by Eva Devon
“What?” Kate demanded. He never mentioned his wife’s death or really any of his life before they’d met. But like so many things she’d blithely ignored in marrying Ryder, she was becoming fully aware.
“I beg your pardon, Your Grace, but I’m betraying confidences. I cannot tell you more.”
“I understand.” Though she longed to ask more questions regarding his father’s death, they should be questions for her husband. Questions he most likely did not wish her to ask. “Is there no way to bring him out of this?”
“Not that I’ve seen. It used to be right brutal the first two years after her death. Now, we just wait and see. But I’m sure it won’t be so bad, what with you here. He cares about your happiness. He comes out of his room in the mornings.”
And she was supposed to find that heartening? “How long will it last?”
“Oh, at this time of year?” Grieves smiled, attempting cheer. “The worst of it is over by the fall.”
“The fall?” Her voice grew tight and she could barely get the words out. Almost three months. Three months of Ryder in pain. No, she wouldn’t allow it. There had to be something to be done.
And she would find it. Life was too short for him to waste it in such self-recrimination. The Ryder she knew would never harm anyone. No, he would lay down his heart, his soul, his body to help them.
She wouldn’t let them go on in silent pain like this. No, it was time for him to share his past. With her.
Chapter 24
Kathryn, as so many invariably did, was staring at him as if he’d gone mad. Totally insane, in fact. Oh, she was trying to hide it as she glanced at him through half-closed eyes in the mirror, brushing her beautiful hair in long even strokes.
The evening and the golden candlelight turned her pale face luminous. The folds of her dark blue dressing gown spilled about her legs and the lace at her neck parted to reveal the curve of her breasts. Like this, no one was more beautiful than his Kathryn.
Swirling the cognac in his crystal glass, he shifted positions on his cushioned, chocolate leather chair before the fire. It might be better if she didn’t notice he had observed her concerned glances.
But what the hell could he do? Oh, he knew she was distressed. He’d have to be a moron not to notice the tension in her shoulders and the way she pursed her lips before speaking to him as if he might suddenly turn into a raging mad man. And he should try harder to assure her, to pull himself out of his growing hell. But. . .
Ryder snapped his gaze to the fire, letting the brightness of it burn his eyes, burn them until they stung.
He’d done the unthinkable.
He let Jane’s birthday pass without notice.
Even now the thought made him want to vomit.
Discreetly, he fingered the worn ribbon circling his wrist. How could he have done such a thing? How could he have let that day slip by when, year after year, he lit candles and donated funds to her favorite charities? He usually spent the day in quiet solitude, reading John Donne, her favorite poet. Death thou shalt die. . .
But death had not died, not before it had stolen Jane.
Ryder bit down on the inside of his cheek trying to fight back his self-revulsion. This year he and Kathryn had gone to a ball on Jane’s birthday. On the anniversary of her birthday, he had drank and caroused with his friends, and then he had taken Kate home and made passionate love to her.
It hadn’t even occurred to him until a week later what he’d done.
At the outset of his new marriage, he promised himself he could make Kathryn happy and still devote himself to Jane’s memory. And he’d failed her. He was failing them both.
The pain and guilt of knowing that rolled in darker than any thunderstorm and, ever since, nothing could make him forget what a deplorable bastard he was.
Even so, he snuck a glance at Kathryn as she rubbed scented lotion over her slender hands. She was worried about him, but that would pass. She would grow accustomed to his ways and, lord knew, he struggled to keep the real darkness at bay for her sake.
Before he would have locked himself in. Kept to himself until he could meet people again without wanting to kill them all for having the kind of happiness that had been torn from him.
He took a long, fast swallow, trying to convince himself his world was not about to implode.
Kathryn turned in her chair, the silk of her gown caressing her long legs. “What are you thinking, good sir?”
“Hmm?” Ryder rubbed the back of his hand over his lips, trying to hide the list of self-recriminations from his face.
“You look like Atlas.” She stood, the folds of her gown whooshing into place. A smile tilted her lips as she gracefully closed the distance between them. “Has the weight of the world been placed upon your shoulders?” There was a false note of cheer to her usually rich voice.
He forced himself to laugh and took her hand. If they could just manage to ignore his pain, all would turn out. She’d be cared for, if not entirely loved, and he. . . he’d find a way to never forget Jane again. “Come.”
Easily, he pulled Kathryn down onto his lap. It had been some time since he’d allowed himself this closeness with her and immediately his blood stirred straight to his cock.
Resting her body against him with what seemed like complete trust, she traced her fingers over his jawline. For several seconds, she remained silent, her gaze searching his face. “You’re not happy?”
The instant desire that had fired his veins faded and Ryder shifted uncomfortably. This was not where he wanted the conversation to head. If he started answering these kinds of questions, she would ask deeper ones. Questions about the past. And there was no way in hell he was going to discuss his pained thoughts with her. She deserved happiness, and such talk would only distress her further.
If he could distract her with the passion that rose so easily between them, the feeling she was about to tear open a long-covered wound would disappear, and he could go on with this masquerade.
