, she didn’t know. Gradually, she became aware of birdsong. Of a light breeze through the copse of trees adjacent to the Hall.
She rubbed her prickly nose and then wiped beneath her eyes.
Beyond the ruffle of his collar, she could just make out the grayish stone of Harbury Hall.
Her gasping slowed as he continued to stroke her hair. At some point, she’d lost her bonnet, but what did she care if she looked a fright?
She was in love with a man who’d just devastated her. And somehow, she was going to have to pull herself together.
How could she do this?
How could she walk back into her home, knowing that woman’sghost haunted every room?
She closed her eyes, allowing herself one last sob.
At least, from the crumpled fabric beneath her cheek, she knew she’d ruined Harbury’s stupid, starched collar. She concentrated on the pressure of his hand against her head, willing herself to remember his words.You know me better than she ever did.
If he wasn’t truly sorry for hurting her, would he be holding her this close?
