Out of Sight

by Rebecca Duval

  The crowd shifted, restlessly muttering.

  “Aye, to Ethan!” A gruff Scotsman in a kilt and plague doctor mask thrust his glass into the air, and a few of the guests around him copied.

  “To Ethan!”

  Glasses clinked and people cheered, and at the far side of the ballroom, the man they toasted swatted the flimsy curtains aside and disappeared into the night.

  Connor lowered the microphone, and Ryder approached him, touching him lightly on the arm. Connor looked up, his eyes meeting Isla’s across the ballroom.

  She turned away and marched after Ethan.

  Thirty Five

  Frigid air hit Isla’s skin like a slap as she rushed through the ballroom doors onto the terrace.

  Ethan sat on the low wall, his head in his hands.

  “Ethan?” Isla sat down beside him. “Are you okay?” He didn’t answer. She touched his arm, and Ethan lifted his head, his eyes flitting across her.

  “I cannae-” his Adam’s apple bobbed, as he struggled to get the words out.

  “Hey.” Isla took one of his hands in hers. “You can’t what?”

  Ethan shook his head. He was breathing fast. Too fast. His chest rapidly rising and falling beneath his stark white shirt.

  “Fuck!” A small sob escaped his throat, and Isla’s heart splintered.

  “Ethan, whatever it is, it’s going to be okay.”

  He shook his head emphatically and gasped for breath.

  “It is, it is, I promise you. You just need to breathe, okay? Just breathe…”

  “I cannae breathe.” Ethan tugged at the collar of his shirt, and with trembling fingers tried to unknot his bow-tie.

  “Here, let me.” Isla unfastened his bow-tie and undid the top two buttons of his shirt. She could see Ethan’s pulse bounding in the hollow of his throat. “You’re safe. Whatever your mind is telling you, it’s not real, Ethan. You’re here, and I’m here, and you’re going to get through this. Just breathe. In and out. Like this-” Isla inhaled and exhaled slowly.

  Ethan copied her.

  “That’s it. You’ve got this. Keep breathing okay?” Isla took his hands in hers.

  Eventually, Ethan’s breathing slowed, and he raised his head. He was pale, and a sheen of sweat covered his brow. “I should have known this would happen. I should have known I couldnae forget, even for one night...”

  He meant the accident. Isla’s mind swirled with questions, but she couldn’t ask Ethan anything when he’d only just caught his breath.

  Isla glanced towards the ballroom doors. The black curtains billowed out over the stone terrace, and she kept expecting someone to walk through them. Why hadn’t anyone else followed Ethan? The music had stopped. There was no noise at all from inside, but across the empty grounds came the sound of car doors slamming, and engines rumbling to life. People were leaving.

  “It’s over,” Isla said softly.

  “It’s never over.” Ethan’s voice was raw.

  They sat in silence on the cold stone wall, listening to the distant sounds of tyres crunching over gravel, as Rosehill emptied once more.

  Finally, Ethan spoke. “How much of that conversation did you overhear?”

  “Some,” Isla admitted. “Enough.”

  Beneath the silver of his mask, Ethan’s jaw hardened. “Then you know I cannae do this. Whatever this is between us, I dinnae deserve it.”

  “I know you think that. I don’t know that it’s true.”

  Ethan pulled his hands away and clenched them into fists on his knees as if bracing himself for impact.

  “I wasnae alone in the car, Isla.”

  Isla’s stomach dropped. But on some level, she’d already known. It was the only thing that made sense, that explained Ethan’s self-loathing, why he hid himself away at Rosehill, why he kept everyone - including her - at a distance, but to hear him actually say it, knocked the breath from her momentarily.

  “I guessed,” she said eventually.

  Ethan’s nostrils flared beneath the tip of his mask. “But...how?”

  “I pieced it together.” Isla thought of the times he’d tried to push her away, his warning that he was no good for her, and her heart ached. A part of her yearned for answers, wanted to understand what had happened, and why, and if Ethan would ever be able to move on, but they weren’t questions she could ask. Not now, maybe not ever.

  “When?” Ethan asked.

