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He forced his expression to remain neutral.
“But you told Terric you would not marry him. That you came here instead. Why, precisely?” Once he started talking, Conrad could not seem to stop. “Just as importantly, why did you stop writing? Do you know how many letters I sent after your last one?”
Despite knowing he should calm himself, Conrad could not.
“You asked me to keep our exchange from Terric, so I did. Despite all we’ve been through, your brother and I . . . despite the fact that he trusts me with his life, and I trust him with mine, not once did I tell him I’d confessed my love to his sister. A woman who glimpsed inside my very soul. Before she crushed it.”
As he spoke, Conrad realized from the flicker in her eyes that she’d never even read those letters. The ones he continued to send after she ceased to respond.
“I wanted to read them. Broke every seal myself but . . .”
He could not do this. There was too much pain he had long ago buried.
Conrad tried to move past her, but Cait’s gentle touch on his arm froze him in place as easily as the tip of a broadsword.
“Please.”
Two layers of clothing separated him from her hand, but its featherlight touch penetrated them easily. It branded him.
“I cannot,” he said, though Conrad did not move.
“You said you loved me.”
“Once.”
He continued walking, with difficulty, but did not ascend the stairs. He’d come to hear this, and so he would. No matter how difficult it might be. Turning toward her, Conrad hardened himself against her words, waiting for Cait to continue.
“I loved you too.”
“No.” He shook his head. “You did not. You stopped writing me, Cait. You never came.”
Letter after letter, he’d begged her to return to the tournament.
They’d opened themselves to each other in a way people rarely did in person. Maybe because it was easier to write hard truths than it was to say them, or maybe because their connection had immediately been strong. Either way, he’d told her things he hadn’t disclosed to anyone, and she had done the same.
They knew each other in a deep way that transcended the few times they’d seen each other in person.
He knew that she felt weak after the attack. That she’d despised her inability to fight back.
Conrad had encouraged her to speak to Terric, to ask him to train her too. But she’d said her brothers were much too stubborn—they’d consider it a slight on their ability to protect her.
He also knew that Cait saw everything. Observed everyone. Some thought her haughty because of it. Others believed her shy. But she was simply thoughtful, watching and waiting for the moment when her words would have an impact.
But for all he knew about this woman, there was so much he didn’t understand, including why she had refused to meet him again in person. Once, Conrad had even suggested that he visit her at Bradon Moor.
It was the last time he’d ever heard from her.
“I am here now.”
Their eyes locked.
Her meaning was clear.
When he’d overheard her speaking to Terric of Colin MacGregor . . . Conrad had not known what to think. Only that he needed to know if she had come here, to England, for him.
He had his answer.
“Why now? Why after all this time?”
“Colin—”
“Why now?” he repeated, angered at her poor timing. Angry, still, that she had allowed his heart to soar with hope, only to send it crashing down. Conrad did not know that he was capable of loving again, even her.
Some might say he had never truly loved her in the first place. A woman he’d never touched. Never kissed. But he knew otherwise.
Cait didn’t answer. Maybe she didn’t know the answer, but that simply was not good enough for him.
“I have to go.”
This time, Conrad did not turn back. Heart hammering in his chest, he chided himself for thinking he would get answers from a woman so private her own brother had not known she’d fallen in love with his friend. With the man who bore the scar that reminded him of her every day of his life.
Cait Kennaugh was here.
For him.
Unfortunately, he could not be here for her.
