by Untamed
He could hear her moving about. From the sounds of thrashing, she must be banging dresser drawers and stomping on floorboards. His heart leapt into his throat. Might she be moving furniture? Packing?
He opened the dressing-room door only to find her standing on the opposite side, her fist raised. “I was just coming to speak with you.” She lowered her hand to her side and stepped back for him to enter.
The room was at sixes and sevens, clothes strewn about, books and journals and bric-a-brac dumped onto the bed. For a woman who prided herself on her household-management capabilities, it was one hellish mess. Mrs. Beeton would most definitely not have approved.
He swung his gaze back to Kate, standing in the center of the room. “Going somewhere?”
“I’ve done a great deal of thinking this past week, and I’ve come to the conclusion there is indeed no point in our being leg-shackled to one another any longer than we can help it.”
“Kate!”
“Why should we go on deceiving our friends, ourselves, when it is painfully obvious to all that we will never suit?”
His gaze bore into hers. “So it’s a divorce you want, then? To obtain one, one of us would have to claim adultery.”
Her eyes flashed wide. For a half second, it occurred to him to ask what she might be thinking. He couldn’t imagine Kate being unfaithful to him.
She swung her head to the side. “Not a divorce, but a separation. You have only to have the deed drawn up and I will sign it.”
“Is that really what you wish?” He felt as though she’d slashed open a vital vein and left him to bleed out.
She nodded. “It is.”
Thinking of all the ways they’d made love in this very room, Rourke felt his throat tightening. “In that case, I will provide you with an annual allowance for your maintenance, enough to allow you to set up a household independent of your father.”
Eyes bleak, she gave a sharp, quick nod. “That is generous of you.”
He moved toward her, settling his hands atop her shoulders. As much as he loved her and wanted her to stay, what he most wanted for her was to be happy.
“I willna tell you what to do with your portion, but I will say privately and because I care for you that you’re a fool if you give your father as much as a farthing. He’s a wastrel, Katie, a drunkard and a gamester. He doesna deserve you. Dinna let him take from you any more than he already has. If it’s freedom you want, then be free.” He let his hands drop to his sides. “I’ll ask Gavin to draw up the papers, only there’s nay need to dampen tonight’s birthday celebration. Our news can keep until tomorrow.”
She nodded. “As soon as the document is signed and witnessed, I’ll go. There is no reason I cannot be prepared to leave for London within the week.”
Silence descended like a leaden curtain between them, cumbersome and heavy. Rourke fancied he felt the pall of it pressing down upon them both, burying all their unrealized dreams and cherished hopes.
Kate’s gaze climbed to his face. “We never would have worked. It was a lovely dream, but we’re too different. We never stood a chance … did we?”
Staring down into her lovely, sad face, Rourke felt as if a razor slashed at his heart. He shook his head. “Nay, we never stood a chance. Not a snowball’s chance in hell.”
Kate’s determination to take the high road while they had guests under their roof was subverted by Felicity’s seeking her out alone. She was in the dining room fighting tears and checking the table settings when the Scotswoman waltzed in.
Without looking up, she asked, “What can I do for you, Felicity?”
“I came to offer my condolences. You and Rourke are separating, are you not?”
Kate snapped her head upright. The spoon she’d held clanged to the floor. “Listening at keyholes is not an attractive quality.”
Reaching the foot of the table, Felicity slid a dessert fork a fraction of a millimeter to the left. Kate felt her jaw clench.
“Were I you, I’d try for an annulment. With your reputation as a shrew, sure everyone will think you were simply too frigid to bear bedding.”
Kate swallowed against the lump rising high in her throat. The dam at the back of her eyes was a hairsbreadth from bursting. Rourke had called her out as a shrew the week before. Was Felicity parroting what he’d told her in private? Separating though they were, the prospect of her husband discussing her with his mistress made her sick inside.
“Get out, Felicity. Until dinner, you may amuse yourself in the parlor with our other guests provided you hold that forked tongue of yours in check. Tonight is Gavin’s birthday, and our friends have traveled a goodly distance to celebrate. I won’t have you ruining everyone’s evening.”
