by Bree Wolf
As the blood drained from her face, Henrietta stared at the tall woman with the strong hands and sharp eyes. “How?” she gasped.
Another indulgent smile came to Lady Brunwood’s face. “I told ye, Dear.”
“You saw me…and my parents?” Unable to comprehend what was happening, Henrietta shook her head, feeling as though the ground had been yanked out from under her.
“Only glimpses and emotions.”
Henrietta swallowed, trying to shake off the sense of dread that always settled over her at the memory of her parents. “Then you know why people cannot be trusted.”
“That day, all those years ago,” Lady Brunwood began, “ye lost more than yer parents. Ye learnt a lesson, a lesson so cruel that it crippled ye in the worst way. Ye didna lose trust in the people around ye, but in yerself.” Thick tears came to Henrietta’s eyes. “Ye do not trust yerself to judge people correctly, to see when someone is dishonest, when someone seeks to do ye harm, and so ye distrust everyone in order to keep yerself safe.” Lady Brunwood softly squeezed Henrietta’s hand, her eyes holding neither judgement nor disappointment but compassion and understanding instead. “My son seeks to gain yer trust. He believes that if he proves himself to ye again and again, ye will come to see that he is indeed true to his word and eventually place yer trust in him. But I know that willna happen unless ye learn to trust in yerself again.”
A sob tore from her throat as tears ran down her cheeks, and Henrietta buried her face in her hands.
“Do not be ashamed,” her mother-in-law sought to comfort her. “Ye’re a strong woman, but the fears within ye were born that day and have ruled ye ever since.” A wrinkled hand settled under her chin, and Henrietta looked up, meeting her mother-in-law’s eyes. “Yer mother betrayed ye that day. She knew even better than ye did that yer father couldna be trusted, and yet, she didna act. She didna have it in her to fight. We’re not all the same. Ye are not yer mother. Know that. Believe that. And should the need ever arise, trust yerself to act and do as she could not.” A smile touched her lips. “I do. I trust ye.”
“But you don’t even know me,” Henrietta sobbed, wiping away the tears that kept flowing.
“I can see the woman ye are,” Lady Brunwood insisted, “and I trust myself to see what is and not what I fear or hope might be.” Brushing a lock from Henrietta’s face, the older woman smiled. “There. Now get yerself to bed and rest for ye’ve earned it like never before. Sleep, and if ye need to speak, come and find me, and I’ll tell ye the truth.”
“Thank you,” Henrietta whispered as Lady Brunwood walked toward the door. “Thank you.”
“Ye’re welcome, my dear,” her mother-in-law said, a devoted smile on her face. “After all, ye’re family now. Ye’ll never be alone again, and when the day comes that ye can truly believe that, ye’ll know how strong ye truly are.”
As the door closed behind her mother-in-law, Henrietta stared in amazement before her eyelids once more grew heavy, and she lay down on the bed.
Ye’re not alone. Her husband had told her the same thing, but she had not believed him.
Maybe one day, she would.
Chapter Fifteen − A Call to Arms
When Henrietta awoke the next morning, her head throbbed painfully, and yet, her heart felt a little lighter. Never before had she shared her pain with anyone, not the way she had shared it with her mother-in-law. Still surprised to have judged the seemingly reserved woman so wrongly, Henrietta recalled her counsel.
Had she truly lost trust in herself?
Closing her eyes, Henrietta shook her head. She could not be certain. The emotions that coursed through her chest had been with her all her life. Fear. Suspicion. Doubt. Had there ever been anything else?
Only when she slipped from the bed did Henrietta remember that her husband had not come to bed the night before, and she could not help but wonder if his mother’s counsel had had anything to do with it or if he had acted of his own accord. Did he truly desire her trust? Did he deserve it? Or would she one day come to regret trusting him?
As Henrietta brushed out what remained of her hair, she cringed at the sight of her reddened eyes in the mirror. People would stare and wonder; she had no doubt. What would they think?
A slight tingle went over her as though a warm breeze had touched her skin before the sound of her husband’s voice reached her ears. “I trust ye slept well.”
