Guy rested his forehead against hers, his eyes closed and his brow damp with perspiration. He remained inside her, their bodies joined as one.
“I love you, Kate,” he whispered. “I’ve loved you since I woke to find you praying over me in that ruined chapel.”
His eyes opened and searched hers, as though he needed to know she wasn’t sorry. As Kate opened her mouth to reassure him, she realized she truly wasn’t. She had no regrets. Not yet. She felt alive for the first time in years and the feeling was heady, and dangerous. She knew she should go to church tomorrow, confess, and do penance, but she wasn’t repentant. No number of Hail Marys would put out the fire in her soul or erase Guy from her heart. Tomorrow, the harsh reality of her situation and the unbearable weight of her sin would reassert themselves, but tonight, she was free, and she was in love.
“You’re mine now,” Guy said as he rolled off her to take the strain off his right arm.
“I belong to Hugh. You know that,” Kate replied. The words felt wrong in her mouth, like bitter fruit that hadn’t ripened into something delicious, but this wasn’t a truth she could spit out. This particular reality had to be swallowed, every day of her life.
“Not for much longer.”
“What do you mean?”
“Will you leave him if I find a way for us to be together?” Guy demanded.
“I’m his wife.”
“Will you leave him?” he asked again.
Kate hesitated.
For only a moment, Guy’s eyes flashed with anger and hurt. “I won’t share you with him. Say the word and I’ll be gone by morning.”
Kate reached out and cupped Guy’s cheek, looking deep into the blue pools of his despair. “Don’t go. Please,” she whispered. “I can’t go on without you. I don’t know how. I hadn’t realized how empty I felt with you gone, how broken. But what we’ve just done is a sin, in the eyes of God and man. We can’t love each other openly.”
“I would risk hell and damnation for even one more day with you,” Guy said.
“Hugh would kill us both if he found out,” Kate said, knowing it to be true.
“Aye, he would. But if I leave you again I’ll be dead anyhow because I’d be leaving my heart here, and I can’t survive without it.”
Kate allowed Guy to pull her close and rested her cheek against his chest. He was so solid, and so warm. He held her against him, his limbs intertwined with hers, like two parts of one whole. The beating of his heart was like the steady beat of a drum—a drum calling a soldier to war, for Guy had just declared war on his brother.
Chapter 62
August 2014
London, England
The day of Emma’s birthday party dawned sunny and bright. Emma was delighted since she had fretted that it would rain. She danced before the mirror as she tried on outfit after outfit, eager to choose just the right one. She’d picked out a frock last week, then changed her mind. She’d settled on another dress two days ago, then had gone back to the original outfit last night, but when she woke in the morning, she had doubts once again and proclaimed the chosen dress to be all wrong.
“You might want to wear trousers,” Quinn pointed out. “It’ll be cold on the ice. You can change into a dress after the ice skating if you like.”
Emma considered this for a moment. “Okay. I’ll wear jeans and my sparkly pink top with a matching headband, then change into the blue frock after the skating.”
“That sounds like a wonderful idea.” Quinn found the top in question and laid it out on the bed before rummaging in Emma’s plastic accessory box for the right headband.
“Is Grandma Phoebe meeting us there?”
Phoebe had arrived the day before and was installed in a hotel close to St. Pancras Station. She’d stayed there with Graham a few years before when they came down to London to visit Gabe and liked it enough to return. Quinn wished they had a spare bedroom so Phoebe could have stayed with them. She would have thoroughly enjoyed Emma’s fashion show and would have loved to do her hair. With only the one son, Phoebe felt like she’d missed out and bought Emma a new outfit every time something caught her eye.
“We will collect Grandma Phoebe on the way to the skating rink.”
“What about Grandma Sylvia?”
Quinn hadn’t wanted to invite Sylvia, given the way they’d parted a few weeks ago, but it would be too difficult to explain to Emma why Sylvia couldn’t attend her party. The skating rink venue was only for the children, so it had been decided that a second birthday cake would be served after the party at the flat for Phoebe, Sylvia, Logan and Colin, Jill and Brian, and Brenda and Pete. Quinn wished her parents could have come, but to return to England only two months after they’d come for the wedding was too costly, so they’d send Emma a present instead. It was a beautiful dollhouse. Not the kind made of plastic, complete with clunky fixtures and pink shutters, but one crafted of real wood, with exquisite Victorian furniture and real fabric curtains at the windows.