Felicity shrugged. “Nay worries, Katherine. I’ll keep your secret so as not to spoil your wee dinner party. It may be meant as a birthday celebration, but it seems more in the way of a farewell dinner—yours.” She turned and strolled out of the room, leaving Kate clutching the back of the chair and shaking in her wake.
Kate walked back to the table, dragged out a chair, and sat. She pushed a place setting of carefully laid Limoges to the side with the edge of her arm, planted her elbows on the table, and braced her head in her hands. Only then did she give herself permission to cry. She cried until she tasted the scalding brine inside her mouth, and then she cried some more. She cried as though her heart would break, as though it was broken already. It was broken, she felt sure of it. Bit by bit she felt it breaking away, releasing an avalanche of buried dreams, of pent-up pain. And how could it not be?
She loved Patrick with all her soul, with all that she was and had yet to become. She loved him for his failings, as well as for his finer qualities. She loved his humped nose and crooked half smile every whit as much as she loved his beautiful emerald eyes and perfectly planed chest. Loving him wasn’t a matter of logic or convenience or, God knew, common sense. She loved him because she loved him, because she couldn’t help loving him, because to not love Patrick O’Rourke was quite simply not in her realm of being. To settle on not loving him would be akin to choosing to have blue eyes over brown, to stop being who she was, to stop being. And yet as much as she loved him, the curse remained unbroken.
When Kate loved someone, they always, always went away.
Kate’s encounter with Felicity set the tone for the dinner party that night. The couples paired off to go into dinner. Rourke held back from the door, and Felicity seized the opportunity to slip her arm through his. He cast Kate a look, but she refused to meet his eye. He and Felicity were humiliating her under her very roof, and there wasn’t a bloody thing she could do about it. Not her roof for much longer, she reminded herself. After she and Rourke made their announcement tomorrow, she would begin making her arrangements to leave. Once she let a small house in the country with a stable, she would send for her horse. Given the trouble to which he’d gone to buy Princess back, Kate didn’t think Rourke would begrudge her another few weeks of stabling and feed. Even with the proof of his infidelity sailing ahead into the dining room on his arm, she couldn’t think of him as a bad person.
But house hunting and packing must wait. First there were the next few hours to be got through.
From the head of the dining table, Rourke called down to Kate, “If it isna too much trouble, pray pass the salt. It is at your end, I believe.”
“No trouble at all, my darling. Would you care for the pepper, as well, or do you find the tart sufficiently spicy?” She cut her gaze to Felicity.
Felicity didn’t look up. The redhead appeared engrossed by the veal cutlet on her plate. Among the eight of them, the Scotswoman was the only one doing justice to Cook’s fine fare.
Rourke glared back. “The dishes are all perfectly prepared, though the company in certain quarters seems to have curdled.”
That did it. Kate threw down her napkin as though it was a gauntlet. “No worries, husband. Ere long you shall have only honeyed words and syrupy smiles to grace your tab
le.”
The farcical dinner party seemed to be taking its toll on everyone. To make matters worse, Bea shot dagger looks Kate’s way every chance she got. Rourke had apparently spoken to Ralph, and the offer of riding lessons had been tabled indefinitely. By the time the fruit course was cleared, Harry declared himself stuffed to the gills, and the others echoed the sentiment. When Kate suggested they take their champagne and cake in the parlor, the company rose at once as if glad to escape the oppressive atmosphere.
In the parlor, champagne flutes were passed around and cake cut and served. Once the birthday toast was drunk, Felicity announced she would favor them with a song. Looking on with an aching heart as her rival sang a soulful Celtic ballad of unrequited love, a deliberate choice, Kate was sure, it occurred to her that soon Rourke would have almost all of what he’d set out to win two years before: a willing woman to charm his dinner guests and breed heirs for his railways.
Only it wouldn’t be her.
Callie and Daisy exchanged glances. Throughout the tense meal, they, too, had watched Felicity and the byplay surrounding her, and they did not greatly care for what they’d seen. As soon as the song ended, Daisy crossed to the piano and took firm hold of Felicity’s arm.
