Love Me Always

by Marie Higgins

  He laughed. “We have only just started."

  Shadows danced across her expression, making it hard to read her thoughts. “No.” She stepped back. “We must not do this anymore. This is the very reason I came to talk to you.”

  He sighed. “Then tell me what you came to say.”

  “Nick, we cannot see each other any longer. I don’t want you to look at me the way you’ve been doing, and you must never, ever kiss me.”

  He shook his head. Although she spoke the truth, he wouldn’t be able to bear the distance. “Kitty, my sweet.” He stroked her cheek. “You know it could never happen. We belong together.”

  “Oh, Nick.” A sob tore through her throat. “If we belong together, then convince your uncle of that because he is more determined now than ever to marry me. I tried to break off our engagement tonight, but he won’t allow it. There’s nothing I can do. I must marry him.”

  Pain gripped his heart, and as much as he wanted to argue with her – promise her that he would stop this insanity – he knew he couldn’t.

  “Nick, do me a favor, please.”

  “Depends on what you ask.”

  “Don’t ever kiss me again. Tomorrow your uncle will announce the engagement. Being with you like this will be forbidden.” Her voice choked with sobs as she turned and ran back toward the house.

  Bunching his hands, he grumbled loudly and looked up at the sky. “Lord, why are you doing this to me?” he accused. “Can you not see she doesn’t love my uncle? Why can’t you see she and I are meant to be together instead?”

  A rumble passed through the clouds, warning him of a storm coming. Or was this God’s way of answering him? Either way, Nick did not like the outcome at all.

  How could he bear to watch her marry his uncle? There was only one way. He had to leave tonight and never return.

  * * * *

  Loud voices woke Catherine. She sat up with a start, her heartbeat quickening. Voices raised in panic floated from down the hall. She slid out of bed and grabbed her wrapper, slipping into it as she rushed to the door. Before she reached the knob, the door flew open and Emily hurried in, her face void of color.

  “Emily? What’s amiss?” Catherine grasped her maid’s cold and shaky hands.

  The girl’s eyes were wide. “There was an accident... He could have died,” she muttered.

  “Emily.” Catherine squeezed her maid’s hands. “Tell me what happened. Who could have died?”

  Her lips trembled. “Mr. Fielding…Nicholas.”

  Fear gripped Catherine’s heart, lodging a knot in her throat.

  Emily nodded. “Late last night he packed and left. He’d planned to stay at his office in town, but there was an accident.”

  Suffocation overwhelmed Catherine, making it harder to breathe. “What happened?”

  “His carriage lost a wheel in the storm. The vehicle plunged down a muddy hillside and Nicholas was thrown.”

  Catherine sucked in a quick gasp of air. “Oh, Lord, no!” Tears swam in her eyes. “Is...is he all right?”

  Emily twisted her hands against her stomach. “Yes, but—”

  “But what?”

  “The doctor says his arm may be broke and...and...”

  Catherine’s heart knocked painfully against her ribs. “What?”

  “He...he’s been unconscious since he was found and brought here.” She shook her head. “The doctor says if Nicholas doesn’t awaken soon...he may die.”

  Darkness threatened to close off Catherine’s vision, but she fought the urge to swoon. Nicholas needed her. She needed to be by him. To hold his hand. To encourage him not to give up. God, please don’t let him die!

  She swung toward her armoire. Dizziness swelled in her head and she stopped to gain her balance. Why did she feel so strange? There was no time to worry about her sickness, so she fought the fog in her head and on shaky legs made her way toward her closet. “Emily, help me dress. I must see him at once.”

  Although upset, Emily still made certain Catherine looked presentable when she left the room not more than thirty minutes later. Catherine almost ran to Nick’s room, but was stopped by Gregg and Ian who paced the hall outside the door.

  “The doctor is still with Nick,” Gregg told her.

  She blinked back the tears. “How is he...really?”

  Ian shook his head. “It doesn’t look good.”

  “What happened?” She flipped her hands in the air. “I know the wheel came off, but how? Was it possible the groom was careless?”

