by Bree Wolf
Nathan wasn’t certain what it was he hoped for. Perhaps hope was the wrong word. Perhaps it was simply a matter of the lesser evil for no matter what happened after tonight, life had gutted him yet again. Although he had been far from happy, Nathan had somehow managed to make it through his days. He’d found a way to set one foot in front of the other without crumpling to the ground, her loss a burden he could not bear.
He had borne it. He’d pulled himself together and staggered onward. But what now?
All of a sudden, Nathan could not imagine himself continuing on as he had before. All of a sudden, everything was different and he cursed her for the hold she still had on him. It seemed no matter what he did, he would never be free of her, never escape the longing that had overwhelmed him tonight.
For despite the pain she’d caused him, Nathan still wanted her with every fibre of his being. Was that not the worst of it? The weakness for her that lived in his blood? No matter her betrayal, he would still take her back if only she’d have him.
Disgusted with himself, Nathan remembered the tall, dark man who’d held her in his arms that night. He remembered how Margaret had smiled up at him. He remembered the way she’d clung to the man’s arm when their eyes had met. He remembered the way the man had drawn her closer, his arm coming around her protectively.
Once upon a time, Nathan had been the one to see to her protection. To see to it that she was well, that she was safe. He’d caught her that time when she’d climbed up the tall tree on the border of their families’ estates, stepped on the hem of her skirts and slipped from the branch. He’d stilled her hand when she’d been about to eat a piece of lemon tart a bee had settled on. He’d dried her tears and made her smile again after her snobbish cousin Martha had told her that a true lady did not climb trees and her parents would be ashamed of her if they knew.
Now, it seemed that all these memories belonged to a different life. Indeed, they’d been different people then. He had been a different man. A better man, he knew, and it pained him to think that her betrayal had not only broken his heart but also changed him into a man he was ashamed to be.
Never had he admitted as much to himself. He’d known, of course. Deep down, he had known. Still, there had never been a reason to change. The effort had never seemed worth it. Neither did it now; however, a mere glimpse of her had made him realise that his life was nothing without her.
And he cursed her for it.
His fingers curled into fists once more, and his jaw tensed in anger, in frustration, in despair. For there was nothing he could do, was there?
All he could do was hold his head high and pray that she would leave London before he lost hold of his sanity.
Or what remained of it.
If only she were to leave…
If only she had never returned…
If only she would stay…
***
Her hands were still trembling when Maggie bid her brother and his wife a good night and finally closed the door to her bedchamber behind her. She did not ring for her maid for she could not bear to have another in the room with her. The thought of idle chitchat almost sent her into hysterics and she sank to the floor at the foot of her bed, her face buried in its soft blanket, muffling the sobs that were torn from her throat.
Despair sliced through her body, cutting it to shreds, as her heart ached with a fierceness she had not known since those first days after receiving the news of Nathan’s betrothal to another.
Oddly enough, Maggie had thought of herself as matured, of having grown beyond her youthful idea of a perfect love and marriage, the kind she’d always envisioned with Nathan. She’d hoped and prayed that seeing him again would free her of said notion. She’d thought that even if seeing him with his wife would break her heart, it would then also ensure that old dream of hers would evaporate into thin air as though it had never been. She’d been certain her heart would release its stubborn hold on the first man she’d ever loved.
The only man she’d ever loved.
Somehow, Maggie had thought that no matter how painful it would be for her to face Nathan after all these years it would result in her liberation.
Now, she knew she had been wrong.
For although her heart felt broken beyond repair, it still yearned for Nathan the same way it always had. It seemed her last hope had come to nothing.
When her body finally quieted, her tears slowly drying on her skin, Maggie remained seated on the floor, her back resting against the bed as her eyes stared into the softly dancing flames in the hearth. Her body felt limp and without strength. The mere thought of rising to her feet almost brought her to tears once more.
And so she remained where she was, oblivious to the world around her until the sound of little feet pierced the haze hanging over her mind.
