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Chapter One
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard nomore.
—Shakespeare,Macbeth
Nicholas tugged thebridle, pulling Taurus to a stop, and then slid from the stallion. Relief coursed through his cramped legs. He let the reins drop and brushed at his jacket and trousers, the rising dust tickling his nose, its chalky residue lingering on his tongue. He straightened, rolling his shoulders, and tension rippled down his spine until the muscles in his lower back contracted and released.
The domed roof of the addition to the manse rose above the tree line, the pearl marble gleaming in the sun. It reminded him of the folly, once his pride and joy. His dream of architecture long gone, he wondered if the sight of the folly would still bring pleasure. He glanced in its direction, but it was well hidden by the forest, cloistered from the world as he’d hoped when he’d first envisioned it.
Taurus, nostrils flaring, snorted, blowing a warm stream of air across Nicholas’s face. He’d ridden him too hard. He patted the stallion’s neck, the hair moist beneath his hand. “You’re a good man.” A few feet off the main drive, the bridge beckoned. He left the horse, knowing it would wait where it stood. Stubborn but loyal. Like Catherine. He scanned the ground for a small rock. Scrub grass and a few pebbles but nothing worthy of a wish.
His boots clicked against the wood. He stopped midway. It was impossible to tell if the lake was well stocked with fish. There was no sign of movement beneath the surface, but it was a deep lake. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d held a rod. Such indulgences were probably now and forever relegated to the past. There would be no hours to waste, no idle time to fill. Not that there’d been for years, but he’d always thought leisurely activities would enrich his life once again. And Catherine’s. All dreams included Catherine.
Reaching up, Nicholas ripped the epaulet from his shoulder, clutching it in his fist. He raised it to his mouth and kissed his curled fingers, the rough metallic threads coarse against his lips. “To simple pleasures.” The gold braid plopped ungracefully into the lake, tilting awkwardly as it absorbed water. He watched the epaulet sink, wishing it took his shame with it, wanting to bury the last four years under the silt and sludge at the bottom. If only it were that easy.
The special license tucked inside his jacket brought some comfort. He traced its stiff outline, his heart lightening at the promise it held. The far end of the bridge beckoned. It would be so easy to cross it and follow the path to Stratton Hall. To see Catherine. To hold her in his arms again. He drew his shoulders back and pivoted. He knew too well how to stiffen his resolve as well as his back. Pleasure must be delayed for duty. Catherine would have to wait.
The rising specter of Woodfield Park summoned. It was time to face Daniel.
*
The dove shifteduncomfortably from foot to foot, eyeing Catherine with suspicious curiosity.
“You’ve nothing to fear from me,” she said.
It cocked its head, blinking rapidly, dark eyes judging. A warm breeze swept through the enclosure, and Catherine brushed at an escaped tendril drifting across her eyes. Startled by her unexpected movement, the dove flitted away with a fluttering coo. She fought foolish disappointment. Perhaps the gentle bird would come again tomorrow.
For Catherine would return. Drawn here, despite many resolutions to cease the daily ritual, she liked the quiet solitude, although peace remained elusive. Perhaps it would always remain so, for atonement for their sins could only be granted by one person. And she feared he would not be forgiving. Leaves rustled restlessly, and sparrows chirruped a litany to her musings.
She drifted around the tomb, her hand trailing along the stone, its surface cool despite the warm day. She stopped at the rosebush. It was a fledgling, but someday its blossoms would spill color over the bland gray. Yellow, like sunshine on a cloudy day. Daniel would like that.
His laughter still echoed off the rock walls. They’d used to play here as children. Daniel had loved to scare the stuffing out of her. He would hoot with triumphant glee and fall to the ground with her brother, both boys holding their sides, rejoicing at her fright. Life had been so unfettered then.
Odd how someone can be so vibrant, so infused with life, one day, then the next day cease to exist.
She knelt at the head of the tomb and pushed at the loose soil, unearthing dankness as she molded it to support the base of the struggling scrub. Frustration rose anew, and she slapped at the dirt. She had wanted to be at the service, needed to be there to say goodbye. As Daniel’s intended, she’d assumed it was her prerogative. Instead, her protestations had been hushed with mumbles about delicate sensibilities, and quicker than she’d been able to argue, certainly sooner than she could ever have anticipated, the deed had been done. Roses were all she had left to offer him.
Pressing her forehead against the unforgiving limestone did not stop the inevitable question.Why? Oh, Daniel, why?
“Catherine?”
She froze. Surely the voice was the whisper of the breeze, simply her imagination running rampant once again.
“Catherine?”
His deep baritone sent familiar shivers down her back. Nicholas. No flight of fancy, then. He was here. How many times had she dreamed of him these last four years? How often had she longed for him? She pushed her head harder against the stone, the pressure providing no easement to the flood of emotion. Nicholas. Home at last. But she could no longer have him. She had burned that bridge and could offer no palatable explanation for casting him aside. He would never forgive her.
He touched her, and heat radiated where his hand rested on her shoulder. Still, she could not lift her face. She did not wish to see her betrayal reflected in his eyes. He brushed his hand softly, comfortingly, along her arm. A shudder shimmied throughout her body.Oh, Nicholas. I am so sorry.
“Catherine, my love,” he said quietly as he continued the gentle caress. “It does my heart good to know that Daniel has had you to mourn him in my absence.”
She had not shed any tears since they’d found Daniel’s body, but they threatened now. She wiped at her eyes, angry at her weakness. This was not the time. She reached up and placed her hand upon his, gathering strength to face what she must. Stiffening her spine, she looked up. The tenderness softening his eyes was almost her undoing. Inhaling deeply, she shook off her self-pity. It was too late for regrets. She removed her hand, and he gallantly offered his, assisting her to her feet.
“Nicholas.” So much needed to be said, yet no words came. She wanted to reach out, to trace the sharp edges of his cheekbones, to feel him, to know he was truly here. But she’d surrendered that right.
He smiled hesitantly and then pulled her close, smelling of horse and the sweat and dust of the road. She wrapped her arms around him, grateful for this moment. Perhaps he had forgiven her? No, not Nicholas. He would not excuse such a transgression. His chin rested on the top of her head.
“I find it difficult to believe my brother lies here,” Nicholas said quietly.
