“None that I can think of,” Cleo answered, thinking of her father’s arms around her in comfort any time that she had fallen or gotten hurt. He had gone out of his way to be as loving a father as he could in the absence of her mother’s loving presence.
“King Arthur and Guinevere certainly had a doomed love, but that was by their choice. It was nae made o’ sacrifice, though they certainly suffered the consequences for it. Your mother and father, however, paid the ultimate sacrifice born o’ the truest love. Yer faither was forced tae endure the greatest pain short o’ losing a child that any man can endure when he lost yer maither, a pain akin tae that o’ swallowing fire for a love that was doomed tae end in heartbreak, nae by choice, but by fate.”
Tears were now streaming down Cleo’s cheeks. “This is cruel,” she whispered in anguish.
“Aye, it is cruel, and I am sorry for it, but I truly believe that in spite o’ yer faither’s method o’ going about it, this is his way o’ telling ye that he loved ye more than life itself. Ye were yer faither’s greatest treasure. Ye were his Excalibur. Ye were born of a doomed love in the fires o’ more pain than anyone should ever be forced tae endure, and yet ye both found a way tae survive together. He did nae hide the truth from ye because it meant more tae him than ye. He hid the truth from ye, tae protect ye until the time were tae come when ye were ready tae take up the fiery sword for yerself.”
“How can this be?”
“Because ye are worthy, lass, and yer faither kenned it. Whatever lies at the end o’ this road, whether it be yer faither’s killer or another truth entirely, ye should ken that it has all been about his love for ye and his respect for the lass that ye have become.”
Unable to take the emotional strain a moment longer, Cleo dissolved into deep gulping sobs of anguish and longing. She longed for the parents of whom she had been deprived. She longed for the life that she had been denied. She longed for the truth to be revealed. She longed for the pain to go away. Above all, she longed to feel the warm glow of someone she loved and by whom she was loved in return. Falling into Arthur’s strong masculine embrace, she sobbed into his shirt as he held her against his hard-muscled chest.
“I do not understand why it had to be this way! It did not have to be this way!” Cleo cried out as much to God as she did to Arthur.
“I dinnae ken, lass, but it is, and there is nae that can be done about it but attempt tae honor yer faither’s memory and tae take care o’ yerself as yer faither wished ye tae do so.” Arthur rubbed her back in an effort to calm the tumultuous storm within her mind and heart.
Cleo look up into Arthur’s eyes. Every aspect of her being felt lost and afraid, but for the first time since her father’s passing, she did not feel alone. Somehow in his explanation of why he thought the riddles were more personal than they had originally thought, she had come to an odd sense of acceptance, not only of her father’s choices and the pain that they had brought her, but also of her heart’s need to have a companion, and her heart had chosen Arthur MacDonald.
Arthur must have seen the change in her eyes, as something flickered behind his own, and he bent his head taking her lips with his own. What started as a gentle kiss of comfort, turned into a fiery passion born from all the pain, anger, fear, and love she held within her mind and heart. The encounter was so passionate, that had Mrs. McGrath not knocked on the study door, interrupting them, Cleo was not entirely certain that she would not have done something entirely inappropriate for a maiden of her modest social standing.
Separating herself from Arthur’s embrace, Cleo arose to open the door. “There ye are, lass. I have brought ye some tea.” Mrs. McGrath bustled in, but taking note of Cleo’s tear-stained disheveled state, she quickly put down the tea tray and turned her attention back to her beloved charge. “What had happened, lass? Did ye find something upsetting?” She produced a handkerchief for Cleo to wipe her face with.
“Nay, I simply cannot seem to cease from mourning that which has been lost.”
“Aye, I understand, lass. Here, ye are in a terrible state,” the cook clucked sympathetically and led Cleo back over to her chair behind the desk. “Let me poor ye a cup o’ tea. That will set things tae rights.”
Cleo smiled slightly at the cook’s words.If only it were as simple as that. If only a nice hot cup of tea could truly set everything right. It would be a powerful thing, a tea that could raise the dead and remove the evil and suffering from the world.
“Here then, lass, drink this,” Mrs. McGrath instructed, handing Cleo the promised tea.
Though it did not set everything to rights as Mrs. McGrath had so sweetly intended, it did help to calm her chaotic state of mind. Cleo drank slowly allowing the warm liquid to calm her senses and bring the present back into perspective. “Thank you, Mrs. McGrath. Tea was just the thing.”
“I kenned that it would be,” Mrs. McGrath smiled. She proceeded to hand each of them a plate of strawberry scones and refilled Cleo’s cup of tea. “Now eat and gather your strength. I will want that explanation that ye both promised me afore yer Auntie Caroline returns home. We need to be o’ one mind about what ye intend tae tell her about all o’ this.” Mrs. McGrath waved her hand at the damaged wall.
“I understand and we will, just not this moment,” Cleo promised.
“Aye, I will wait, but dinnae think that I will forget.”
“Of course not,” Cleo smiled at her with affection and the cook patted her hand in sympathy.
“Ye have enough troubles as it is.”
“Upon that I believe we can all agree,” Cleo murmured, turning to glare at the mural of King Arthur upon the wall as if the entire ordeal was his fault.
“A braw lad is he nae, this King Arthur,” Mrs. McGrath gestured at the image. “He reminds me a bit o’ our young Earl here.”
Arthur snorted in amusement. “I did nae pose for the artist, o’ that I can promise ye.”
The thought of Arthur caused Cleo’s memory to jump back to what they had just been doing before Mrs. McGrath entered the room.I kissed Arthur!I kissed Arthur,she thought more calmly this time, and most certainly more calmly than she actually felt in her body about it. Her entire being felt as if it had come alive when he had held her in his arms. It was as if she had been struck by lightning, and instead of it killing her, it had enlivened every fiber of her being from the inside out. Her heart thrummed in fevered excitement at the memory of his lips upon her own.
“Ye are flushed, lass. Do ye have a fever?” Mrs. McGrath asked coming to place her hand on Cleo’s forehead in concern.
“Nay, I am simply warm from the tea,” Cleo denied, unwilling to speak about what she and Arthur had just been doing while he was still sitting there in front of her.
“Aye, well, it is working then. Nothing better tae chase away the cold and shock than that.” Having fulfilled her duties, Mrs. McGrath returned to the kitchen, leaving Arthur and Cleo to their own devices once more.
“The tae is it?” Arthur teased, his eye’s twinkling merriment at her obvious state of discomfort.