Blinking, Maggie lifted her head and her gaze fell on her little daughter. Dressed in her nightgown, Blair stood with her blond hair hanging loosely over her shoulders not two paces from where Maggie sat on the floor. Her feet were bare and her warm blue eyes shone with such compassion that Maggie wished her little girl would hold her and tell her all would be well.
Always had little Blair seemed to possess wisdom beyond her years.
It was her gift.
“What are ye doing here?” Maggie finally asked, managing to lift her limp hand and brush the last tears from her eyes. “Ye should be abed, mo chridhe.”
Sighing, Blair sank down onto the floor beside her mother, her legs crossed and her hands reaching for Maggie’s. “Ye’re sad,” she observed, and Maggie could not help but feel that those wide blue eyes were looking to the very depth of her soul. “Did ye see him tonight?”
Maggie swallowed, and her hands grew cold despite her daughter’s warmth. “Who?”
Blair smiled at her rather indulgently. “The man with the spot behind his right ear.” Her head cocked sideways. “Did ye not see him? I was certain ye had.”
Staring at her daughter, Maggie felt her hands begin to tremble anew. “How d’ye know of him, mo chridhe?” she whispered almost breathless.
“I saw him,” Blair replied gently, and Maggie didn’t need to ask where for she knew the look in her daughter’s eyes. It whispered of a knowledge she should not have, one that had found her in the night. “I saw him in a moment long ago.” Blair sighed, and a deep sadness lingered in the way her chest rose and fell. “He was sad, too. He still is.” Her hands tightened on her mother’s, an offer of comfort and an urging to have courage. “Ye need to speak to him.”
Maggie almost shrank back at her daughter’s gently-spoken words, her body feeling beaten and battered after only a mere glimpse of the man who still held her heart. “I dunna think−”
“Ye must!” Blair insisted, her eyes imploring as they held Maggie’s. “A lie stands between ye.”
Bowing her head, Maggie nodded. “I know, mo chridhe. I know.” She’d believed the promise that had lingered in his kiss that day and she’d allowed herself to hope. But it had been a lie. He’d lied to her, and she had paid dearly for it.
Tucking her daughter’s silken strands behind her ears, Maggie brushed a soft kiss onto her forehead. “‘Tis late, little Blair. Ye should be abed.” Doing her best to smile, she nodded to her deeply empathetic child. “Go on. I’ll be fine, and I shall see ye in the morning.”
A soft crinkle came to her daughter’s forehead, and Maggie knew that there was doubt in her child’s mind about whether or not she spoke the truth. Nevertheless, Blair rose to her feet, her little hand brushing over her mother’s cheek, no doubt feeling the wetness of the tears she’d shed not long ago. “Ye needna be afraid. He cares for ye still.”
Staring at her daughter, Maggie watched her all but dance from the room like a fairy whose wings now carried her back to the magical realm she’d come from, a shimmering glow lingering on her golden tresses. And then the door closed behind her, and Maggie wondered if she’d only dreamt her daughter’s visit.
Her words
.
Her advice.
He cares for ye still.
Closing her eyes, Maggie buried her face in her hands as her traitorous heart reminded her of what had once been. She felt like a young girl again, hopeful and trusting, and a part of her could not help but hold on to the words Blair had whispered.
He cares for ye still.
“I care for him as well,” Maggie finally admitted into the stillness of the night, and her heart pounded in her chest as her eyes closed in defeat. “Heaven help me, but I love him still.”
Chapter Nine
Husband & Wife
Standing on the edge of the ballroom, Nathan stared at the dancing couples before him, his eyes all but searching, hunting for that glimpse of red that had knocked the air from his lungs only a sennight ago. At first, he’d been resolved to abstain from London’s entertainments for the duration of her visit, dreading the pain the sight of her had caused. And yet, he’d ventured out each and every night since, attending balls and soirees like a moth drawn to the flame.
He could not stay away.
Heaven help him, but he could not.
Apparently, though, she could.
Not once since that night had Nathan laid eyes on her, and he had begun to wonder if perhaps she’d already returned to Scotland; if perhaps some decency had remained between them and she’d realised that she ought not be here.