  Gregg shrugged. “The constable is looking into the matter as we speak. He agrees that the wheel shouldn’t have just come off. He thinks it was tampered with.”

  She gasped, her hand flying to her throat. “Who would do such a thing?”

  “Nobody knows.” Gregg scrubbed his hand over his chin.

  She glanced up the hall then back to Gregg. “Where’s your uncle? Is he inside with Nick and the doctor?”

  “No,” Ian answered instead. “He’s had another attack. We think it was the news of Nick’s accident that gave Uncle Grant another relapse. I fear for his recovery as well.”

  “Hobbs,” Gregg continued, “said Uncle Grant was fine when he went to bed, but early this morning he was found disoriented and breathing ragged.”

  “Oh, Lord, no.” She covered her face with her hands, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  Warmth enveloped her when a man’s body pressed against her and wrapped her in his solid arms. She recognized Gregg’s scent of spice. Resting her head on his shoulder, she gave into his offer of comfort and slid her arms around his waist. Across her forehead, his gentle lips brushed her skin and his embrace tightened.

  “All will be well, Catherine. I know it,” he whispered in a deep voice almost too foreign.

  She glanced up and met his gaze. Dark eyes. A familiar look. Oh, please no! She couldn’t handle his infatuation with her, too. Hopefully, she was mistaken.

  Pulling away, she wiped the moisture on her cheeks and sniffed. “I heard Nick was leaving to go stay at his office in town. Do you know why?”

  As quickly as it came, Gregg’s warm expression disappeared. Sadness dimmed the color of his eyes again. “No, but it’s not out of character for him to do that.”

  Ian walked up to her and patted her shoulder. “Why don’t you go downstairs and have breakfast. Mrs. Berkley and Aunt Gertrude are there right now. I’m certain they’ll want your company.”

  She nodded. “Please let me know if there is any change.”

  “We will,” Gregg promised.

  Taking slow steps she made her way down the stairs to the dining room, her heart heavy with emotion. She couldn’t lose Nick. Of course, by marrying Grant she would have lost the one man she’d ever loved, but that was preferable to his death.

  Neither woman acted overjoyed to see her. Catherine felt that Mrs. Berkley still harbored bad feelings toward her because Catherine never asked for her companionship any longer. Truth be told, the only company she wanted was Nick’s.

  Gertrude pushed away from the table and wandered to the window. Outside the clouds were dark. Off in the distance thunder rumbled. Tree limbs bent as the wind rushed through them. Against the window, the light sprinkle of rain tapped in rhythm.

  “Today’s gloomy weather certainly fits. Don’t you agree, Catherine,” the older woman asked.

  “Indeed, I do.”

  Gertrude glanced over her shoulder at Catherine and smiled. “Well, we mustn’t give up hope that our loved-ones will recover from the incidents that have happened today.” Her voice cracked as tears gathered in her eyes.

  Catherine stood and hurried to the older woman, giving her a hug. “We must pray they will have a quick recovery.”

  The older woman’s lower lips trembled, and she nodded.

  “Praying is a very good thing at a time like this.” Catherine’s father’s loud voice bounced off the walls.

  Catherine jumped and turned toward him. He held a Bible in his han
ds, reminding her of how her grandfather looked when preaching his sermons. Inwardly, she groaned. Obviously, her father hadn’t honored her request to leave yesterday afternoon after all. How could she make him leave now when Grant and Nick lay on their deathbeds?

  “Father, have you been to see them?”

  He held a stern expression. His eyes didn’t give her any hint of his thoughts, neither did the straight line of his mouth.

  “Yes. I have offered a prayer for both.”

  She left Gertrude’s side and walked on shaky legs toward her father. “How are they?”

  “Still the same. Grant is resting, but his breathing is shallow. Nicholas continues to show no signs of consciousness.”

  Fear clutched her chest, making it difficult to breathe. Tears stung her eyes, and she clasped her shaky hands together in attempt to hold them still. She stopped near a chair just in case her legs failed to hold her.