There was a family to go with the house—a dainty lady in a crinoline dress, a gentleman in a top hat, and two adorable children wearing baby gowns and bonnets. Emma had been in raptures when the house arrived. Quinn secretly thought Emma would tire of the Victorian set-up within a week, but her parents had never asked for her input, purchasing a gift more appropriate for the history-loving child Quinn used to be at Emma’s age rather than for a Disney-obsessed five-year-old.
“Grandma Sylvia will come to the skating rink with Jude and then come back here for cake,” Quinn said. She hadn’t wanted Sylvia to come to the rink, but Logan had mentioned that Jude and Bridget needed a ride and Sylvia had volunteered.
“Will Jude and Bridget come back to the flat too?” Emma always liked to be fully prepared for what was to come. Quinn supposed that given what had happened to her mother and grandmother, she liked to feel in control of the situation.
“I’ve invited them, but they haven’t confirmed.”
“That’s just like Jude,” Emma observed as she allowed Quinn to brush her hair and affix the headband.
“Is it?”
“He’s noncommittal.”
“And where did you learn that word?” Quinn chuckled at Emma’s precociousness. Some days, she was five going on fifteen.
“I heard it from Miss Aubrey. She’s seeing a bloke who’s noncommittal.”
“Do you know what that means?”
“It means he doesn’t want to marry her,” Emma explained as she adjusted the headband and gave her hair a dramatic flip. “He’s playing the field.”
“Who’s playing the field?” Gabe asked as he stepped into the room. “Never mind. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. You look beautiful, darling. Are you ready?”
“Yes. Oh, I can’t wait. This party will be bloody brilliant!” Emma exclaimed.
“I’ll thank you not to say ‘bloody’,” Gabe admonished her. Both Quinn and Gabe were dismayed by some of the terms Emma had started using over the past few months.
“Fine. Sorry,” Emma mumbled.
“The party will be amazing, and you’ll be very pleased,” Gabe said, sounding more like his father than a man in his thirties.
“Yeah, chuffed to bits. Let’s go.” Emma stomped from the room, leaving Quinn and Gabe to follow.
“I hope my mum is right and we’re having a boy,” Gabe muttered as they left the flat. “I don’t think I can handle two of those, especially not during the teenage years. One teenage girl is more intimidating than a marauding horde.”
“Coward!” Quinn nudged Gabe in the ribs.
“And not ashamed to admit it.”
Once they arrived at the skating rink, Quinn waddled over to the row of seats nestled against the wall and settled in. Her belly had popped over the past few weeks, and her center of gravity had shifted, making her clumsy. She was glad she’d worn flats and maternity trousers with a gauzy top instead of a dress. She’d have been too uncomfortable in shoes, even flat ones. Her feet were puffy and h
er ankles double their normal size, but they were cleverly concealed by the flared trousers. Her outfit was somewhat trendy, so she didn’t feel too dull and drab, but she was beginning to miss her old body and wondered if she’d ever go back to normal post-baby.
Emma’s school friends were already beginning to arrive. Emma greeted them effusively, accepted the colorful boxes and gift bags, and directed them to the counter where they could collect their rented skates. Gabe stood quietly by like a bodyguard, allowing Emma to play hostess. Most of the parents elected not to stay since there was plenty of adult supervision and the children would be escorted from one activity to the next. Quinn looked around, then glanced at her watch. Jude and his friends should have been there by now. She hoped Jude wouldn’t let her down. Emma was looking forward to amazing her guests with ‘real’ Frozen characters.
Quinn tensed as Sylvia slid into a seat next to her. “Jude’s in the Gents’ getting his prince on. He didn’t fancy coming already dressed up. Wasn’t up for the ribbing from his friends.”