Somehow she had known he was there. Although he moved stealthily like a wildcat, Henrietta often sensed his approach; at least, when she was not too caught up in her own emotions.
Turning to face him, she met his eyes. “I did. Thank you.”
He nodded in acknowledgement, and she could see the questions that plagued him in his eyes. However, he did not ask them, but merely stepped forward, drawing her dagger from his overcoat. “I promised I’d return it to ye on the morrow,” he reminded her, holding out the small blade.
When Henrietta reached out her hand to take it, his hand seemed to tighten around the hilt and he met her eyes. “Promise me that ye will never hurt yerself.”
Holding his gaze, Henrietta was surprised at the sense of honest sincerity that rang in his voice. However, the very moment she felt herself respond, her inner demons spoke up, trying to convince her that he was lying, pretending, scheming. Of course, he had an ulterior motive; one day, he would reveal it, and then it would be too late for her to protect herself from him.
How often had she heard her demons whisper warnings like these? How often had they been able to persuade her to distrust someone?
Henrietta swallowed, then rose to her feet and stepped toward him, desperately trying to shut out the voices in her head that shouted at her to turn back. Holding his gaze, Henrietta took a deep breath and then nodded. “I promise.”
A soft curl came to his lips as he gently placed the dagger in her hand. “Good.” For a moment, his eyes remained on her face before he stepped back. “Would ye like to ride out again today, Lass? Or would ye rather I leave ye alone?”
A soft tremble seized Henrietta as her fears once more battled her desires. Had it always been like this? She wondered. Never before had she been so consciously aware of the war constantly raging within her. “I…” She swallowed, then took a deep breath…and averted her eyes. “I think I’d rather be alone.”
“Very well,” he said, a hint of disappointment in his voice. “Call for me if ye change yer mind, Lass.”
When the door closed behind him, Henrietta sank back into the chair, feeling weaker than she had in a long time. Doubt swept through her, and not the kind of doubt of which she was accustomed. She knew what it felt like to doubt those around her: their motives, their agendas, the truth of their words. However, now she found herself doubting her own judgement. Had her mother-in-law been correct? Or had her kind words been a clever manipulation so that Henrietta would let down her guard and…? And what? What good would it do them to gain her trust? After all, she was in no position of power.
Quite the contrary.
Burying her face in her hands, Henrietta sighed. Was she losing her mind? Seeing enemies where in truth there were none?
As her world came crashing down around her, Henrietta retreated into herself. She spent day after day sitting in her chamber, remembering all the people she had met in her life and how she had judged them. Again and again, she recalled situations in all detail. Had the look in their eyes betrayed their actions? Had the ring in their voices matched their words? Had she been wrong to judge them so harshly? Or had she been wise to do so?
How often had her father apologised to her mother, swearing that he loved her and that only the liquor had made him beat her? Remembering his eyes, Henrietta knew that he had been lying. Although she did not believe in much, deep down, she knew with every fibre of her being that love had it resided in his heart would have stopped his hand, for it would have hurt him too much to witness his wife in pain. However, it had not; therefore, his proclamations of love had been
lies.
Next, her uncle’s face rose before her eyes, and although Henrietta had never witnessed any physical abuse towards her aunt, she had seen countless times with what disregard he had always looked at her, spoken to her. He valued neither her presence in his household nor her opinions and thoughts. At the same time, her aunt did her best to excuse and explain his behaviour, hoping that one day she would believe the lies she told herself.
Then, there was Tristan.
For a moment, Henrietta closed her eyes and took a deep breath, afraid what she would find if she looked closer. Was her brother too much like their father? Is that why she had not asked for his help when her uncle had forced this marriage on her? Had she been afraid he would turn from her? But would he have?
Tristan had always been impulsive, a bit of a hot-head. He made rash decisions; therefore, he often suffered unexpected consequences. Countless times, their uncle had berated him for being careless, for allowing his temper to get the better of him and circumvent his rational mind. Aware of his parents’ past, Tristan had always flinched when compared to his late father. Had he feared his uncle’s accusations to be true? Did he doubt himself as much as Henrietta doubted herself?
