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Vulnerable.
A quick vision assailed him—a sixteen-year-old on her family’s veranda in Spain. Wind blowing through her hair, her lips shimmered with the velvety softness of a flower petal—and such a sultry gaze. One that pierced his soul.
Immediately infatuated, he’d tumbled recklessly in love with her over the next few weeks they’d been together, under the safe supervision of her parents. But then he had to leave for an assignment and came back wounded. And it was the first of many times he’d placed duty to country over devotion to her.
But then she’d said no more.No more, Roman. Never again.
She did not wave or acknowledge him from her window perch; however, her gaze followed him as he walked up the stairs. The knocker was covered in black, which caused him a moment of concern. Did she already know about her father?
He swallowed then tugged at his jacket sleeve. To see her in any circumstance was awkward and bedeviling; to see her today would be heartbreaking.
Inside, the footman took Roman’s hat and gloves, then escorted him into the sitting room. Shelene still stood at the window, only she’d turned to watch as he entered. Her chest heaved with each breath. Was he happy to know she was as affected by the meeting as he?
Yes! In his heart of hearts, yes.
Her masked expression paralyzed him for a moment. Her beauty seared his innards and made breathing difficult. From the first moment until now. At one time, he’d thought they could not live without each other. They’d lived. Each of them a half-life. A whole lie.
Bowing, he said, “Miss Hightower. At your service.” The months and years disappeared like fog under the afternoon sun.
She dropped into a quick curtsy. “Lord Roman Forrester. A visit from the king’s man? To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”
He took a few steps toward her, but she didn’t move. Finally, he was close enough to take her hand, which he brought to his lips. The kiss was imbibed with all the passion he held in reserve for her. “Shelene.”
The tension between them was less awkwardness than suppressed passion, by Roman’s way of thinking.
With no small effort, she removed her hand and waved it toward the setting of chairs near the fireplace. “Let us sit.”
There was as stillness about the house and Shelene was dressed in a dark, nearly black day dress that matched his somber blacks and brass. The only piece of jewelry she wore was familiar to him. He’d purchased the pin at a market in Constantinople many years ago. A gift for her.
He believed the peacock was lapis lazuli, the rock for royalty in the Roman era, but the jeweled tail was sprayed with small emeralds, sapphires and rubies. Displayed as it was against the black material, the accouterment dazzled.
Strange that she should be wearing the pin today. When he was on her doorstep.
The only other color was on a table, near one of the stuffed chairs, which contained an oval frame with several glittering shades of glass scattered around. The project was nearly finished but he couldn’t see what the stained-glass design was, only that red was the predominant color.
Shelene’s artistry in stained glass was unparalleled, and in his travels, he had seen much to compare to her work. Prior to him leaving that last time, she’d just finished two windows in the church at Bornos, incorporating the view of the mountains as part of her design.
She swept her skirts away and then sat with the aplomb of a foreign princess. “You’ve come to offer condolences? I had half expected you, but with all your travels I didn’t know exactly when.”
Disappointment dripped from her words. And beneath the disappointment, hurt.
“Condolences?” Roman said, his brow pulled low. He prided himself for the control of his features. Tells caused losses at the gaming table. Tells got a man killed.
“Yes. Mother passed away six weeks ago.” She pressed her lips together. “Oh, you had not heard. It was rather sudden and most people, most nobles in London are not willing to acknowledge the Spanish wife of a sea captain. I thought that’s why—”
She sucked in a breath of air and pressed a hand to her breastbone, controlling the deep emotion inside her. He would not blame her if she broke down and cried, but Roman knew her and her monumental resolve.
“Oh, Shelene. I am so sorry. I had not heard.” He sat beside her, feeling the additional weight of tragedy. He placed his hand over her folded ones, now locked tightly on her lap.
“She went quickly. She said she wasn’t in pain. Not that I believed her. And Papa doesn’t even know. He doesn’t know.” Her eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them away. Had she been alone through this tragedy, he wondered? Was it just one more time he had not been there when she needed him?
“Shelene.”
She took a deep breath and smiled at him, timorous and cautious. “How have you been? Mama often asked about you. I never knew what to tell her.”
“She was a magnificent woman.” Gabriella Hightower nee Belgrano was honorable and kind, much like her daughter. She had not tried to convince Shelene that marriage to a man such as he was the right thing. Love or not. She’d lived without her sea-faring husband for most of her married life. She knew the pain Shelene would experience, marriage or not.
“Yes, she was. She wanted to be buried in Spain. Therese accompanied her home. I’m closing up the house, as you can see, and then I’m returning to Spain as well. Papa will find out when he returns that I’ve returned to Andalucía. I hope he won’t be too upset. How can he be? I will be home.”