  “I think I’ve suspected for a while.”

  “So, before we...you knew?” Ethan ran one hand through his hair.

  “I didn’t know until now, but if you’re asking me had I considered the possibility before sleeping with you, then the answer is yes, Ethan. Everyone makes mistakes, it doesn’t mean they should be condemned forever.”

  “Not everyone has blood on their hands.”

  Isla reached out and gingerly brushed her fingers over Ethan’s knuckles. He flinched, but he didn’t pull away. “It was an accident.”

  “How could you possibly know that?” His voice was both harsh and weary.

  “Because if it wasn’t, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

  “Aye, well you have my parents to thank for that,” Ethan muttered.

  “What are you talking about?”

  Ethan sighed and got to his feet. “There was an investigation. I told them it was my fault, that I was to blame, but I was in and out of consciousness, in and out of surgery, pumped full of medication. My mum persuaded them I was delirious with pain, wracked with guilt-”

  “Weren’t you?” Isla whispered.

  Ethan turned to her. “Aye, but it doesnae change the facts, Isla. She died because of me.”

  She. An image flashed through Isla’s mind of a girl with sleek, dark hair smiling out from a photograph, and Isla knew at once she was right. Alicia du Pont’s words rang in Isla’s ears- ‘that poor girl…’

  “You were in love with her,” Isla said. It was a statement, not a question, but Ethan answered anyway.

  “Yes.”

  Isla looked up at Ethan standing before her, his face masked, his jaw clenched. A pulse was visible above the stark, white collar of his shirt. His cane clenched in one hand.

  “Do you want to go?” he asked.

  Isla got to her feet and moved towards him. “Walk with me.”

  Ethan’s brow creased above his mask. “Where?”

  “Anywhere. It doesn’t matter.”

  Ethan’s frown remained, but he took Isla’s arm, and she led him down the steps, and away from the castle.

  They walked in silence, Ethan’s cane swishing through the long grass that brushed against Isla’s bare calves. Rose bushes sprang up from the earth around them, like gnarled sculptures. In the moonlight, Isla caught a flash of crimson among the thorns and gasped.

  “There are still flowers here.”

  “Aye,” Ethan said quietly.

  “But it’s winter.”

  “There hasnae been a frost yet.”

  Isla pressed a velvet rose petal between her finger and thumb, releasing the soft, sweet scent. She looked up at Ethan, standing silently beside her, the moonlight glinting off his silver mask. Isla reached up and began untying the ribbon holding it in place.

  “Isla, what are you doing?”

  “I want to see you, Ethan.” She lifted the mask from his face, unveiling his true features. His narrow, straight nose, thick, dark eyebrows, lowered into a frown over the maze of silver scars transversing his face, like a map of his past. Isla lifted a hand, hesitantly, and touched the tip of her finger to the thickest of the raised lines. Ethan’s jaw set, but he remained still as she traced her fingertip along the scar, travelling from his cheekbone to his temple. Ethan closed his eyes.

  “I’m sorry for what happened to you. For everything that you lost.”

  Ethan’s eyelids flew open, his sightless gaze searching in the darkness, his dark eyes wide with panic.

  “Isla-” His voice cracked.

  She pressed a fi
nger to his lips. “But I want you to know that it doesn’t change the way I feel about you.”

  Ethan’s lips parted in disbelief, and then his mouth crashed against hers, knocking the breath out of her.

  Ethan kissed her like his life depended on it, like the answer to everything lay in her kiss, and his lips bruised hers in the search for it. He thrust his hands into Isla’s hair, and she fisted hers in the front of his shirt, feeling his heart beating wildly against his chest. From fear, or desire?

  A breeze rippled through the long grass, and Ethan pulled back suddenly, breathing hard. He pulled her against him and cocked his head, listening.

  “What is it?” Isla asked.

  “I thought I heard something.”

  Pressed up against the hard wall of Ethan’s chest, all Isla could hear was the erratic thud of his heartbeat, but she was suddenly aware of how exposed they were out here. Anybody could be watching from any of Rosehill’s darkened windows, or the candlelit terrace, or the dark line of trees in the distance. Isla shivered.