Relief and regret flooded Nathan at the thought as he felt torn between longing and the desire to avoid the pain he knew only too well.
“Good evening, my lord.” Moving to stand beside him, Lady Cranshaw cast him a seductive glance, her lips slightly pouted as they often were, reminding him that he’d never liked the games she played.
“Good evening, my lady,” Nathan replied, not knowing what else there was to say. Never had they spoken much, and he knew little more about her than the cornerstones of her life.
His lack of enthusiasm had to have been apparent for her gaze narrowed, betraying her disappointment with his reaction. Still, the woman was not easily deterred. A heartbeat later, she sidled closer, the knuckles of her fingers brushing against the back of his hand as though by accident. “I’ve missed you, my lord.”
Her whispered words struck him to the bone for his mind easily imagined another voice whispering those same words. He remembered how Margaret had often teased him by addressing him in such a formal manner when she’d been cross with him or wanted him to pay attention. She’d always found a reason, and he’d learnt that whenever she would call him that, something had stirred in her heart.
Glancing around the large room filled to the rim, Nathan sighed, knowing that the ghost of his past had vanished quicker than she had appeared, once more leaving him alone to wallow in the loss of her presence. She was gone, for good, and he had to accept that.
Determined to reclaim what was left of his life, Nathan turned to look upon the lady by his side. She was beautiful and kind. She appreciated his company, desired his body and knew how to make him forget. At least, for a moment.
But she was not Margaret.
No one was.
Nathan had always known that. He’d always known that he’d never find another like her. He had to accept that and move on. And he would for if he were to refuse Lady Cranshaw’s offer, what would he be left with?
The answer was utterly crippling.
Nothing.
No more and no less.
Simply nothing.
And so he offered Lady Cranshaw his arm, who took it with a smile that whispered of the pleasure they would soon find in each other’s arms.
Escaping outside into the soft evening air, fresh and freeing, Nathan guided their feet down the small gravel path that led deeper into the gardens. Shadows clung to their surroundings as the sun dipped lower, now almost lost to the world. Only a mild glow remained, a last glimmer before it would bid the day farewell.
“You’ve been distant this past sennight,” Lady Cranshaw commented as they walked, the tone in her voice implying her irritation at his odd behaviour.
“Is that so?” Nathan asked, in no mood to discuss his state of mind with her. The mere thought of Margaret still felt crippling, and he had no wish to pour out his heart to a woman he would never consider a confidante.
Lady Cranshaw chuckled and slipped her arm through the crook of his, pushing closer against him. “Perhaps it was my imagination,” she whispered then, the look in her eyes teasing.
Nathan was surprised that she was ready to drop the subject so quickly, but relieved nonetheless. “As far as I remember there’s a small pavilion in the very centre of this maze,” he remarked as his gaze moved over the dark hedges lining the path. Oddly enough, he did not feel comfortable looking at the lady currently clinging to his arm. He’d thought himself in need of a distraction, and yet, a part of him argued against it, using guilt and shame to deter him from this path. But why on earth ought he feel guilty for seeking the company of another when it had been Margaret who’d done so first? He owed her no loyalty, no consideration. He was a free man, at liberty to do as he pleased.
Nathan sighed. Then why couldn’t he help but feel that each step that took him away from Margaret and closer to Lady Cranshaw was a step in the wrong direction? Was wrong in itself? It was not as though he could choose differently. Margaret had chosen for the both of them long ago.
Still, thoughts of her lingered, forcing him to see that no matter the pleasure he’d found in Lady Cranshaw’s company before, now he simply did not want it. “Perhaps we should return to the house,” he mumbled, disgusted with himself for his inability to move ahead as planned. “The night air is quite chilled. I’m afraid you’ll catch a cold.”
Smiling up at him, Lady Cranshaw pulled him along. “Oh, don’t you worry. I’m perfectly fine, but I’ll thank you for your concern.” Her teeth tugged on her lower lip. “I promise I will,” she whispered seductively, grasping his hand and urging him along.
