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He placed his free hand over hers, hard.
‘Don’t tiptoe around me, Sam. I can’t abide it. Especially not from you. The worst is no one will talk about Jacob or they do what you just did—apologise and run away. Jacob was the best thing that happened in my life. I would not have traded a moment of my time with him for anything else.’
Her hand was buzzing under his and it was a struggle to stay still.
‘I’m glad you had him.’
The image of Maria flashed in her mind, starker than usual in the darkness. The three-year-old’s dark curls woven into the sky, her smile shimmering with stars. She’d had only a year with Ricki’s natural daughter, but she’d loved her and when she’d drowned it had cracked Sam’s heart all over again. It could not compare to Edge’s loss, but she understood what he meant. She wanted so much to share the story with Edge, but guilt held her silent. Ricki bore the brunt of responsibility for Maria’s death, but none of it would have happened if Sam hadn’t been fool enough to think she could escape her pain and loneliness by marrying the charming and gregarious Lord Carruthers.
The silence stretched until he spoke again.
‘I heard Janet telling Poppy she plans to introduce you to some of the younger antiquarians when they reach London.’
‘It is rude to eavesdrop.’
He tossed the stone he held and picked up another.
‘They thought I was asleep.’
‘Still rude.’ She could feel him watching her, her whole left side felt branded and fuzzy. ‘Janet is probably right and it would be best. I am tired of not having a corner of my own.’
It sounded so weak, so utterly out of proportion with her fears and half-formed hopes. Watching her brothers find such contentment had brought back this thirst inside her—to create a home of her own. A family. But after the mistakes she had made with Ricki she was too afraid to trust her judgement about men. The thought of finding herself in that hell...again. By choice...again. She didn’t think she could do that.
‘You miss your husband.’ Edge’s words cut through her fog and they were so far from the truth her throat closed with shame and guilt. A memory returned, vivid and bitter—Ricki rising from the last time he shared her bed, his body slick with sweat as he loomed over her, flinging insults and threats, but all she could hear was the scream inside her head and the prayer that he would hold true to his threat never to touch her again until she begged him to. A shiver of remembered disgust at both of them rippled through her and Edge stood abruptly.
‘It is late. We should return.’
She rose as well, feeling utterly defeated and not even sure why.
‘You have changed,’ he said after walking a while. ‘In the past you never would have agreed to return without at least a token argument. I don’t know if that’s a good thing, Sam.’
‘Make up your mind, Edge. You spent years lecturing me for being wild and now you’re bemoaning how tame I’ve become. Be damned to you,’ she snarled and marched off.
‘Sam...’ He caught up with her, but she walked faster.
‘I don’t want more of your twisted brand of wisdom, Edge. Go away.’
‘You’re heading the wrong way.’
She stopped. Her jaw ached with a kind of fury she could not remember ever feeling, not even at Ricki. It felt like it might raise the whole of the desert around her into biblical eruption. Maybe this was what desert sandstorms were—somewhere a woman unleashed them when the ferocity she held inside could be contained no longer. Sandstorms, volcanos, typhoons... She felt she could unleash them all right now.
I am Sam. I am Sam. I am...
‘No one will hear you if you want to howl at the world again.’
‘Don’t be nice to me, Edge,’ she snapped.
‘I’m merely stating a fact.’
‘You will hear me and probably say something obnoxious. Again.’
‘Here. If I say anything, you have my permission to throw this at me.’
He held out a fist-sized stone. Without thinking she took it and threw it. Hard. It hit a boulder with a sharp clack and a small burst of dust visible even in the darkness.
‘You’ve a good arm,’ he observed without heat. ‘Were you aiming for that, or was it mere chance?’
‘You are lucky you waited to speak until after I threw it. Don’t you ever lose your temper?’
‘Not often. Not for a while at least.’
‘When was the last time?’
‘When?’ He looked up at the sky, frowning. ‘I can’t remember.’
‘You used to lose it often enough at me.’
He smiled, still at the stars.
