“I dinnae ken, lass, but I wish for both o’ our sakes that I did. Yer faither kept secrets from ye, from us both, but I dinnae doubt for a moment that he cared for ye, for us, and that it is that loving care that has led us tae where we stand, here together in the shadow o’ his ghost. I feel his guiding hand even now and I ken that he is watching over ye every step o’ the way.”
Cleo looked up at him with tears in her eyes. It took all of her strength not to give in to the grief that threatened to consume her. She knew that Arthur was right, but that did not keep her from feeling bitter resentment and even a sense of betrayal. The man that she loved, respected, and adored was dead, leaving nothing but questions and pain in his wake.And lovely memories of a lifetime with the most wonderful father a child could ever have asked for, she reminded herself gently.Oh, Papa…
Cleo dissolved into a fit of tears reaching out to clutch at Arthur’s shirt in her distress. It was as if the floodgates of pain had opened and released the full weight of their power upon her. Tears streamed down in uncontrolled torrents as Arthur pulled her into his arms to sob against his chest. Cleo could feel herself soaking his shirt through to the skin, but she could not have stopped crying at that moment if her reputation had depended upon it.
Arthur held her silently without judgement or restraint. He fully enveloped her into his arms and held her up with a strength that went far beyond mere physical muscle. The strength of his soul reached out and encircled her just as much as his arms did and her soul, in turn, reached out for his. She could feel the moment overtaking them in whispery hesitant tendrils at first, then as a fortifying bolster that gave new hope to her heart.
“I am here, lass, and I will nae leave ye tae face this difficulty alone. I swear it.”
Cleo lifted her tear-stained face up to look into his eyes and found truth shining out behind his own sheen of tears. He lifted his hand up to caress the wetness from her cheeks gently and she leaned into his palm, drawing comfort from his skin upon her own. As she stood in the circle of Arthur’s arms, she could not help but feel a sense of home, of belonging, that had eluded her since her father’s death.
She felt drawn to him in an inexplicable way that had her wishing to rend her carefully constructed curtain of cautionary reserve and allow him to see into the fullest depths of her soul. “Arthur, I…” she began but found that she could not form the words. They evaded her with an ethereal beauty that resembled that of a will-o’-the-wisp.
“Aye, lass, I feel it tae.” And with that he bent and claimed her lips with his own.
The world spun around them, all the quiet noises of the night fading away into nothingness. Arthur tasted of Scottish whisky and smoke with undertones of honeyed vanilla and cinnamon. Cleo leaned into the kiss drinking from his lips as a holy pilgrim starved of everything good in life. It was unlike anything that she had ever felt before and her mind felt as it might shatter into a thousand pieces before it would ever begin to understand the true depth of the moment. Overwhelmed, she pulled away.
“Cleo, lass,” Arthur breathed against her skin as he pressed his forehead to hers. “Ye have lit a fire inside o’ me that will ne’er go out. Ye have lit an eternal flame in my soul that will ne’er be extinguished by either life or death. Tae hold ye in my arms, tae kiss ye, it is as if I have swallowed the sun and my body kens nae how tae contain the delight and power of its passions.”
Cleo looked up at him and felt her heart trip in her chest.“…for doomed love he swallowed fire,”she murmured softly.
“Aye, but must it be doomed, lass?”
Cleo shook her head and bent to pick up the piece of paper that had fallen to the floor forgotten in their shared moment of heartbroken abandon. “It is part of the riddle,” she answered, thrusting it into the dim light of the candle.
“Aye, it is well kenned the love that King Arthur held for his Guinevere and the pain that she and Lancelot’s betrayal brought tae him. I dinnae ken how that helps us tae solve the riddle. it is clear that yer faither kenned the feeling of true love for yer maither or he would ne’er have been able tae write o’ it with such understanding, but it does nae bring us any closer to the answers.”
“I know, Arthur, but I cannot help but feel that we are on the precipice of something here and that love is going to be the thing that leads us to the answer.”
“If anyone can find a way, it will be ye, lass. I ken it tae my verra bones.” He moved to close the space between them once more, but Cleo took a step back. “What is it, lass?”
“I cannot,” she shook her head in denial.
“Ye cannae what? Love me? It is tae late for that is it nae? I ken well enough that if ye did nae feel the same as I do for ye, that ye would nae have kissed me with such a fiery passion. That kiss was the verra thing that bards and poets have been writing about for centuries.”
Cleo could not argue with that, but she could not, would not, allow herself to weaken her resolve. “I cannot allow myself to love anyone, or be happy with anyone, as long as my father’s killer runs free. I have not the first clue as to who murdered him and for all I know you could be the killer.”
“What?” Arthur breathed, taking a step back in disbelief at her words. Her distrust of him stabbed through his heart as if she had thrust Excalibur there with her own hands. “Ye cannae be serious.”
“I am and I will not rest until I have found the answers.”
“Ye cannae truly believe that I would ever be capable o’ doing such a thing?”
“In spite of what just happened between us and my asking for your aid in solving the mystery of my father’s death, I actually know very little about you. Anyone I pass on the street could be the killer and you were the first person to pay call after.”
“By that reasoning, it could be Mrs. McGrath or yer Aunt Caroline, for I would be just as likely as they tae commit such a horrendous deed. By that reasoning, ye should nae be staying in Dustshore’s house as ye now stand, a choice I still dinnae understand.”
“Be that as it may, I cannot, will not trust anyone fully until I have found the answers. When I look at you, I do not see a killer, but when I looked at my father, I did not see his secrets either. Until I am certain of the answers, I refuse to invest my heart in anyone, especially not someone who can blind me so readily as you just did. I cannot think straight when you touch me, and I need to be able to think clearly and objectively.”
The look of shock and pain that crossed Arthur’s features nearly made Cleo change her mind. He had rattled her to her core, and it had frightened her beyond reason. She had never lost control of herself as she had in that shared kiss, suspended somewhere between the hell that the earth had become for her and the heaven that awaited with elicit promise were she to completely surrender to the invitation of his arms.
“Cleo, please, dinnae do this. Dinnae deny what we just shared.”
“I must. You may aid me in my quest to find my father’s murderer but that is where our relationship must begin and end.”
“What we just shared goes far beyond heartbreak and lies. It transcends the realms o’ sin and deceit. The touching o’ souls is something tae be embraced and treasured, nae tae be denied or squandered away on an altar o’ distrust and false accusation. I did nae kill yer faither and deep in yer heart, ye ken that. Why must ye deny it?”
“Because I must. If you cannot further aid me in my quest, I will understand in light of what has transpired this night.” Cleo averted her eyes, unable to bear the pain shining out from his blue depths.