Nathan could have groaned, feeling tugged into different directions. “Listen, I…,” he began as he stumbled after her.
Laughing, Lady Cranshaw all but dragged him onward, unaware of his inner turmoil, and around the last corner. The pavilion came into view, its marble columns shining in the dimming light. A soft flowery scent hung in the air, and the darkened hedges stood like walls around them, shrouding them from prying eyes.
It was the perfect setting for an intimate encounter, and yet, every fibre of Nathan’s being all but baulked against the thought of holding another in his arms. All his thoughts lingered on Margaret and what they’d had long ago. How could he−?
The sound of rustling skirts followed by a soft gasp drifted to his ears, and Nathan’s head jerked upward. His gaze shot past Lady Cranshaw and snapped to the pavilion where a lone figure rose from the marble bench situated at its back.
Wide, blue eyes met his−even though it was by far too dark to tell, he knew them to be the most unique blue he’d ever seen−and Nathan felt himself still, shock echoing through his being. “Margaret,” he breathed, and his heart skipped a beat…and then another.
Spinning around, Lady Cranshaw gasped as well, her hands flying to her chest as she beheld the woman standing in the pavilion. Her gaze widened, and she immediately shrank back into the shadows at her back. Quite obviously, having a secret lover was something quite different from parading him around for all to see. With a last glance at him, she spun around and rushed off.
Nathan barely noticed.
All he saw in that moment was Margaret, her fiery red hair tugged up and glimmering in the soft orange glow of the setting sun. Her eyes were wide and perfectly matched the gentle blue of her gown. She stood absolutely still, her eyes locked on his, her chest moving up and down faster than he would have expected. A slight blush rested on her otherwise pale cheeks.
Time seemed to still as they looked into one another’s eyes, and Nathan felt the old bond reawaken. It was like a strange pull, tugging him forward and toward her. S
till, the moment he moved, Margaret all but flinched, alarm coming to her eyes. She took a step backwards, her hands clasped together. “What are ye doing here?”
Undeterred, Nathan climbed the few steps of the pavilion, his gaze not veering from the woman he’d once again thought lost to him. “You sound different now, Margaret,” he observed, his voice an odd croak he barely recognised as his own. Still, her name on his tongue brought back an old longing.
Clearing her throat, she inhaled a shuddering breath and took another step backwards. “I’m a Scot now,” she told him, a hint of defiance in her gaze. “And ‘tis Maggie.”
“Maggie,” Nathan mumbled, still feeling as though he’d strayed into a dream. “Are you truly here?” Shaking his head ever so slightly, he ran his eyes over her, wondering if this was no more than a mirage after all, about to drift away on the balmy evening breeze at any moment.
A small shiver shook her before her lips thinned and she fixed him with a narrowed glare. “Ye should leave before yer wife notices yer absence.” Her gaze moved past him and to the path in his back. “I assume the lady ye were with is not her or there would’ve been no need for her to flee.” She crossed her arms over her chest, a look of deepest disapproval in her eyes.
Nathan barely heard a word she was saying so caught up was he in the sight of her. Yes, her voice sounded odd with that Scottish accent of hers, but it was still Margaret. The look in her eyes. The way she lifted her chin. The scent that was uniquely hers.
She was so close he could almost touch her. All he needed to do was reach out and…
Nathan’s head spun. His blood urged him on while his head whispered one warning after another, and he knew not what to do.
Her jaw tensed, and she gave a disapproving snort. “I shouldna be surprised ye conduct yerself in this manner,” she chided, a hint of disdain in her voice. “I’ve heard of the man ye’ve become.”
Always had Margaret had faith in him. No matter the foolish things he’d done, she’d chided him, yes, but she’d never stopped believing in him. Still, the Margaret who looked at him now was not the one he remembered. She was looking at him with such distaste that Nathan felt his stomach twist and turn. His hands balled into fists at the sight of her reproach. How dare she look at him in such a manner after the way she’d betrayed him? She’d run off to marry another without a word. She’d not even had the decency of writing to him to inform him of her change of heart.