Slowly, he lifted the snifter to his lips and took a long drink of cognac, letting it fill his mouth. He didn’t swallow. With his free hand, he tilted her head back and bent to kiss her. She arched to his body and moaned in shock as his lips parted ever so slightly, allowing the rich, burning liquid to slide into her mouth. As they kissed, their mouths working together to share the heady taste, he wove his hand into her silken hair.
When they’d finished the cognac, he let the crystal glass clunk to the thick carpet beneath his chair. He didn’t let the kiss break. He wanted her wild for him and completely without thought. Yet, he could not stop thinking. Thinking of the woman who ruled his past and the woman who was now in his arms.
Even as desire and hunger filled him, anger at his own lack of control raced through his veins. Ryder tried to force the thought away, focusing on the soft feel of Kate.
Their tongues tangled and they sucked gently, the wet heat a blissful reminder of the wet heat they would share later.
God, how had he denied himself this? How had he let himself separate from this woman? Her body was the most beautiful and comforting thing he’d ever known. Easily, he tugged her skirts up and stroked his hand up her thigh, curving his fingers around her hip. She lay against him, her body softening and opening to him.
He loved it. It was bloody amazing and horrifying the kind of trust she instilled in him. In truth, Kathryn held so little back and the weight of it terrified him. For he had hidden so much about himself for so long.
She reached for his arm and did something she had never done before, her fingers twisted into the ribbon at his wrist.
Ryder tensed against her and pulled back instantly. “Don’t.”
*
Kathryn stilled, suddenly sure she might vomit. She leaned back away from him, her skin chilling under his touch. All this time, she had chosen to ignore the reason he would never love her because, of course, she had promised herself she would never love again. But lord how she had lied to herself. And as t
he room pulsed around her, sucking the air from her lungs, she realized that, once again, she played the fool.
He was desperately in love with another woman. A woman who had been dead for years. “It’s hers,” she whispered. “Isn’t it?”
Ryder looked away, his hand frozen against her thigh. “We will not discuss it.”
“Is that what you want? To not talk about it?”
He drew in a slow breath. “Frankly? Yes.”
“I see,” she said, her voice panicky to her own ears. “Can you not tell me anything?” She gripped his arms gently but firmly as if he might suddenly disappear from her. “Anything?”
“Kathryn. Not now.”
“No.” She let out a harsh breath. “You know so much about me. I have told you everything. Yet, you will tell me nothing.”
She pushed against his chest gently so she might sit upright. It hurt the way he could make her feel so cared for and then keep her out of every part of his life that was of any importance. “I thought we were at least friends, Ryder. I never expected anything else but. . .” Her throat worked as if the words were too painful to speak.
Ryder looked away his jaw tightening. “I don’t want to talk about her.”
Abruptly, it hit her. And never in her life had she felt more alone.
“No. You don’t wish to talk about her with me.” Kate swallowed against her twisting insides. Could she never learn? She’d been such a fool. Such a fool. Again. “Because you’re betraying her with me.”
Quickly, Ryder pushed Kathryn up and stood, turning his back to her. “What do you wish me to say?” His hands came up wildly and he crossed them firmly across his chest. “That you are, indeed, right?”
Kathryn stared at the black expanse of his back desperately wanting to wrap her arms around him. She could feel him slipping further away from her, even further than he had in the last days. And if he was still so in love with his first wife, she’d never be able to pull him back.
“Ryder, she’s gone. You should—”
He whipped around so fast, Kate stumbled back. Fire burned in his eyes and his chest pumped up and down in harsh breaths. “I don’t need you to tell me she’s gone. I think on it every damned day.”
Lord, she hated it, but fear, fear she was going to push him too far burrowed deep inside her heart. But he needed to hear the truth, needed to break free of the darkness. “Yes and you should always hold her in your heart, but—”
“But what? What do you want to hear?” He took a step forward. “That she gave me the love I so longed for after my parents’ death?”
Kate’s throat tightened as she backed away from his sudden fury. “I just want you to be happy—”
“Happy?” he barked. “I deserve to die in Hell for not taking better care of her.”
Kate shook her head, a tear slipping down her cheek. “That is not true. You are a good man. You—”
“I promised her when she lay dying that I would always love her, that I would never forget her—” His voice cracked. “And I did.” Now it dimmed to a bare whisper. “I’ve been forgetting her.”
Oh Lord, her chest burned with pain for him. He was so noble, but he’d drowned himself in agony for so long. And he was shoving her away. Her dearest friend in the world and he was pushing her out of his life. “Ryder, she’d want you to be happy.”
A muscle in his jaw ticked. He hesitated for the briefest moment as if contemplating sharing his pain. But he strode away from her, heading for the door. “I have no intention of discussing this with you.”
Kate ran after him, determined not to let him go. He’d become so important to her, she couldn’t just let him walk away. Fiercely, she grabbed his arm. “Ryder, I’m your friend. I want to—”
“Jane,” he breathed. “Don’t.”
Jane?
The room swung around and Kate had to blink against the roar of silence stretching between them.