  Her father must have seen through to her heart, or at least read her mind. By the arch of his bushy eyebrows and narrowed eyes, she figured he must know what emotions ran rapidly inside her. At this moment, she didn’t care if he knew. She didn’t care if everyone knew.

  “All we can do right now is pray,” he said in a solemn tone.

  The next hour crept by. Gregg and Ian stayed with Nick or Grant, and they wouldn’t allow her to go into the room. Her father watched her with judgmental eyes and made certain she didn’t leave his side. It seemed she couldn’t please him...not since her mother died anyway. For being raised by a man of God who preached about forgiving and forgetting, her father certainly wasn’t practicing these teachings.

  Finally, Catherine could stand no more. Sewing on her sampler began to gnaw at her nerves and didn’t help her patience at all. Her father read out of the good book while they sat in the parlor, but reading only managed to make Gertrude and Mrs. Berkley fall asleep. Catherine’s eyelids drooped, also, so she excused herself to go up to her room.

  Once she reached the stairs, heavy footsteps thudded on the floor behind her. She glanced over her shoulder to see her father, his angry eyes glaring right through her.

  “I would like to have a word with you,” he said in a low voice.

  “Actually, Father...you never have just one word. It’s more like several.”

  He grasped her arm and pulled her into the library, then closed the door behind him. His nostrils flared. His eyes darkened.

  Sucking in a breath, she clenched her hands. “What is it, Father?”

  “I would like to know why you loosened the carriage wheel on Nicholas’ vehicle.”

  She gasped and stumbled backward. “I beg your pardon! How could you think I’d so something so cruel?”

  “I saw you leave the house last night. I saw you go toward the carriages.”

  Her heart dropped. True, she went toward the carriages, but then ended up at the gazebo when she was looking for Nick. What else had he seen? “So you assume I tried to kill Nick?”

  In two strides, he stood before her. His heated gaze nearly scorched her.

  “I cannot fathom why you would want to kill your lover, other than you’re demented.”

  She swung her hand to slap his face, but he caught it before it hit its mark.

  “How dare you insinuate...” she seethed.

  “My dear daughter, your actions speak louder than your words. Since coming to say at this estate, you’ve turned into a jezebel.”

  Tears filled her eyes, her heart crumbling with each beat. Although he was so wrong about her character, in her heart she knew she’d betrayed Grant in the worst way. “And this is my fault? Have you forgotten who wanted me to come here?”

  “Your mother and I wanted you to marry Grant.”

  “Exactly...which is why I’m still here.”

  “Yet you have been carrying on behind Grant’s back with Nicholas.”

  A tear slipped down her cheek. “If that’s the case, why would you accuse me of trying to kill him? Nothing you say makes sense, Father. If I’m having an affair – as you think I am – why would I want to kill the man I love?”

  He huffed and raked his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know. But you’re showing the signs...”

  She blinked. “Signs? What signs?”

  “Of insanity.”

  “How? I still don’t understand.”

  He growled and spun around, marching toward the window. “Your mother was on the brink of insanity right before she was killed. Now you’re displaying the same signs.”

  Confusion clouded her mind and she wiped her wet cheeks. “Father, I wish I knew what you were talking about. Nothing was wrong with Mother. I believe you created these so-called signs because you were the only person to see them. Mother was a normal person!”

  “You couldn’t see it. You didn’t know what to look for. I do. Your mother did, too.” He turned his glare on her. “First there was the incident with Gregg’s saddle. I believe you were the one to cut it. Then when the twin swords fell from the wall, nearly landing on Ian. The nails had been pulled from the wall. And now this with Grant and Nick.” He shook his head. “I will need to watch you closely before another so-called accident happens.”

  She clutched the sides of her head, a scream ready to burst from her chest. Instead, she breathed slower, trying to calm the raging inferno inside her. “No, Father. Once again, you are wrong. I did not create those accidents. I love the Fieldings like my own family. More, in fact. Why would I want them hurt? Father, you can believe what you want, but I know, I’m not insane!”

  She hurried out and ran up the stairs to her room. After slamming the door, she leaned against it and closed her eyes. Tears dripped down her face and her chest ached with sobs that begged for a release. But she wouldn’t. Her father didn’t deserve the energy crying would take from her.

