Lucy looked down at the pen in her hand and what she’d written on the parchment.
I love Duncan Slorach.
She did. She really did love him. She couldn’t say when she’d fallen in love with him. Maybe she’d been falling a little every day for months. But there was no denying she loved him now.
She had the urge to write him immediately and tell him her feelings. Even as she reached for a new sheet of parchment, she knew the thought was ridiculous. She didn’t know where he was, and Uncle Winn might have a fondness for her, but he wouldn’t reveal an agent’s location for such a minor reason. And even if she was able to write to Duncan, what did she think he would say? It wasn’t as though he’d promised to wait for her when they parted. He'd made it clear he wanted something more. She hadn’t been able to give that. Did she think he would sweep her into his arms now that she realized what a fool she’d been?
No. She’d hurt him, and he wanted to move on and heal. She doubted his pride would ever allow him to let her in again. And even if he did still love her, would he trust her feelings? She’d hurt him once. Could he believe she wouldn’t reject him again?
Lucy put her head on the desk. Why had she been such an idiot?
***
“BARON WANTS YOU,” MR. Pistol said after she’d finished shooting at a target and missing two out of five shots. Lucy wanted to blame the rain earlier, but her powder had been dry. She just had bad aim, as always.
At the instructor’s words, the agent-in-training beside her turned to look at her. Lucy did her best to keep her expression neutral. She could think of three reasons Uncle Winn might call for her. One, she was to be called to task for turning her report in late. Two, he was sending her home to visit her parents. Or three—please three—he had another assignment for her.
“Thank you.” Lucy handed the pistol to the instructor and started away. She wanted to leave the Farm more than she wanted anything. Once all she had wanted was to come here to train. Now the memories of Duncan greeted her everywhere she turned. She needed a change of scene if she ever hoped to forget him.
Lucy entered the farmhouse and caught a look at her reflection in the mirror in the vestibule. Her hair was still damp from the rains earlier, and it had plastered itself to her forehead and cheeks. Her simple bun looked like a bird’s nest on the top of her head. Her cheeks looked hollow, her eyes darker than usual. She had to start sleeping more and forcing herself to eat. She’d never lost her appetite before. Usually when she was unhappy, she couldn’t stop eating.
Lucy stuck out a tongue at her reflection and tapped on Uncle Winn’s door. She didn’t wait for his response, just opened it and stepped in. “Hullo. Is this about my...report?”
Lucy blinked. She wasn’t certain if she was imagining him or really seeing him. She’d imagined him every time she turned around, it seemed. But this was too real to be something her mind conjured.
Duncan Slorach turned to look at her then slowly stood. She felt his gaze rake over her and saw his brows crease in concern. She heard Uncle Winn say something, but she couldn’t comprehend it. All she could do was stare at Duncan.
He was looking at her too, and then he was moving. He took her hand and ushered her into a chair close to the fire. She looked up at him, barely noting the blanket that dropped over her shoulders. He moved away, and she wanted to call him back, but he soon returned with a cup of tea—Darjeeling, made just how she liked it.
Damn him!
She was coming back to herself now. “What is all this fuss? Uncle Winn?”
“You were trembling, Lucy. Shaking like a leaf.”
“I was?” She cleared her throat and forced herself to look at Uncle Winn, not Duncan. “I suppose coming inside made me realize how chilled I was after being caught in the rain.”
Uncle Winn’s brows rose.
“You looked like you might faint,” Duncan said.
Lucy reared back, almost spilling her tea. “I’ve never fainted in my life.”
Duncan glanced at Uncle Winn. “She’s feeling better, I think.”
“Yes.” Uncle Winn gestured to the other chair and went to stand by the mantel. “Are you feeling up to another debrief?” he asked. “Now that Mr. Slorach is here, I wanted to go over things with you both together.”
“We can do it later,” Duncan said. “If you want to rest.”
“I’m perfectly—” But Lucy was thinking about the image of herself in the mirror. Why did Duncan have to see her looking her worst? And then she’d been so shocked at coming face-to-face with him, she’d started shaking—not because she was cold but because she was...scared.
It was a feeling she wasn’t entirely familiar with and most definitely made her uncomfortable. But there it was. She was scared because she loved him and when she’d looked into his eyes, there’d been no sign he still felt the same way.
