“My lady, you’re freezing,” Lord Alvi said.
She wrapped her arms around herself and realized how right he was. His eyes narrowed at her in worry, the close attention giving her a heady rush. His own arms were barer than hers, but he radiated heat. A sudden urge to lean into that heat overtook her and she cleared her throat, shaking out her arms. She needed to get a grip on herself.
“I’m fine. I was just about to return to my chambers.” She turned and sensed him following in silence.
As they reached the hall leading to her chambers, Lord Alvi called out. “Lady Wyneth, may I have a moment?”
As always, his voice and attention created a maelstrom in her, causing her body to feel oversensitive. She turned and slowly lifted her eyes from his boots up his muscular legs to the kilt that fell to his knees and then to his strong, wide torso. His face was so masculine and dashing that her breath halted. Soon, soon, this man would be marrying and bedding her cousin and she hoped to the deep seas that she would not always react this way to him.
“What is it?” she breathed out.
Surprisingly, he kept his distance. She felt both disappointment and relief.
“It’s your cousin.”
Wyneth’s senses cleared, and she stood taller. “Aerity? What of her?”
“I fear I’ve . . . failed her. I fear I might always fail her.” He kept his eyes on his hands, turning them over in a nervous gesture, searching them. Wyneth cocked her head as she watched him, floored by his openness. “I’m trying, you see. I’m trying to learn what is expected of me, though I don’t quite agree with the restrictions. Right now . . . I’m trying not to touch you.”
His voice had lowered, and Wyneth hugged her arms around herself again, though she was no longer the least bit cold. When he looked from his hands to her eyes, she dropped her gaze. “Good on you for your efforts.” It came out embarrassingly scratchy. Shame filled her. She shouldn’t feel disappointed by his self-control. This is what was best. She should fullywanthim to keep his hands to himself.
“Aye, well, for what it’s worth, if you truly wish me to leave you alone, my lady . . . I will.”
Now she let herself look into his sincere eyes. She believed he was trying. It made her sad and proud. Her eyes burned, and she nodded.
“Yes, Lord Alvi. That is my wish.” Her words were thick, as if she had to shove each one from her throat.
“So be it.” Lord Alvi swallowed. “And I might reap yourcousin’s wrath for telling you this, but she’s planning something this evening. I think she is going after the Lashed One, Paxton.” Lord Alvi nodded when she gasped. “I don’t agree with her decision, but I will not try to stop her. Perhaps you can try, but I will not.”
Why that little sneak. Would she really leave without a word?
“Thank you,” Wyneth told him. She reached for his hand and squeezed quickly, releasing before his warmth could envelop her. “Thank you for everything.”
He bent at the waist in a shallow bow and turned to leave her. She watched him unabashedly. For all his faults and outlandish behavior, he had unknowingly helped her through the most difficult time of her life. Though she wished she’d never fallen for the man who would become her cousin’s husband, she would always be grateful for the distraction he had provided during those initial weeks and months after Breckon’s death, wrong though it might have been.
She smiled sadly while he disappeared from sight. Things were changing. Everyone around her seemed to be moving on, moving forward, and yet she felt . . . stuck. Wyneth looked down at the drab mourning garb she’d been wearing for nearly half a year. Breckon wasn’t coming back. The thought hit her with enough force to make her grab the doorframe. Once she’d taken several steadying breaths, she reached for her heavy cloak, pulling it around her shoulders.
And then her feet were moving.
She didn’t let herself think about where she was goinguntil she was through the castle doors and halfway down the path. Inside, she trembled. She did not want to do this. She’d vowed to herself never to return to that place of her nightmares, yet her feet continued to take her forward. She clutched her cloak tighter against a gust of wind.
She took a fork in the path to the left. It was a less trodden path that had become overgrown over the fall when there were so many other areas of importance to tend. She crunched through piles of leaves and pine needles, past trees with brittle branches. Wyneth’s feet halted at the sight of the long wooden dock. Her eyes trailed down the planks of wood until landing at the end.
The last time she’d seen it, it had glistened with dark blood, which she braced herself to see again. But it was only wood. Nature had washed all traces of Breckon’s death away. She knew instinctively that seeing it from afar was not enough. If she was to move forward, she needed to be at that spot one last time, to confront the fear and loss that held her captive.You must do this, she told herself.
Wyneth moved like an old woman, slowly, as if her bones protested. Her body fought against each step, remembering the horrors. She pressed through the last of the trees, over the brush, closing her eyes against the chilling breeze from the creek as she pushed into the open space.
She was cold and alone, so alone, walking down that dock—a complete turnaround from the last time she’d walked it, when she’d been on Breckon’s arm, her heart full, her bodywarm and at ease. As bouts of panic threatened to rise, she repeated the mantra to herself over and over:You’re fine, you’re safe, you’re strong.
When she made it to the edge, she fell to her knees and hesitantly pressed her hands against the wood, moving her fingers over the grooves. Not a single trace of him. Her tears hit the dock, leaving small, dark droplets like rain. Wyneth raised her head, staring out at the spot where he’d pushed her in, and the line of the creek where she’d swum to the dock at the other side. All the while, she pushed down her panic, her instinct to run from that place.
“I miss you, Breck. I’ll always miss you.” She stared down at the wood where he’d laid her back and kissed her. Wyneth wiped her eyes. “Please forgive me for what happened with Lord Alvi. Forgive me for my need to move on. My heart . . .” She sucked in a breath and wiped her eyes again. “I want to hold on to you forever, but it hurts to mourn you still.”
She could almost feel Breckon’s warm embrace, his confident smile, telling her he could not be angry. That she needn’t grieve forever. That it was all right to live.
A light snap echoed over the water from the woods, and Wyneth stopped breathing. She peered up, heart pounding, and saw the shaded form of a man leaning against a tree, watching her.Breckon!An involuntary sound of disbelief rose from her throat. And then the figure moved, stepping out.
Harrison. Oh, seas.She pressed a hand to her chest. He was so very like Breckon in his physique and stature. Her pulsewas still racing as he made his way down the length of the dock, squatting to face her with concern in his eyes.