Her grip loosened on his arm and her mouth turned to sand. Tears stung her eyes and, for a moment, she was sure she’d never be able to speak again. “That is not my name,” she whispered.
Ryder closed his eyes for a moment. “Oh, God. Forgive me.”
Kate dropped her hand and nodded. “This is the dilemma, is it not?” Her face crumpled, but she willed herself not to cry. Crying would solve nothing. Instead, she balled her hands into fists. “I will never be Jane. No one ever will.”
“Stop,” he snapped, his voice so low it would have terrified the most battle-hardened man. “You are not one to accuse others of barring their hearts. You have made it clear yourself you will never love.”
His words echoed around her and her mouth filled with bitterness. She had worked so hard to protect her heart and now it lay open and cut to ribbons. There was nothing left for her to lose.
She couldn’t let her own fear drive them apart. Nor could she let him do this. Not to her. Not to them.
“You are right. But,” after sucking in a harsh breath, she proclaimed, “I love you. Even if it makes me the greatest of fools, I love you.”
That God-awful silence hung between them again, and when he didn’t say the only words she could hope to hear in response to her confession, she continued, her voice raspy with unshed tears. “But you would rather spend the rest of your life with a dead woman than with one who loves you here and now.” The words slipped out of her mouth before she could stop them.
“Yes.” He nodded. “You, too, are right.” He looked down at her, his face a mask of pain and fury.
Kate stared up at him, her throat so tight it stung. For the second time, she had proclaimed her love and been left with nothing. Lord, why did she love those who could or would never love her in turn?
Digging her nails into her palms, she lifted her chin and hardened herself. She’d already laid herself bare. And he had made himself clear. “I understand,” she said firmly.
Ryder stared straight ahead, his back ramrod straight. “I don’t think you do.”
Kate lifted her hand and smiled despite the salty tears slipping down her cheeks. “No. I do. You would rather live with her memory than love me.”
Letting her hand drop, she started for the door—the door they had so happily come through on their wedding day. “I cannot stay.”
She paused, praying that any moment he would gather her in his arms and beg her to remain. But he did not. She glanced back over her shoulder.
He stood silent, his black eyes hard in the candlelight.
She shrugged, her gesture tired and extremely distant. “Farewell, Ryder.”
And without waiting to see if there was remorse upon his face, she walked out into the dark hall, leaving the greatest happiness she had ever known—and her heart—behind her.
Chapter 25
“You cannot go, Your Grace!”
Kate stood shivering in the cold, foggy dead of night dressed in a warm gown of purple velvet and silver. Ryder had bought it for her, something she was trying not to think about. “I must.”
“No,” Grieves said, his voice gruffer than usual, his face barely visible from the coach lamps. “As impertinent as it is for an old goat such as myself to say, you should stay and talk to him, you should. For you love him, madam.”
Unable to stop herself, Kate glanced up to the glass windows and wondered for one heartbreaking moment if Ryder might come storming out of the house to stop her. But he wouldn’t. She knew that. He was still living in his pain. He would always live in his pain.
She forced a brittle smile to her lips as tears stung her eyes. “I must. I cannot—” Her voice broke. “You’re right, Grieves, I do love him. And because I love him, I must go. I cannot stand by and support the way he brutalizes himself.” She folded her hands before her, digging her nails into the backs of her hands to strengthen her resolve. “Besides if I stay, he will only hate himself more. I know it.”
Grieves’ shaggy brows rose in consternation, a strange sheen lightening his myopic eyes. “He’ll hate himself
even more for letting you go.”
“Please Grieves, don’t make this difficult for me.” She looked up at the cloudy sky. “We must accept the way things are.”
Resignation etched itself into his kind old face. “I don’t wish to, but I understand, Your Grace.” Gently, he took her hand in his wizened one and guided her to the coach. “I will miss the happiness you’ve brought to this house. But most of all, I will miss you.”
Kate couldn’t bring herself to look one last time at the home that had been so full of wonder. If she did, she was afraid she’d break into a thousand pieces. So, instead, she flouted propriety and impulsively embraced the old man who shared his kindness so freely. “Thank you. And I you.”
Grieves’ eyes widened with shock. After a moment, he cleared his throat. “Will you at least say goodbye to him?”
God, how she ached to see him, especially knowing now she could not. “We have already said all that needs to be said.”
Grieves nodded, his old face creasing with sadness.
And this time, without looking back, Kate climbed into her coach and leaned into the blue velvet seat. As the whip cracked and the wheels clattered over the cobblestone of the drive, she closed her eyes.
She’d been alone for so many years of her life and she knew how to be alone. But now, the very idea of living without Ryder was suffocating her. Still, she could not give in.
So, Kathryn pulled the curtains closed and shut herself into darkness, praying for sleep. Praying she would be able to forget.
*
Two weeks later
The door flung open and Hunt sighed so loud it echoed across the room. “You’ve gone and cocked it up, haven’t you?”
Ryder cradled the bottle against his chest like a man clinging to a piece of wood at sea and grimaced as someone whipped open the curtains. Sunlight spilled into the room falling on him like poison what with his headache.
