‘Yes, but it’s true! And I didn’t mean it in a bad way.’ She put her hands on her hips, annoyed by the fearsome way he was glaring at her. ‘And you said you’d be in the library!’
‘I thought you might need some help.’
‘To do what? I told you I wanted to talk to Gilbert by myself.’
‘It didn’t look much like talking.’ His tone turned accusing.
‘Because he was so understanding. I’ve treated him shabbily, but he forgave me at once.’
‘No wonder when you had your arms wrapped around him.’
‘Cassius!’ She tipped her head to one side and peered closer. ‘Are you jealous?’
‘Are you surprised?’
‘You are jealous!’
He folded his arms again. ‘I just entered my own drawing room to find my wife in the embrace of another man, the man she was thinking of marrying when we met, to be exact! I believe jealousy is an understandable response.’
‘But you know I didn’t want to marry him!’
‘Do I? Because your actions today would seem to suggest otherwise.’
‘Just because I hugged him?’ She gave an incredulous laugh. ‘Now you’re being ridiculous as well as overreacting. I told you from the start that he’s more like a brother to me. I could never think of him in the same way I think of you.’
‘Never?’ Blue eyes narrowed intently. ‘You’re certain?’
‘Positive.’ She slid her hands up over his shoulders, silencing any further protests with her lips.
‘There’s no need to be jealous.’ She pulled away again after a few moments. ‘Not even a tiny bit.’
His expression wavered and then relented finally. ‘No regrets, then?’
‘None at all. I’m happy. Which you would have heard me tell Gilbert if you’d only arrived a few seconds sooner. That and I hoped he might be as happy as I am, too, some day.’
She pressed her lips back to his with a smile. It was on the very tip of her tongue to mention love, but something stopped her. The realisation of how she felt was still new to her and it was so soon after their marriage. Besides, what if he didn’t want her to say it? Despite their newfound intimacy they hadn’t talked about their feelings at all. According to him, he wasn’t even capable of love, even if he was clearly capable of jealousy. An unwanted declaration could ruin everything. Worse, it might make him feel uncomfortable around her. No, they were happy as they were. Surely that was enough?
‘All right.’ He looked appeased and mildly shame-faced. ‘Then I admit I was a little jealous. You never told me how good looking he was.’
‘Oh, yes, he’s very handsome.’ She couldn’t resist a mischievous smile. ‘Didn’t I mention that?’
‘No.’ His eyes narrowed again. ‘You didn’t.’
‘Half the girls in his parish are besotted. They’ll be pleased to hear he’s eligible again.’
‘Indeed.’
‘Lottie says he looks like a neat-looking Byron. She thinks someone ought to ruffle him up some day.’
‘Just as long as that someone isn’t you.’
‘Oh, it won’t be. I was never a great admirer of Byron.’
He gave her a suspicious look. ‘Who do you admire, then?’
‘Are there any tortured blond poets?’ She looped her arms around his waist and placed her cheek to his chest. ‘One of those, definitely.’
Chapter Nineteen
There was a sound of shouting. Of metal and gunfire, too, interspersed with shrieks and epithets.
Cassius felt a weight pressing down on his chest, so heavy that it was becoming difficult to breathe. There was a pain in his stomach, too, he realised, a searing, burning sensation as if his insides were being torn apart. Even his heartbeat was painful, thudding like a drum against his ribcage though the sound was drowned out by the tumult all around him. He looked down and saw a red patch on his skin, a bright crimson stain that seemed to get bigger and bigger as he watched, spreading across his stomach like a puddle. It was only then that he noticed the tear in his flesh, the jagged cut slicing all the way across his torso.
A wave of panic crashed over him, accompanied by a jolt of surprise. This was new, not how the dream usually went, yet it felt more real and terrifying than ever. His whole body was drenched in sweat and blood and he was shaking as if he were red hot and icy cold at the same time.
‘Cassius!’ A hand touched his shoulder.
‘No!’ He lurched forward, sitting bolt upright and clamping a hand to his stomach as he looked around the room. It was dark and mercifully silent. The pain and the blood were gone, as was the jagged cut, but the sweat and panic were still there. ‘Millie?’