“Felicity, I’d like a word with you—in the hallway, if you please.”
The girl scarcely looked up from the sheet music she flipped through. “I don’t fancy going out into the hallway just now.”
Callie appeared on Felicity’s other side. “I’m afraid we insist.”
Taking advantage of the confusion, they marched her out into the hall between them.
The Scotswoman divided her gaze between them. “What is so terribly important that it could not wait?”
Daisy came directly to the point. “My husband and I have considerable contacts in the theatrical world. W. S. Gilbert is a very great friend of ours.”
Felicity’s jaw slackened. “You know Gilbert of Gilbert and Sullivan!”
Daisy nodded. “I do. Sir Gilbert has been badgering me to star as Yum-Yum in The Mikado ever since he first saw me debut at Drury Lane. Were I to recommend another actress for the part, an audition would be all but guaranteed.”
Felicity clapped a hand over her heart. “I know all the songs by heart.”
“I’ll wager you do.” Tall herself, Daisy looked around Felicity’s shoulders and caught Callie’s eye. “But if you want that audition, you’ll have to strike a bargain with us first.”
Felicity’s blue eyes narrowed. She looked between the two women. “What sort of bargain?”
Her quarry having taken the bait, Daisy continued, “I will write a letter to Sir Gilbert, recommending you for a private audition. In return, you will not only go away but stay away, and leave our friends Rourke and Kate in peace—permanently.”
Callie broke in, “And first thing tomorrow morning, you must have a chat with Kate and explain to her that you are not sleeping with her husband.”
Felicity screwed up her face. “And if I refuse?”
Daisy didn’t hesitate. “I shall make bloody sure the only role you ever receive in a London theatre is as a member of the audience.”
“All right, I’ll do it.”
Watching Felicity sashay back inside, Daisy and Callie could no longer hide their smiles. They burst out laughing.
Callie wiped her eyes and turned to her friend. “Do you think she has a chance?”
Daisy shrugged. “Whatever else she is, Felicity really does have a very good voice. And as we’ve just seen demonstrated, she’s a decent actress, though her delivery could do with a bit of polish. With her flamboyant looks and obvious flair for drama, who knows how far she might go?”
Callie smiled. “So long as her success takes her far away from Rourke and Kate, I’d say it’s a case of bon voyage and good riddance.”
Rourke didn’t sleep that night. Lying awake listening for sounds of Kate stirring in the adjoining room, he allowed that the impending separation was entirely his fault. In relying on a play to “tame” his bride, he’d built their marriage on a foundation of trickery and deceit. Small wonder Kate didn’t trust him, not with her troubles and most definitely not with her heart.
Giving up on sleep, he rose, dressed, and headed out to the stables, boots crunching on the frozen snow, his dog darting ahead. Once inside the stable, some devil’s impulse drew him over to Zeus’s stall. The trainer had finally arrived, and the stallion was coming along nicely. He wasn’t yet broken, though, not completely. Rourke could see the untamed passion in his eyes, just as he could see it in Kate’s.
Kate. Pain fisted his heart, the aftermath making him reckless. The horse’s wildness matched his mood. He took the lantern off the peg and went into the tack room. Saddling a wilding in shadow wasn’t easy, but as determined as the beast was to thwart him, Rourke had the devil on his side. Before long, he was galloping across the snow toward the loch.
Halfway there, it started snowing. The first fine powder fast built to blanketing. Soon it was as though the Powers That Be were dumping buckets of the stuff over his head. His glasses fogged. He finally gave up on wiping them and shoved them inside his pocket. Beneath him, the horse reared. Rourke snapped his head upright, struggling to see. The white mass rose up before him like an Eskimo’s igloo. Too late to turn, he tried jumping, but the horse missed. The stallion screamed. Foot slipping from the stirrup, Rourke vaulted headfirst over the saddle. He landed hard. Pain shot through his arm, centering in his shoulder. He rolled—down, down, down—the winter-white world whizzing by. He reached out, hands clawing at air, feet kicking to find purchase on ground. A protrusion from the snow broke his fall. He hooked his good arm about it, a tree branch growing out from the edge of the hillside. Panting, he held on. Even as he did so, he acknowledged he was going to die. Not from the blood trickling into his mouth that he dare not wipe away, or from his likely-to-be-dislocated shoulder, or even necessarily from falling to the ravine below, though that might well happen, too. He was going to freeze to death. The particulars might be sketchy, but the outcome was assured.
