I missed you last night. I realize how dark it is without you by my side. You are my light by which I navigate my day. But lately the days and nights are becoming one as the line between hopes and dreams and reality is erased.
The page once again became a ball in his fist.
“Now do you believe me?” Brandi had been watching from the doorway, her shoulder resting on the frame. She sauntered across the room to stand behind him.
With calculated intent, her nails scratched a rhythmic, soothing motion along his back. “Let her go, Bryce. You need someone who appreciates you, someone who loves the same things you do. Someone who is loyal.”
“And you’re that loyal one?” he hissed. “You, who was so anxious to fuck your best friend’s husband?”
Her hands froze and her voice turned icy. “I didn’t hear you complaining when you were slamming into me.” She shrugged. “Whatever. Like I’ve been trying to tell you, we’re perfect for each other. We need each other.”
His fisted hands ground into the desk. “Why are you doing this to us?” The words were low in his chest, the growl of a caged animal.
“You’ll thank me for it later, Bryce.” Her hand slid down to grab his ass before she turned and left. “She never deserved you.”
≈
“…the eyes are windows to the soul…an inner feeling beyond dispute that they know each other and have known each other across space and time, and so they come together, tossing aside social rules and propriety, all manners of custom, just to rejoin…”
“When twin flames are apart in this physical plane, there is a feeling of loneliness, incompleteness. Your twin flame makes you feel whole again, like coming home.”
“Let’s leave.”
Eryn looked up from the book she found at a second hand store, Twin Souls – Life Beyond Life. She stared at Bryce, wondering if she heard him right.
“Now. Tonight,” he said.
“Where? And why?”
“Do we need a reason to get away together?” He raked his fingers hard through his hair.
Eryn cocked her head to one side, sensing the desperation in his usually calm voice. “But what about the Cohen deal? I thought you were up against a deadline?”
He shrugged. “He can wait. And if not, he can find somebody else.”
She knew how much that would hurt his ego - to have someone else put together the plans for the much-anticipated performing arts center. The financial gains aside, this had been a project he had been itching to get his hands on for a long time.
“Where would we go?” Eryn wondered at his sudden need to be alone with her. Would it really make a difference?
Bryce walked over and knelt in front of her. “You name it. We’ll go there.”
Here he was, practically begging to go away with her, just the two of them. She had never seen him so serious, so desperate. If there really was a chance for them, she was willing to try.
“Well, I guess I need a couple of days to get ready. Besides, I don’t want to just leave Brandi here alone.” The moment the words left her lips, she was sorry.
Other than his jaw tightening, his face went still.
“Name the place, Eryn.” He said.
“Okay, okay. Let’s see,” she said quickly. She narrowed her eyes trying to remember the most exotic place she had seen in a travel magazine. Someplace secluded. Someplace where maybe, just maybe, they could find some common ground again.
“How about Fiji? There’s an island where we can have our own hut with our own private staff.” The image grew in her mind as her pulse quickened. “I read that if you want lobster for dinner they’ll go out and catch it for you. And the water is crystal clear.”
Bryce’s face softened as a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. He leaned in and kissed her hard, pressing her back in her chair.
“We’ll leave in a couple of days,” he promised.
Eryn bit her lip, watching him stride out of the room. Something still wasn’t right. For him to give up the Cohen account, to be in such a hurry to leave, was really odd. Too spontaneous for Bryce. She tapped a finger to her pursed lips. More than likely, Brandi was pushing his patience over the edge. That woman had a way of doing that to people.
“Shit.” She needed to get Brandi out of the house before they left.
Eryn grabbed another book, and, flipping though the pages, she found what she had noticed earlier. “We choose to be a part of soul groups to learn lessons, but not all relationships in the group are beneficial. If the negative feelings are not dealt with in this life, it will carry over until it is. The negative karma attracts interpersonal problems time after time.”
“They must have had Brandi in mind when they wrote that one,” Eryn murmured, shaking her head. Whatever lesson was in this, she had to face it. Tonight.
Chapter 32
Galen’s steps were brisk upon the stone floors leading to Catherine’s chambers. It had been so long since they had really talked, as they once had. His prolonged stay at Rynonshire had allowed too much time and space to grow between them. Fortunately, Lord Roberts had sent Galen, along with some of his men and Sara, back to Elderidge while he tied up some unruly ends at Rynonshire. Galen would soon return to take over the steward’s role.
Most importantly, Lord Roberts had promised that when he returned to Elderidge, he would tell Catherine of his intent to bind her and Galen in union.
He knocked lightly on the door. “Catherine?” He pushed the door open as he announced himself. “Catherine, it is I, Galen.” Receiving no answer, he peered into her chambers. The sunlight streamed through the window onto the papers strewed upon her writing desk. The bedcovers were spread neatly upon the bed. He looked around. There was no sign that she had been here this afternoon.
Galen ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. A gust of wind funneled through the window, lifting the edges of the papers, and sending them scattering. He lunged for them, but was unable to catch them before they fluttered to the floor.
“At the very least, milady, I can keep your chambers tidy for you,” he said softly. As he set the papers upon the table, one letter caught his eye.