Quinn was about to reply when Jude, Bridget, and two of their friends took the ice, dressed as characters from the film. Emma’s girlfriends nearly fainted with excitement, and even the boys looked pleased with two pretty princesses to admire. Jude’s friend Olly, dressed as Olaf, was a big hit as well since he really got into character.
“It’s wonderful to be five, isn’t it?” Sylvia asked as she watched the children skate in a circle to the soundtrack from the film.
“Emma’s known more loss in her five years than some people know in a lifetime.”
“I know she has, and I’m glad she’s enjoying this.”
Jude skated past them and slowed down long enough to give them a dramatic bow.
“Cheeky,” Sylvia said, smiling at her son.
“I think he’s having fun too,” Quinn replied, watching Jude as he executed an elaborate twirl.
Jude did seem to be enjoying himself. He took Emma by the hands and led her into the middle of the rink, engaging her in something resembling a waltz. Emma was unsteady on her feet, but Jude helped her maintain her balance as he pulled her along and spun her around. She was delighted.
Quinn scanned the premises, wondering where Gabe and Phoebe had got to. They’d gone to check on the pizza and to bring the cake to the restaurant so that all would be in readiness once the children finished skating, but they should have been back by now.
“I hope you’re pleased with yourself,” Sylvia suddenly said. Her pleasure at seeing Jude in costume had evaporated and she now looked sullen and wary.
“Pardon?”
“Rhys’s gone off me. I can only assume I have you to thank for his change of heart. You just had to tell him, didn’t you?” Bright spots of color appeared in her normally pale cheeks.
“Tell him what?”
“About the other baby. Quentin.”
“He was there when I found out,” Quinn snapped.
“Then why did he stop coming round?” Sylvia demanded.
“Perhaps you should ask him. It’s nothing to do with me.”
“Isn’t it? He’s as devoted to you as a puppy,” Sylvia hissed.
“I hardly think that’s an accurate description of our relationship.” Quinn was becoming angry herself. Sylvia had no business putting her in the middle. Rhys was her boss, but he was also her friend, and a mentor of sorts. She could not and would not intercede on Sylvia’s behalf, more so because she knew the real reason for Rhys’s decision.
“Rhys dotes on you. No wonder he’s angry on your behalf,” Sylvia persisted.
“I’m not having this conversation,” Quinn said and sprang to her feet. “Enjoy the party, Sylvia.”
Quinn swung Emma’s backpack over her shoulder and headed toward the restaurant in the hope of finding Gabe, more annoyed with herself than with Sylvia. Her birth mother knew how to push her buttons, and Quinn fell for her antics every time, completely abandoning her well-intentioned resolve not to engage and to adjust her expectations to run somewhat parallel to reality.
“Fancy a cup of tea?” Gabe asked as he met her halfway and enveloped her in a bear hug. “It’s arctic in here.”
“No, I’m all right. Emma will want to change into her dress now that they’re getting off the ice.”
“I can help her,” Phoebe offered. “You just stay off your feet.”
Quinn changed her mind about the tea and settled at one of the tables with Gabe, a steaming Styrofoam cup in front of her. She hoped Sylvia wouldn’t attempt to join them. She’d had about enough of her drama for one afternoon. In fact, she regretted inviting Sylvia back to their place, but it was too late to take back the invitation. She only hoped that Sylvia might be astute enough to see that she wasn’t wanted.
Quinn smiled and waved as the children trooped into the restaurant, flushed from the exercise and ready for their lunch. Emma was already wearing her party frock and her pretty pink flats. Phoebe had brushed Emma’s hair and adjusted the headband. She looked so cool, butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.
“She looks so happy.” Gabe’s eyes glowed with love as he watched Emma. “I’m so glad we were able to do this for her.”
“Me too. I never had parties like this when I was a girl. I’m kind of jealous.”
“So am I. For my fifth birthday, all of mum’s siblings descended on the house with their kids. We played outside, then came in for orange squash and cake. Mum had a row with her sister, and dad, who was foolish enough to get between them, took refuge in the library after getting told off in front of the other husbands. Mum and Dad didn’t speak to each other for days.”
“Did you at least get good presents?”
“I got some toys and books.”