‘It’s all right.’ She sat up beside him, her voice soft and soothing. ‘It was a dream.’
‘Millie.’ He repeated her name with a sigh of relief, running his fingers through hair that felt plastered to his head. ‘I’m sorry for waking you.’
‘Don’t be sorry.’ She moved her hand lightly across his shoulder blades. ‘You couldn’t help it. Is there anything I can do?’
‘No.’ His throat felt dry and hoarse. ‘Just be here.’
‘Then I’m here.’ She shuffled closer, placing her chin on his shoulder and wrapping her other arm around his upper body. ‘Were you dreaming about the past?’
He nodded. ‘Was I shouting?’
‘Mumbling. You were moving around a lot, too, clutching your stomach.’
‘I remember.’ He winced as fragments of the dream came back to him. ‘But it was different this time.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘It wasn’t my usual dream. This time I was the one who was wounded. In the past, it’s always been Edward.’
‘Was he there?’
‘I don’t know. I heard shouts, but I didn’t see anyone else.’
She rubbed a hand down his side, over the damp skin. ‘You’re not injured. It’s over now.’
‘You don’t understand.’ He twisted to face her. ‘In all the other dreams I wanted it to be me who was injured. I wanted the pain. I should have been pleased that it was me this time, but I wasn’t. I changed my mind. I wanted to live.’
‘But isn’t that a good thing?’
‘Not at the expense of Edward.’ He shook his head vehemently.
‘Cassius.’ Her voice was soft and tender. ‘Just because you want to live now doesn’t mean you wanted him to suffer.’
‘Doesn’t it?’
‘No.’ She reached up and cradled his face between her hands. ‘What happened to Edward was a tragedy, but it wasn’t your fault. You were under attack and Edward chose to save you. Neither of you could have known what the consequences would be, but you need to stop punishing yourself for surviving.’
‘Is that what you think I’m doing?’
‘Maybe.’ She slid her fingers up into his hair. ‘It’s not a criticism. I know that you can’t just stop feeling guilty, but you don’t have to suffer like this for ever. If the situation had been reversed and you’d saved Edward, what would you tell him to do now?’
‘To get on with his life. I know. I want to, but...’
‘It doesn’t make you ungrateful or mean that you’ve forgotten him if you do.’
He dragged in a breath and lay down again, pulling her with him. ‘I remember what you said about wounds that can’t be seen and how they need time to heal, too. This whole past year it’s felt like mine’s been festering. Then you came along, cleaned the wound out and changed all the bandages. I’m tired of living in the past, but it feels wrong to want a future when Edward and Magnus don’t have one. Everything I have now is because of them.’
‘Not everything.’ She laid a hand gently on his chest. ‘But it’s not wrong. It’s natural to want to move on. Maybe this is your mind trying to tell you that.’
He stared at the ceiling, thinking over his own words. He did want a future. More specifically, he wanted a future with her. He wanted to let go of the past and feel something other than guilt and regret. He wanted to live, to love, to... The last idea stopped him in his tracks. He wanted to do what?
‘Cassius?’ Millie lifted her head. ‘Your heart is racing.’
‘It’s nothing.’ He drew her down again. ‘Try to get back to sleep.’
‘Just remember you’re not alone. I’m here if you need me.’
‘I know.’ He pressed a kiss on to the top of her head and wrapped his arm tight around her. She was right, he wasn’t alone any more. The realisation buoyed his spirits, making him feel almost optimistic again. Millie was with him, beside him, half on top of him, in fact, her auburn hair spilling across his chest like a silken blanket. He hadn’t exaggerated. Meeting her had changed everything. How was it possible that his heart could have healed itself in so short a time? And yet somehow, amazingly, it had.
He closed his eyes though he didn’t sleep, waiting until her breathing had steadied before rolling her gently to one side and then climbing out of bed. With his eyes accustomed to the darkness, he retrieved his clothing and pulled it on, closing the door to the bedroom softly behind him.
