“I know not of what you are inferring,” Cleo denied and turned her attention back to the plate of scones in her hand.
They ate in silence for some time, each lost in their own thoughts of what had transpired between them might mean for their friendship and their future. It had been Cleo who had insisted that they remain friends only. Now she had gone and broken that by kissing him.
What am I supposed to do now? Admit that I love him? I think not!Coming out and admitting her feelings seemed utterly counterintuitive to what they were attempting to accomplish.What if he does not feel the same way and it changes how we are forever?
“I love ye, lass,” Arthur’s voice broke into her thoughts and could read them as clearly as if she had written them down on the paper in front of them.
Cleo’s eyes widened in surprise as she looked up to meet his. “Why?”
Chapter 22
It was not the reaction that Cleo would have liked to have had, but it was an honest one. She could not fathom how a man of his station could justify such feelings for someone not born into the nobility; the nobility married within their own social sphere, not below it. She had been just as mystified by the Earl of Dustshore’s attentions.
Arthur chuckled in amusement at her question. “Why nae?”
“You are an Earl.”
“Aye, I am,” he nodded.
“You are a nobleman.”
“Aye, I am,” he nodded again.
Cleo stared at him as if he should know better. “Yes, you are,” she answered pointedly. “I am not.”
“I should hope nae, or we might have a harder time explaining our love tae yer aunt.” His eyes snapped with amusement.
“Arthur,” Cleo scolded him, “you know what I am saying.”
“Aye, I ken what ye are saying, but it does nae matter tae me. Such things have ne’er, nor will they ever matter tae me.”
“It is not the proper time for such matters,” Cleo argued with herself as much as she argued with him.
“Is there ever a proper time for love?”
Cleo opened her mouth to answer but found that she did not know what to say. There was no guarantee that they would ever find her father’s murderer or stop searching for the answers to the riddles her father left her.Can I allow myself to love when my heart is filled with so much pain?
Cleo turned toward the image of King Arthur and could hear her father’s warning.‘Do not fall prey to Guinevere’s fate…’Cleo thought about Aunt Caroline’s explanation of dying alone, which was not a fate that she wished to share.
Know your own heart, Cleo Wallace, and follow it with courage and conviction,she firmly admonished herself.
Arthur leaned forward and place a hand upon hers. “I will be here when ye are ready, lass. I simply needed tae tell ye how I felt. I wish for our relationship tae be built on trust and honesty, nothing less. Yer faither’s dying legacy has made me tae realize the importance o’ such things. Dinnae rush in yer answer tae me, I can and will wait until ye are ready, nae matter how much time it takes.”
“Thank you,” she whispered and blushed, realizing how well he had been able to read her. She nodded her acceptance and they turned back to the papers upon the desk to continue their investigation and end the awkward moment between them in a positive and productive way.
* * *
Arthur sat across from Cleo and slowly unclenched his muscles. He had not realized that he had been holding his body so stiffly until Cleo had turned away from him.She did nae say nae, but she did nae say that she shared my feelings either. Tae nae be refused outright is progress.He decided to let the matter go for the time being, but in his mind, it was far from over. Even if it took the rest of his life, he would convince Cleo of his love and trustworthiness.
Turning back to the translation of the most recent riddle, Arthur resumed his explanation behind his theory that the riddle was about her and her family, far more than it was about King Arthur’s.I only hope that I am right and am nae leading her down the wrong path.
“Now, as I was explaining before, with this last riddle, which we found beneath King Arthur’s feet, we have the connection of fire again with the added component of light. I am nae quite certain how this fits into the narrative, but the last two are indisputably about motherhood or childbearing, and true love. This fits yer faither and mother far more than it ever could King Arthur and his wife.”
Cleo frowned, clearly unable to see what the ancient runes before them could possibly have to do with her parents. “That is all well and good, but where does that leave us? I do not see the connection to anything that is of use or even the slightest bit helpful. Perhaps we are once again on the wrong road?”
Arthur sat looking at the mural on the wall. He shook his head. “They have a purpose. They mean something, otherwise Henry would nae have hidden them in a painting like this. I dinnae ken what the reason is yet, but there is a reason. Yer faither would nae send ye on a wild chase without a purpose.” He turned his gaze back to the symbols written out on the sheet of paper. “Perhaps I am wrong. Perhaps it means something else entirely, but I dinnae see the connection between these runes and King Arthur. I only see them within yer own family.”
“Perhaps the third rune does not mean childbearing in this particular sense. Perhaps it simply means something that is motherly, or womb-like, a safe place, a hiding place?” Cleo spoke with a tone of voice as if she had not meant to do so aloud but had been thinking privately to herself.