  Deep in her heart, she knew he was wrong. The confusion swimming in her head was because of him; not the dreaded disease her mother may have had.

  * * * *

  Catherine lifted her head from the pillow and peered toward the window through half-closed eyes. Darkness had covered the land as she’d slept the day away. Her father’s accusations and the confusion lodged in her chest had drained her of everything.

  She scooted to the side of the bed and sat on the edge. A tray of food sat upon her nightstand, probably cold by now. Rubbing her eyes, she yawned then stretched her arms over her head. She moved to the washstand and splashed water on her face, hoping to revive herself. It helped only slightly.

  As she moved around her room turning up the lamps, a light tap came upon the door. She jumped, her breathing quickening. It had better not be her father...

  “Who is it?”

  “Catherine, it’s me, Gregg.”

  Her heart pounded in a painful rhythm. Had he come to give her bad news about Nick? On shaky legs, she walked to the door and opened it. Only a few lamps were lit in the hallway, casting shadows everywhere. Gregg looked so much like Nick right now – his angular jaw, dark hair and fine physique. A lump rose to her throat, almost cutting off the air.

  “Wha...what’s wrong?” Her voice cracked. “Is it Nick? Grant?”

  He shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair. “There’s still no change.” His gaze locked with hers. “I...I needed someone to talk to other than Ian. May I come in?”

  Although it wasn’t proper, and Mrs. Berkley would give her a good scolding if she discovered Catherine had let not one – but two – men into her room, she opened the door and motioned for him to enter. The sad, lonely expression on his drawn face made her want to help; made her want to be the one to comfort him as he’d always done when they were younger.

  He sat on the sofa and patted the empty space next to him. “Join me?”

  As she stepped to the piece of furniture, the door softly clicked closed behind her. He looked at her differently now. No longer did he have the solemn glaze to his eyes. His lips were not pulled in a tight line, but relaxed and turned up
slightly at the corners. By the fierce rhythm of her heart and moist palms, she knew she should tell him to leave.

  When she reached his side, he grasped her hand and pulled her next to him. She hitched a breath and landed on the sofa, her leg brushing his. Gregg kept her hand in his, even adjusted it and entwined their fingers. Unease settled in her stomach. This was wrong. She didn’t have those kinds of feelings for him. Obviously, he didn’t feel the same.

  “Gregg, I don’t think...”

  “Catherine, I appreciate your friendship right now. If you weren’t here during this time, I don’t know what I’d do.”

  She creased her forehead. Could she have read him wrong? Perhaps his intentions were proper after all. She swallowed the lump of fear forming in her throat and tried her best to smile.

  “Although I wish your family didn’t have to go through this, I’m happy to be here with you, too. During times like these we need people we love around us.”

  He nodded and squeezed her hand. “My thoughts exactly.”

  “Has—” Her throat squeaked and she cleared it. “Has the doctor said any more about Nick?”

  “No. Just that time will tell.” He shrugged. “Nick sustained a serious head injury when he was thrown from the vehicle.”

  Tears stung her eyes. It was her fault he’d been leaving. If only she hadn’t told him to never see her again… If only she could have broken the engagement...

  “Catherine.” Gregg cupped the side of her face, his thumb stroking her cheek. “He will be all right. He’s strong and will survive.”

  “But what about Grant? Your uncle isn’t as strong, and you know as well as I this might be the very thing that takes his life.”

  “Uncle Grant is not going to die until he knows Nick is all right.”

  She gave him a smile. “You sound so positive.”

  “I am about this.” He cupped her chin. “And you must be also. You must believe in everything good. Don’t focus on the bad.”

  “You don’t know how hard that is, especially when my father has made it difficult for me to find my own pleasant thoughts.”

  He pulled her against him, his arms tightening around her shoulders in a hug. For a moment, she wanted to forget these ridiculous ideas that Gregg might be infatuated with her and let him comfort her. But the moment she allowed her shoulders to relax, his hands caressed her back.