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“No house? What are you talking about?”
“Whole place naught but a whopping charred hole in the ground.”
“Lazarus,” Cat breathed. Had to be. “Did Aidan say anything about what he’ll do? Where he’ll go?”
“To my way of thinking, that would be a question for your asking.”
Cat picked up the next gown in the stack, counting the tiny pearl buttons. Running a finger over the side seam. Pulling free a loose thread at the neck. Tiny pointless motions as she breathed past the weight upon her chest. Struggled through it to find the warrior within. The one who wouldn’t be sent on her way without a fight. “It’s none of my concern, is it? He’s sending me away.”
Maude pulled the gown from Cat’s unresisting fingers. “Perhaps he feels he’s doing what you want.”
“Oh, Maude. That’s just it. I don’t even know what I want.”
“Then how is he to know?”
She ran him to earth in the dim chill of the old chapel, staring up at the woven rendering of parting lovers. A solemn Sir Archibald receiving a final gift. The woman’s icy perfection not complete enough to hide the sorrow upon her frozen features.
An idyll at an end.
She stepped forward, her boots loud upon the stone floor. “Jack’s ready to leave.”
Aidan turned, a new oaken strength to his features. A new flinty hardness steeling the warmth of his gaze. “We’ve said our farewells.”
“Please, Aidan. Let me stay. I know I can—”
“It’s over, Cat.” He stood carved and expressionless as the busts lining Belfoyle’s south drawing room. There would be no return to the nuzzled spooning of bodies, the whispered endearments in the dark.
“But—” she tried one last time.
This time his face twisted into a mask of animal rage. Frightening. Furious. “What don’t you comprehend? There’s no reason for you to stay. Every reason for you to get out before this place goes up like a damned crate of explosives. We’ve made our decisions,” he snarled. “We have to live with them. That means good-bye.”
He was right. She fumbled her way back toward the staircase, blood pounding in her ears, mouth dry.
A strangled moan followed her up the curl of stairs. Killing her slowly.
A desire to be with him. To stay here forever and the world be damned sank its way past all her strongest defenses.
Her steps dragged.
Beg. Plead. Persuade. Call me back and refuse to let me go. Make me see past my fears. Make me stay, Aidan. Tell me now before it’s too late.
He opened his mouth to call out. Swallowed the plea before it left his lips. She’d made up her mind. He sank down upon the stone floor. Cast his eyes to the lovers’ grief. Strength of mind replacing the broken shards of his heart.
Let her go, Aidan. Let her go before it’s too late.
The storm that had threatened all day caught up with them a mile beyond Belfoyle’s walled boundary. Slowing the coach. Turning bad roads impassable. Twice they were required to get out and walk while the coachman alternately scolded and cajoled the team through rim-high mud.
By nightfall they’d only managed another four sloppy miles with the coachman complaining the horses were exhausted. Light was gone. The road ahead steeped in danger for a lone coach with only one armed groom upon the box.
Jack raised his eyes heavenward. Stretched his long legs in front of him as he checked his watch. “Seven-thirty.” Shoved it back into his waistcoat pocket. “We could have walked to Kilfenora quicker than it’s taken us to drive there.”
Cat had kept silent through most of the afternoon, staring out the window at the bleak spring rain, the stripped branches, the muddy, beaten fields. Now she focused on her companion. Noted for the first time his own strained patience, a frustration that had not all to do with their lack of progress.
“He’s not alone. Mr. Ahern is there,” she offered, though she’d told herself this a thousand times already and it certainly hadn’t made her feel any better.
Jack seemed to be of the same mind, if the skeptical twist of his mouth was any indication. “And that’s supposed to console me?”
“Looks can be deceiving. Ahern saved him once already.”