He was going to die, and his first thought—his only thought—was that he would never see his Katie girl again.
I love you, Kate.
He closed his eyes and waited.
Kate, too, spent a restless night. Wide awake, the sound of Rourke’s bedroom door closing had her rocketing upright in bed. Toby’s bark below her window drew her attention outside. It was still dark, but the sky looked more cream than pitch. A gentle snow started, tapping against the window’s leaded-glass panes. Bobbing light pointed her gaze to Rourke’s silhouette. He was headed for the stables. Her first thought was he must be going to meet Felicity. But no, Felicity slept in one of the east tower rooms. Trysting in the stables when there was a perfectly good bed to be had would be a long way to go to uphold a romantic cliché.
Time ticked by. Kate stood at her window, waiting. Finally he rode beneath her window, though she didn’t think he looked her way. The dog didn’t follow. The snowfall was steadier now, harder. Kate couldn’t be certain, but she thought the mount he rode looked larger than the bay, his usual horse. Watching him ride away, she glimpsed her future. With no ornery Scot to spar with by day and make love with by night, the years ahead stretched out—lonely, desolate, and bleak. All the chocolate confections and romantic novels in the world would not come close to filling such a void. She didn’t want a separation or a divorce. What she wanted was a marriage.
Decided, she turned up a lamp, stripped off her nightgown, and fumbled in her wardrobe for her riding habit. By the time she stepped into the main stable building, dawn was breaking. Reminded of that day when as a child she’d found Princess’s stall empty, her heart sank. This time the empty stall was Zeus’s. For the first time she understood the fear behind his tight-lipped fury when she’d taken Zeus out against his orders.
Oh, Patrick.
She hurried into the tack room and emerged with a saddle and bridle. Princess l
ifted her head and whinnied, but she hadn’t time for more than a pet in passing. “I’m afraid this is one adventure you’re going to have to sit out, old friend.”
Instead she led Buttercup out of her stall and over to the mounting block. “Are you up to it, my girl?” Kate might as easily have asked the question of herself.
By the time Kate rode out, Toby running ahead, daylight was breaking. It still snowed, but the fall had subsided to a fine powdery mist. She came to a low stone wall, scarcely recognizable from the banked snow. Toby fell into a frenzy of barking. At first Kate dismissed it, telling herself he must have scented an animal he identified as prey, but when he wouldn’t cease, she decided to have a look. She dismounted, and her eye caught on a small shiny object sticking up from the snow. She bent to have a look. Tunneling a hand into the snow, she picked the object up and brushed the snow off. Her heart slammed into chest. She held her husband’s glasses.
She waded over to the ledge beyond the wall, the mare’s hooves crunching in the snow, her own boots sinking to midcalf. She was reminded of her and Rourke’s miserable trek from the train station. A lump rose in her throat. What she wouldn’t give for the chance to step back in time and undo even the last few hours.
Toby raced ahead. She followed the dog over to where the hillside dropped off. Coming to the edge, she saw that a ravine of sorts lay below. Imaging her husband’s big, beautiful body lying twisted and broken at the bottom, she had to force herself to look down.
A groan drew her attention to the far left. She leaned over to look, and her gaze snagged on the snowman dangling off the side. Rourke?
“Rourke!”
A scarlet streak slashed through the frozen mask on his face. It took her a few seconds to realize it must be blood. But he was moving, and if snowmen didn’t move, then neither did dead men.
Grateful tears crystallized on her cheeks. “Rourke, don’t move. I’m here.”