“Not a bad haul,” Quinn replied, smiling. She liked to imagine Gabe as a little boy, and could very well guess where Emma got her precociousness.
The children finished their pizza, sang a hilariously off-key version of “Happy Birthday” and clapped as Emma blew out her birthday candles. They wolfed down the cake in record time before running off to the arcade, armed with stacks of tokens, which they’d burn through within minutes. Quinn nibbled on a piece of cake, pleased that the party had gone off without a hitch. This was the first birthday party she’d planned, and it had been important to get it right.
Before long, all the children had been collected by their parents, and the pile of gifts was loaded in the boot of Gabe’s car. Quinn tried to hide her annoyance when Sylvia sauntered over to her. Sylvia’s smile was forced as she acknowledged Gabe, but her gaze grew hard and accusing when it slid back to Quinn.
“I think I’ll skip the cake at your place. I do hope you understand. I’ll drop Jude and Bridget at their flat. They have plans.”
Quinn wasn’t surprised that Sylvia begged off or that Jude and Bridget had decided not to come. It was a relief, actually.
“Thank you for coming, Sylvia. It meant a lot to Emma,” Gabe said, polite as ever.
“I hope she likes her gift. I put a lot of thought into it.”
“I’m sure she’ll love it,” Gabe replied when he realized Quinn wasn’t about to and it was up to him to fill the awkward silence.
“I’ll just say goodbye to Emma.” Sylvia looked around. “Where is she?”
“She had a few tokens left and wanted to use them up. She’ll be back soon.”
A few moments later, Emma came bouncing toward them, beaming. She held a tiny multi-colored bear that she must have won.
“Did you enjoy your party?” Quinn asked as she handed Emma an antibacterial wipe for her hands.
“Oh, yes. It was smashing. Can we do this again next year?”
“Let’s wait and see, shall we? Now, why don’t you say goodbye to Grandma Sylvia? She’s not coming back to the flat.”
“Bye, Grandma Sylvia,” Emma sang as she twirled around. She didn’t appear too disappointed.
“Are you ready to go? Grandma Phoebe’s already in the car.” Gabe held out his hand
to Emma.
“Okay,” Emma replied. “Oh, look what I found, Daddy. It’s a pretty sticker.” Emma had extracted something from her pocket and held it out to Gabe.
“Give me that!” Gabe grabbed the sticker from Emma’s hand and shoved it in his pocket.
“But I want it,” Emma wailed.
“Where did you find it?” Gabe demanded. He took Emma by the shoulders, frightening her with his sudden change of mood.
“Over there.” Emma pointed to the table where Jude had sat with his friends while the children enjoyed pizza and birthday cake.
“Gabe, what’s wrong?” Quinn asked.
Gabe didn’t reply. His eyes blazed with fury as he scanned the premises until his gaze alighted on Jude, who’d just stepped out of the Gents’, his costume over his arm. “I’m going to kill him,” Gabe exclaimed and took off, heading straight for Jude.
“Gabe!” Quinn didn’t know if she should go after him or see to Emma, who appeared to be on the verge of tears.
Emma clung to Quinn, her eyes huge with shock. “What did Jude do?” she whimpered.
“I don’t know, darling.”
Quinn looked on in shocked silence as Gabe grabbed Jude and slammed him against the wall, knocking the wind out of him. She couldn’t hear what was being said, but when Gabe punched Jude in the face and then belted him one in the stomach, Emma began to cry, burying her face in Quinn’s side.
“Let go of him!” Sylvia bellowed, but Gabe ignored her. He held Jude pinned against the wall, his face mere inches from the terrified young man as his fingers closed around Jude’s windpipe.
“Gabe, stop!” Quinn cried.
The sound of her voice seemed to bring Gabe to his senses and he loosened the hold on Jude’s throat, but remained uncomfortably close, blocking Jude’s escape.
“What’s your problem, man?” Jude’s hand went to his bruised throat. “You’re barking mad.”
“Am I?’ Gabe growled.
“I’m calling the police. This is assault!” Sylvia exclaimed as she fumbled in her handbag for her mobile.
The Forsaken (Echoes from the Past Book 4) Page 34