The corridors were all swathed in darkness, but he found his way by memory, down the stairs, out of the front door and on to the steps outside. Then he stopped, drawing in deep mouthfuls of air until his lungs felt clean again. There was no hint of dawn yet, but the moon and stars still cast enough light for him to make his way safely down to the lake.
The night-time world was still and soundless, save for the occasional screech of an owl in the distance. It was all so peaceful that it was hard to imagine any other way. Hard to believe, too, that he’d once lived among hundreds of men, amid the tumult and clamour of an army camp, in constant fear for his life, for the lives of his friends, too. Afghanistan and India seemed a long way and a whole lifetime ago, though the memories held as much power as ever.
He stopped and crouched down by the edge of the lake. It looked black as ink, and so smooth that he could see the reflection of the stars above. He’d come here often when he’d first arrived home, before he’d discovered the gatehouse, trying to escape from his dreams. He’d walked and walked until he’d been exhausted, then sat beside the lake, watching his breath emerge in white plumes as it was now. This time, however, he wanted to think about his dream, about what Millie had said about it being his mind’s way of trying to move on. Was it possible?
He picked up a stone and weighed it in his hand. His best friend had been laid beneath a stone, too, a headstone, far away from the home and people he loved, but Millie was right, the Edward he’d known wouldn’t have wanted him to blame himself, or carry the burden of guilt for ever. He would have wanted him to move on.
‘Forgive me.’ He closed his fingers around the rough surface of the stone and then drew his arm back, hurling it out into the middle of the lake. The splash sounded unnaturally loud in the stillness, disturbing a family of swans in the reeds. There was a flurry of movement and then small waves started to appear across the water, spreading outwards until the whole surface seemed to ripple and reverberate. One stone, capable of changing everything.
He put a hand on his knee and pushed himself back to his feet. He didn’t know if his heart was properly healed or not, but he knew what he had to do, what Edward would have wanted him to do. And he had to do it today.
* * *
‘Cassius?’ Millie opened her eyes as a hand touched her cheek. ‘What time is it?’
‘Still early.’ He stroked a lock of hair out of her face. ‘But I have to go. There’s something important I’ve been putting off, but it’s time to stop hiding.’
‘Should I come with you?’ She struggled up on to her elbows, trying to blink her way back to consciousness.
‘No.’ He shook his head, his gaze tender though a small frown puckered his brow. ‘I’ll need to ride hard to get there and back before the ball, but I’ll return in time, I promise.’
‘If you’re sure?’ She tilted her head to one side uncertainly, fighting the urge to rub her fingers across his forehead, to kiss his brow and soothe away the lines.
‘I am. Now try to get back to sleep. You’ve had a disturbed night and you’ll need all your strength for dancing later.’
She flushed at the words. His nightmare had only been the first disturbance of the night. She’d woken up again when he’d slid back into bed some time in the early hours, his face so cold that she’d guessed he’d been outside, though she hadn’t had a chance to ask him as he’d started to kiss her, pulling her into his arms with such urgency that she hadn’t even tried to resist. He’d needed her and she’d given herself to him willingly, surrendering to his touch as his mouth had covered almost every inch of her skin with hot, open-mouthed kisses.
Their coupling had been fierce and yet somehow even more intimate than before. She’d found herself on her side, then on top of him, then beneath him again, their bodies building to a climax together. Afterwards, they’d remained as they were, one of his arms clamping her tightly against his chest. It had been impossible for her to go back to sleep that way, but she hadn’t wanted to wake him again and so she’d just lain there, moving in time with the steady rhythm of his breathing, until he’d finally rolled on to one side and she’d been free.
She’d curled up beside him then, burrowing beneath the blankets with a feeling of intense satisfaction. It still felt strange to be so physically close to someone and yet it hadn’t felt wrong. Instead it had felt as though she were in the right place somehow, the place where she belonged. Which was doubly strange since she’d always thought of the Foundation as that. If Gilbert’s visit had shown her anything, however, it was that she’d made the right decision. She belonged here with Cassius, the man she could no longer deny that she loved even if he couldn’t love her. Perhaps intimacy and friendship would be enough for them to be happy, but what he’d said about his dreams made her feel hopeful, too. If his dreams were changing, then perhaps he was finally coming to terms with his past and finding a way to move on. She wouldn’t ask for more than he could give, but perhaps there was hope for them—for love—after all.