My Dearest Jonathan,
A chill gripped his body. He instinctively looked behind him. Looking back at the letter, he quickly read, placing his hand on the table for support.
I do not know where to begin. Everyday I wait. How many times will the sun set before I see your beautiful face again? How many of my dreams will be empty and dark without your light to take me to the dawn? I search for you like a blind woman, looking through sightless eyes, and like her, I see nothing. By day I must remain Lady Catherine, strong, commanding, and responsible. Oh, to see you would surely be my undoing, for I would become a servant to you! My love for you would insist I be at your side, to care for nothing but you…
Galen became intensely aware of the way his blood pounded in his ears and how his chest constricted, making even the shallowest of breaths near impossible to draw forth. There had to be some mistake. This letter was unsigned. It could have been written by someone else’s hand, could it not? He stood at the desk, the letter in his hand, shaking ever so slightly.
“No! No!” he hissed. “This is not hers!” His aguish ran deep, and his heart knew the truth. Slamming the letter back onto the desk, he ran from the room in search of Catherine.
“Galen! What is the meaning of this?” Catherine gasped.
He had run around the corner directly into her with such force, she had been sent teetering on her heels.
“Catherine!” He grasped her shoulders to steady her. “My apologies! I was in a hurry.” His words spilled out. “Are you harmed?”
She smiled at his flustered state. “No, no, Galen. I am fine. Please do not fuss.”
She paused when she saw fear and uncertainty glimmering in his eyes. Holding his face with her hands, her voice was gentle, “Whatever is the matter?”
Without hesitation, Galen’s lips covered hers,
desperately searching for a response. Catherine, startled at first, acquiesced, letting Galen fulfill her need of intimacy she missed since Jonathan left.
But it was Galen who pulled away. “I am sorry, Catherine. I merely wanted to tell you...”
She looked at him patiently, one brow lifted in a delicate arch.
With an effort, he pushed the thought of the letter away. He did not need to know. She was here and the merchant was gone. Catherine would be his wife.
“I merely wanted to tell you I love you, Catherine. ‘Tis good to be home.”
≈
At nightfall, Catherine stood on the edge of the cliff, looking out across the vast ocean. The wind was cold and menacing, lifting the crests of the waves high into the air until they could stretch no longer, and then letting the water crash down with a deafening roar onto the jagged rocks below. The coal-gray skies were a stark contrast from that morning’s glorious blue. Drawing her cloak tighter around her body did little to ward off the cold.
Where was Jonathan now? How would his ship fare the brewing storm? He had sent word he would arrive within a fortnight, but this storm twisted her stomach in a queasy knot. A violent shudder ran through her as she turned and walked back towards her horse. The hooded cloak sheltered her from the elements, but could not hold at bay the deep fear that shook her.
Back at the castle, she crept up the winding stairs towards her bedchamber, her feet light on the stones. She slipped down the corridor to her room and silently pushed open the door to step inside. Candles illuminated the room, casting a soft glow against the walls.
A startled gasp escaped her lips as Catherine took in the figure standing in front of the fireplace, his hands braced against the mantle. Galen said nothing as he stared into the dancing flames.
“Ah, there she is. I told you she would return.” The voice dripped with mockery.
Catherine looked sharply in its direction and found her sister sitting in her bed, propped up with pillows.
“What goes on here?” Catherine looked from one to the other, a frown creasing her brow.
Sara slid off the bed and breezed past Catherine towards Galen, who continued to remain silently fixated on the fire.
“Galen was looking for you. I offered him company while he awaited your return.” Sara stood by him, gently placing her hand on his shoulder for a moment before he shook it off.
“Get out, Sara.” Catherine commanded.
Undeterred by her sister’s icy voice, Sara spoke to Galen. “What would you have me do?”
Catherine’s fingers curled into fists at her side as she bit back hard on her anger.
Only when Galen nodded his head in the direction of the door did Sara move from his side.
Galen waited until Sara closed the door before speaking.
“Where have you been?”
Catherine cringed at the accusation in his voice. She fought back the tears that welled, her heart aching. Gone was the innocence of their youth and the trust they once had.
“I simply could not sleep and needed some fresh air.” It was not a lie, she reminded herself. Her sleepless nights were indeed a part of her now, spurred by the longing and worry for a man she could not have.
Galen pushed himself from the mantle and turned to face her. Silhouetted against the glow of the blaze, he looked defeated, his broad shoulders drooping. When he walked towards her, his steps were hesitant, and when he stood before her, his face was weary and sad.
“What keeps you awake at night, Catherine?” He reached up to touch her face, his thumb tracing the circles beneath her eyes.
She tasted another lie. They came too easy for her now. But she could not tell the truth. “I do not know,” was all that she could say, but his eyes told her he knew otherwise.
His jaw clenched, and his eyes grew colder.
She stood motionless as he abruptly walked past her to the door. She pressed her lips together, bracing herself against the gnawing guilt. She spun around at the sound of the bolt sliding into place, but Galen was still in the room.