  “We should go back inside.”

  No sooner had the words left Ethan’s mouth, than Isla heard it- footsteps thumping against the soft ground, racing towards them. She whirled around, and saw Ryder burst through the terrace doors, waving frantically and shouting something she couldn’t make out, and closer still, tearing towards them like a bat out of hell, was the devil himself.

  “Connor?”

  “Where?” Ethan said with obvious confusion, but Isla didn’t have time to answer before Connor’s shouts reached them, echoing across the vast empty grounds.

  “You fucking bastard! I’ll kill you myself!”

  Connor was hurtling through the grass towards them, and behind him, Ryder was racing to catch up.

  Isla stepped in front of Ethan protectively, although God only knew what she could do, if Connor’s threat was real.

  “What the-” Ethan looked as bewildered as she felt.

  “You promised me! You fucking promised!” Connor bellowed.

  He was almost upon them now, and Isla could feel the rage emanating from him, and see how he literally shook with anger. She glanced up at Ethan, hoping for a clue as to what the hell was going on, and saw the confusion in his face swiftly give way to realisation, and then something else altogether- heartbreak.

  He gripped Isla’s shoulders, shoving her to the side, just as Connor reached them. “Connor, I swear-” but before he could finish, Connor’s fist shot out, striking Ethan directly on the nose. A fountain of blood sprayed across the front of Ethan’s shirt, and a scream pierced the air. It took Isla a few seconds to realise it had come from her.

  Ethan staggered backwards, guarding his nose with bloodied hands.

  Connor grabbed him by the lapels of his tux. “Did you think I wouldnae find out? Or were ye just hoping it would be too late when I did?” He punched Ethan again, catching him on the chin this time. Ethan’s head cracked backwards, and he spat blood.

  “Stop!” Isla screamed, grabbing at Connor’s suit jacket, trying to yank him backwards, but he swatted her away like a fly, and she stumbled into the rose bush at her back, the thorns snagging her dress, and scratching her skin.

  “Connor!” Ryder’s voice was like thunder as he barrelled down the path. “Stop.” At the sound of Ryder’s voice, Connor hesitated, his fists - smeared with his brother’s blood - were clenched at his sides, his breathing harsh.

  “You promised,” he repeated, only this time Connor sounded like he might cry. He shoved hard against his brother’s chest, and Ethan fell backwards to the ground.

  Finally, Ryder was there, grabbing at Connor’s arms, pinning them behind his back. Connor didn’t resist, he didn’t do anything, other than stare down at his brother, sprawled in the grass, covered in blood.

  Isla rushed over and knelt beside Ethan. “Ethan, are you okay?”

  He looked almost like he hadn’t heard her, but then he nodded. A thin trickle of blood ran from his nostril over his lip, and Isla burst into tears.

  “Connor?” Ryder made his name into a question, and Connor answered with the briefest of nods. Ryder let go of his arms, and Connor threw his hands up behind his head and released a string of profanities into the night.

  Ryder crouched down next to Ethan and touched his arm lightly. “Here, let me help-”

  Ethan ignored him, but got to his feet, swaying slightly. Isla caught Ryder’s eye and was shocked by what she saw. She’d imagined his expression would match hers- confusion, terror, upset...but Ryder only looked overwhelmingly guilty. What the hell was going on?

  Ethan spat blood into the grass at Ryder’s feet. “You told him.”

  Ryder dropped his head. “I had to. After tonight...I didn’t know what you might do, how you might react…”

  “You didnae think about how he’d react?” Ethan wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and gestured vaguely.

  Connor was bent double, his hands on his knees, and Isla thought he might be crying, or retching, or both.

  Isla moved towards him, then stopped abruptly. What was she doing? Connor had attacked Ethan, entirely unprovoked, if she was going to comfort anyone, it should be Ethan...but Ethan didn’t look like he wanted comfort. In fact, he looked like it was the last thing he wanted. If it wasn’t for all the blood, she wouldn’t have even known he was hurt, whereas Connor looked like someone in agony.