Perhaps.
* * *
Cassius walked along a narrow gravel path to the front door of the cottage, lifted the knocker and then let it fall before he could change his mind. It was a pretty house, two floors of red brick elaborately draped in ivy, with a winter-flowering clematis trailing over the porch, just the way Edward had described it to him during those last few days when his mind had been wandering back to England and the woman he loved. He hadn’t understood the depth of his friend’s emotion at the time, but now... Now, to his shame, he understood his visit was a long time overdue.
‘Oh!’ The maid who opened the door looked taken aback to find a gentleman on the doorstep.
‘Good morning.’ Cassius removed his hat. ‘I’d like to speak with Miss Barrow if she’s at home, please?’
‘Yes, sir.’ The maid appeared too flustered to go and check whether her mistress was at home or not, showing him straight through to a cosy-looking parlour.
‘I’ll go and fetch her.’
‘Thank you.’
He waited by the fireplace, studying a collection of small porcelain ornaments on the mantelpiece. Pastoral figurines mostly, milkmaids and shepherdesses and even a couple of wood nymphs. He frowned, wondering if Edward had ever stood in this same spot, looking at these same figures...
‘Can I help you?’ A soft voice jolted him back to the present. He turned around to see two women standing in the doorway, one young and slender with wavy chestnut hair swept up into a chignon, the other an older, slightly less slender copy. Mother and daughter, he presumed.
‘Forgive my intrusion.’ He bowed. ‘My name is Cassius Whitlock
. Do I have the honour of speaking to Miss Lucy Barrow?’
‘Whitlock?’ The younger woman’s face blanched as he spoke, one hand reaching out to steady herself on the doorframe.
‘Forgive me.’ Cassius hurried forward, though fortunately she regained her balance quickly. ‘I didn’t mean to startle you. I should have sent word ahead, but to be honest, I didn’t know I was coming myself until a few hours ago.’
‘It’s all right. You’re very welcome here.’ She turned to the older woman with a strained-looking smile. ‘Mama, if you don’t mind, I’d like a few minutes alone with Lord Falconmore.’
‘Are you sure?’ The other woman cast a wary glance in his direction. ‘Perhaps I ought to stay as chaperon?’
‘Under normal circumstances I would agree, but these aren’t normal circumstances. Please, Mama.’
‘You know who I am.’ Cassius lifted an eyebrow as the mother departed, grumbling.
‘Oh, yes. Falconmore Hall isn’t so far away. We heard what happened to your cousin and then when you came back...well, I recognised your name.’ She gestured towards a chair. ‘Please, won’t you sit?’
‘Thank you.’ He waited until she took a seat herself before doing the same. ‘You’re right, it isn’t far, though I’m afraid that makes my behaviour even worse.’
‘How so?’
‘In not visiting you until now.’
Her hands twitched and then wound themselves into the folds of her skirts. ‘You sent me a very kind letter.’
‘It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t worthy of Edward either. A true friend would have come in person. Only I didn’t know what to say. I felt so guilty.’ He ran a hand around the back of his neck. ‘I tried to think up a speech during the ride over here, but no words seemed good enough. You already know what happened to Edward. I wouldn’t blame you for resenting me, hating me even. All I can say is that I’m sorry. He was my best friend in the world and I would have died to protect him, but he did it for me instead. He was a brave, good, honourable man and his last words and thoughts were of you. I know because I sat by his bedside and listened. Never doubt how much he loved you, Miss Barrow, because he did, very much. He survived longer than the doctors thought possible because he was so determined to come back to you. I wish I could have saved him the way he saved me.’ His voice cracked and he clenched his jaw, staring at the floor while he tried to regain control.
Miss Amelia's Mistletoe Marquess Page 18