Rubbing her temples, Henrietta paced the room, picturing her brother through the years as he had grown from a helpless infant into a man. But what kind of a man was he? What did she truly think and not fear he had become?
Henrietta could not tell, and that thought scared her more than anything ever had.
He was her brother, and she loved him, and yet, she could not place her trust in him. She couldn’t be certain he would stand by her no matter what.
After two weeks locked in her chamber, Henrietta felt the sudden need to breathe fresh air, and so she hesitantly walked down the corridor and proceeded downstairs. As expected, all eyes turned to her, and whispers rose into the sudden silence.
Keeping her head up, Henrietta crossed the great hall and slipped out the side entrance. She walked down the cobblestone path to the other side of the rose garden and squeezed herself through the minuscule gap in the hedge.
The small green oasis welcomed her with open arms. A soft breeze caressed her neck−now freed from the heavy burden of her long tresses−and the sweet fragrance that danced on the air tickled her nose as though trying to wake her from the nightmare that had held her trapped for so long.
Breathing in deeply, Henrietta slipped off her shoes and stockings and walked the small space, enjoying the soft, cooling earth under her feet. She felt the warmth of the sun’s early rays on her chilled skin and marvelled at the clear, blue sky overhead.
All her senses picked up little wonders: they saw, tasted and smelled. Henrietta felt as though she was being born again. Her heart and head felt light, untroubled, and for a moment, she closed her eyes revelling in a sense of balance that washed over her.
“Ye look different.”
Henrietta’s eyes snapped open, and she spun around.
Grinning sheepishly, Deidre shrugged her shoulders. “I’m sorry for startling ye.” Rising from the small boulder resting in the far corner by the outer wall, Deirdre stepped toward her, her warm eyes searching Henrietta’s face. “I was worried about ye. Ye’ve kept to yer room for a long time.”
Taking a deep breath, Henrietta nodded. “I…I don’t know how to explain,” she finally admitted, wondering if she truly didn’t or if she did not trust Deidre to know the thoughts that plagued her.
“’Tis quite all right,” the slender woman said, her eyes sweeping over Henrietta’s short hair. “I rather like what ye did there. It is quite unusual, but it suits ye.”
Reaching to touch the tips of her strands, Henrietta smiled self-consciously. “I did it to make him see that…” She shrugged as the thoughts began to hammer in her head.
“I know,” Deidre said. Then she stepped forward and took Henrietta’s hand. “It didna work though, did it?”
Henrietta shook her head.
“He cares for ye,” Deidre said, a shimmer of recognition in her brilliant eyes. “I’ve known him all my life, and I’ve never seen him look at a woman the way he looks at ye.”
Withdrawing her hands, Henrietta stepped back as shivers ran down her back and the ground under her feet felt like a block of ice. “I need to go,” she whispered, and snatching her stockings and shoes from the grass, she turned and left, ignoring the look of disappointment on Deidre’s face.
Like a wave, the voices in her head returned. Gone was the peaceful silence that had engulfed her before.
Deidre meant well, and yet, her words laced with her own hopes and wishes had only served to remind Henrietta that everyone had an agenda, that everyone wanted something, that no one was free from desire.
Her uncle wanted her out of his house. Her aunt wanted a comfortable life. Her brother wanted…Henrietta couldn’t be certain what he wanted.
Her husband wanted…her trust. Her mother-in-law wanted her to trust herself. Deidre wanted her to open her heart to her husband. Alastair wanted her to stay away from his wife. Moira wanted…Again, Henrietta couldn’t be certain. However, what plagued her most were not the desires that ruled those in her life. What plagued her most was that she didn’t know why.
Why had her uncle been so desperate to rid himself of her? Why had her husband chosen her for his bride? Why had Deidre encouraged her to place her trust in Connor?