  Isla placed a hand tentatively on his Connor’s shoulder. “Are you-”

  He straightened up instantly, and Isla flinched backwards. He’d thrown his mask to the floor, and his face was streaked with tears. Isla swallowed hard.

  “Did you know?” he choked out.

  Know what?

  “No,” Ethan answered for her, his voice hollow.

  As always, Isla was in the dark. She swayed, and suddenly Ryder was beside her, gripping her by the elbow. “Let’s get you inside.”

  Isla allowed herself to be led back towards the castle, away from the rose garden, away from the copper-tang of blood in the night air, and away from the MacRae brothers. She didn’t look back.

  Thirty Six

  “Do you want anything? A drink? A blanket? Bandages?” Ryder offered.

  Isla looked up at him from her seat in the leather armchair. He’d pushed it closer to the study fireplace and immediately set to work making a fire. Now he was standing over her, looking as lost as she felt.

  “Bandages?” she repeated flatly.

  “Your arms are scratched.” Ryder gestured.

  Isla looked down and saw that he was right. Raised red welts covered her bare upper arms. “The roses,” she murmured.

  “What can I do for you?” Ryder’s voice was gentle.

  Isla caught his eye. “You can tell me what’s going on.”

  Ryder sighed heavily, and his shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry Isla. You saw what happened out there. It’s not my place-”

  “Bullshit!”

  Ryder flinched at the venom in her tone, and there was a part of Isla that felt bad for him. After all, it wasn’t Ryder she was angry at, really, was it? It wasn’t even Connor, and his frenzied attack on his brother, or Ethan, and the secrets of his past. Yes, she was mad at them all, but the person she was most furious with was herself. How had she let herself get tangled up in this mess? How had she not seen this coming?

  “Tell me,” Isla demanded.

  Ryder ran a hand over his face. He’d long since lost his mask, and his complexion in the dim study was ashen.

  “And don’t say that you don’t know, because I know you do. You know Ethan better than anyone, and Connor too, I’d bet.”

  Ryder’s head snapped towards her, and she saw the question in his eyes.

  “I saw you,” she said quietly.

  Ryder’s blue eyes rounded, and he sat down heavily in the chair opposite her, the leather creaking in protest. He looked into the fire, and then back at her. “When?”

  So it wasn’t just a one-off. Isla hesitated. If
she told him the truth, then he’d know that she’d been there in the corridor, and she still couldn’t be sure who it had been behind that hideous jester mask. She repressed a shudder. “Does it matter?”

  Ryder exhaled deeply. “I suppose not. Does Connor know that you know?”

  “No.”

  “Ethan?”

  Isla shook her head.

  Ryder nodded slowly. “I wanted to tell him, but Connor said no. He was afraid that if his brother knew about us, he’d feel betrayed somehow. You see, me and Connor, we’re all Ethan has...or we were, until you…”

  Isla met Ryder’s eyes.

  “That’s how…” Ryder hesitated.

  “That’s how you fell in love?” Isla finished. It was so obvious. She didn’t know how she hadn’t seen it before. Maybe because she’d been so wrapped up in matters of her own heart.

  “You know how it is.” Ryder shrugged, but there was nothing casual about the expression on his face, or the emotion behind his words. “You’ve only been here for a few weeks. Connor and I have been here for three years, each of us looking after Ethan in our own way. It was inevitable something would happen, but I think we both thought - I know I thought - that it would be just one of those things. That we’d get it out of our system and move on. Sounds naive I suppose...” Ryder laughed bitterly and shook his head.

  “Actually, I was thinking it sounded all too familiar.” Isla caught Ryder’s eye, and his expression softened.

  She had been naive from the start, Isla realised. Thinking she could come here, and not get swept up in the rumours of Rosehill’s shadowy past, thinking that she could get involved with Ethan MacRae, but guard her heart. Already it felt tender and bruised.

  “What do you think is happening out there?” Isla looked towards the study window. Moonlight sliced through a gap in the heavy curtains. “Shouldn’t you go out? What if they’re hurting each other?”

  “I think they’ve done enough of that for one night.”

  *

  She was being rocked gently, like a rowing boat gliding across a lake…