“I will have you, Catherine. Now.” He glared at her with the determination of a trained warrior. Galen stood his full height, his chest expanded to its full breadth. “I will not have that merchant take what is rightfully mine.”
Catherine raised an eyebrow to his declaration. “Rightfully yours? I am not a horse to be sold or bargained for, Galen.”
“So you say, dear lady, but I question your judgment. It seems to be clouded of late.”
He dropped his belt and pulled his tunic over his head, tossing it aside. His golden hair fell around his broad shoulders, the muscles tensed with anger.
She swallowed hard. She had never thought of him as a lover, but now, his sculpted chest, his rippling stomach, and his powerful thighs, gave her a moment’s pause. But only a moment, for with one stride he was in front of Catherine, staring hard into her eyes.
She defiantly lifted her chin and stared back.
Reaching out to stroke her cheek with the back of his fingers, his face softened and the harshness of his eyes was suddenly gone.
“I have always adored your fire, Catherine. You have so much passion in your soul.” He dipped his face close and brushed his lips against hers. “I love you to the depths of my own soul, Catherine.”
Though they were the tender words any other woman would yearn to hear from such a man, Catherine could not accept them.
“No, Galen. I cannot.” She tried to push him away, but his hand reached around her back and pulled her against his hard body. Their eyes locked and Catherine shivered at the coldness that once again turned his steel eyes to ice.
In one swift move he picked her up and carried her to the bed.
“Galen! No!” she cried, beating against his chest with her small hands.
“Do not dare deny me, milady,” he growled. “I have been patient with your folly too long. I have been your faithful servant for long years, but now I will be your lord.”
Throwing her roughly on the bed, he pulled up her arms and pinned them over her head. He then sprawled his full length over her body, letting her feel his desire.
“Let me see the same blaze of fire that lights up your eyes when you see that merchant.”
His crushing kiss halted her denial. His lips were harsh, bruising her mouth.
She pressed her lips together against his tongue’s assault.
He pulled away, smiling coldly. “Very well then. Just a warm glow will do.” He kissed a line along her jaw to her ear and whispered, “If you would only give me but a morsel of the passion you feel for him, I would die happy.”
He moved over her, pushing her knees apart with his own, his free hand cupping her breast, squeezing her nipple between his fingers. His breath was hot against her skin wherever he pressed his urgent kisses.
A scream worked its way up Catherine’s chest and throat, a scream of anger and panic. She knew he loved her, but she had asked him to wait. And to reward him for his patience, she fell in love with another man. Though she knew she had pushed him beyond endurance, he still had no right to take her like this! She squeezed her eyes tight, willing herself to stay calm. She would despise him for this, but he would hate her even more when he discovered she was no longer a maiden. She lay there, unmoving, as his hand worked its way under her dress, to her buttocks, pulling her closer.
Then he went still.
She waited for his anger to explode, waited for the sounds of ripping fabric, waited for the invasion of her body, but instead his grip slowly relaxed on her wrists.
He held his face inches from hers. “You may stop praying, Catherine.”
She opened her eyes and saw that the anger in his eyes had been replaced with sadness.
“I want you to come to me freely. I want your desire to match my own. If you cannot give yourself to me, I will not take you against your will.”
Pushing himself to sit at the side of the bed, he shoved his fingers through his hair. His breath was de
ep and labored with defeat. He looked to the ceiling, his eyes distant.
“I have fought many an enemy, but never one such as this. Even if I were to pierce his heart with a sword, I cannot kill what you so obviously feel for him.”
She opened her mouth to protest.
He shook his head. “I found your letter.”
She was too late to stifle her quick intake of air.
Galen closed his eyes and took another deep breath, his forehead creased in a frown. “Perhaps someday, Catherine, you will see my love is forever. I have no desire to be anywhere but with you.”
Hot tears stung her eyes and regret rose like bile in her throat and churned like acid in her stomach. How could a chance meeting with a merchant have turned her life so completely around? Had she not met Jonathan, had she not fallen in love… Aye, things would have been far simpler, but she would have lived her days behind a veil of gray, not seeing the vibrant colors of her own passion.
She kneeled beside Galen and put her forehead against his shoulder.
“I am so sorry,” she whispered.
His muscles tensed under her fingertips as she followed the outline of his arm.
“No. Please.” His voice was strained. He shrugged her off and abruptly got up to sit in the chair beside the bed. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands.
“It hurts so much, Catherine. It hurts because I love you with all of my heart.” He whispered as though he were afraid to admit his weakness. “I am hopelessly yours. I have no choice. I can love no one else.”
Catherine slid off the bed and again kneeled before him. She could not bear to see him, a man so strong, so fierce a warrior, reduced to this. She hated what she was doing to him.
Galen searched her face for some comfort, for some shred of hope for him. “Can there ever be love between us?”
She could not answer that, for she did not know.
His thumb smoothed the quivering of her lips and wiped away the tears that escaped her eyes. He fisted her hair at her neck and pulled her close to him, drawing her lips to his. Their tears mingled as the kiss deepened. A groan rumbled in his chest and he pulled away, breathless. He got up quickly, pushing her away.
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