Again, Henrietta’s demons raged within her heart and mind, and their deafening voices echoed through her body. Try as she might, she could not silence them, and so Henrietta slipped her stockings and shoes back on, ignoring the dirt that still clung to her feet, and rushed from the rose garden.
Crossing the courtyard, she did not see the stares that stalked her. Neither did she hear the whispers that followed as she kept her attention on the stable across the yard. Slipping inside, she quickly located Kerr, threw a bridle and saddle on her and then mounted the spirited mare.
As though sensing Henrietta’s emotional state, Kerr danced nervously, her hooves moving to an innate rhythm that only she understood, and the second, Henrietta loosened the reins, she shot forward.
Startled, a stable boy jumped out of the way as they passed through the large door, and again, people stopped and stared as the tall mare raced across the courtyard toward the outer gate, Henrietta clinging to her back, her eyes fixed on the horizon in the distance.
Once free of the stone walls keeping her trapped in a life she had not chosen, Henrietta felt her body relax. Flattening herself to Kerr’s neck, she allowed the mare to take her where she wished, for once surrendering control not because she was forced to but because she chose to.
The wind whipped in her face and tore at her dress, and Henrietta’s heart soared. Again, she could feel the warm rays of the sun touching her skin, and the smell of the nearing forest, earthy and warm, tickled her nose. Slowly, the voices in her head began to quiet, and a warm silence returned to her heart.
Maybe she was not fit to live among people. Maybe she ought to keep riding and not return.
The scent in the air changed, and Henrietta tasted a hint of salt on it.
Urging Kerr on, she proceeded onward, guiding the mare toward the tree line and along a well-trodden path. The smell of pine and conifer hung in the air, momentarily blocking out the clean, salty tang of the sea. However, when Henrietta left the forest behind and continued on across the grassy plains, the scent of the ocean returned, guiding her onward.
The wind grew stronger, and Henrietta squinted her eyes, keeping them fixed on the horizon where sky met earth. As she flew onward, Henrietta glimpsed large boulders dotting the cliff as though an ancient castle had once stood there, its crumbled stones now overgrown with moss.
Kerr slowed, her flanks heaving with exertion, and Henrietta straightened in the saddle, stretching her own weary limbs as her eyes swept over the sight before her.
The ruins occupied the highest point on the cliff, after which the land fell away and the o
cean rumbled in the deep. Sea gulls circled in the sky, occasionally diving down to catch fish, and a strong wind carried with it the scents of the world.
Slipping her feet out of the stirrups, Henrietta dropped to the ground, her eyes fixed on the edge. She released Kerr’s reins and walked on, rounding the ruins, until she approached the edge of the cliff, her heart hammering in her chest. A deafening roar reached her ears from down below as the waves crashed against the rock wall, and its force made Henrietta shiver. Never before had she felt as small and helpless as she did now in the presence of these natural forces.
Glancing over the edge, she watched the waves as they rolled in from the sea, their waters travelling the world, free and unconfined.
Although the height made her skin crawl, Henrietta sank to the ground a mere arm’s length from the edge. Her eyes drank in the sight as the wind continued to tug at her hair and her dress, its strong breath chilling her skin and stinging her eyes.
And yet, Henrietta did not move, and for a long time, she simply sat there and felt the world around her while her demons slept, allowing her a moment of peace.
Chapter Sixteen − A Weakness Revealed
Hours had passed since his wife had left the castle in a frenzy as though the devil had been behind her. Hours since he had been alerted to her rushed departure. Hours since he had gone after her, afraid of what she might do if he did not find her in time.
Where could she have gone? She was not familiar with these parts. He had already searched the area around the castle as well as the clearing where they had fenced, however, without luck.
Entering the forest, Connor spotted hoof-prints in the soft ground and hurried onward. Judging from their depths, he guessed that she had not slowed down, but instead raced through the forest the same way she had left the castle. He could only hope that she had not been thrown at such a break-neck speed.
Allowing his gelding free reins, Connor scanned his surroundings, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. However, it wasn’t until he had left the forest behind and proceeded toward the old castle ruins that he detected movement on the horizon.