"Yes," Juliet smiled. "I happen to know 'tis true, too."
Elsbeth's shock made Juliet laugh again. "How is that?"
"He told me himself, that's how."
"He told you about me? About . . . caring for me? Juliet, you never mentioned—"
"I didn't know if I should or not. Should you like to hear what he said?"
Elsbeth nodded nervously, and Juliet smiled at Elsbeth's obvious anticipation. "Well, one day as he was showing me how to play a card game, trying to teach me to keep a straight face—with little success—he finally threw up his cards and said, 'You are hopeless, every bit as bad as Elsbeth. Every emotion right there like a flag, as plain as day.' I asked if he meant you, Garrett's half sister, and he said aye, Elsbeth." Juliet's voice softened, "I don't know how to explain it, but the way he said your name made me ask straight out, 'You're in love with her, aren't you?' He seemed nervous at first, but then he said, 'Since I was fourteen, the first day Garrett let me meet her.' "
Elsbeth searched her face, a pained expression in her eyes, "You are teasing me."
Juliet shook her head. "He does love you, Elsbeth, and I think very much, but . . . but—"
"What? What is it? Did he say more?"
"Yes," she said, remembering every last work spoken that day. "He's afraid that even if Garrett might agree, your mother wouldn't consider the offer. Leif, too, said that he had no chance, even considering how close your families are, and when Gayle pressed him again—the second time—he said 'twas not to be mentioned until he finishes school."
Elsbeth took this and said, "That will be years!"
"I know. . . ." Juliet knew what that waiting was about. Wiser than Elsbeth, she knew too that it was a cruel tactic used by Leif in the hope that those years would change his emotion. Leaning back on her hands, she tilted her head to the sun, thinking of what she could do, what might help. "Elsbeth, when do you think you'll see Gayle again?"
"If you run off, you can see him right now. He's waiting for you at the stables."
They turned around to see Garrett leaning against the tree, watching them. A happy cry came from Elsbeth as she jumped to her feet and ran to her brother's arms, embracing him in hers. Garrett set her down and with a smile told her she was getting prettier every day. Somehow his sincerity transformed this commonplace into a jewel of a gift.
"Garrett, how long shall you be here?"
"Only until tonight, I'm afraid. I need to speak to Juliet alone, and Gayle is waiting for you at the stables. I'll be back in a while."
Smiling and excited, Elsbeth ran off, calling for Laydy to follow her. Garrett watched her run away before turning at last to Juliet. She stood up now, staring down at the crumbled daisy she had twisted in her hand, not even having to look up to know not just that he stared at her but how he stared, feeling the full force of what it did to her. She had tried a thousand times to imagine a scenario in which she would not ever have to see him again, but unless one or the other of them died—and she did not want that—she could not imagine one. So she had tried to prepare herself for the inevitable day when she would see him again. A pointless endeavor, she knew now, for her imagination could never reproduce the pace of her heart, the catch of her breath, and the strange knot in her stomach, much less the confused tangle of emotion.
Garrett made no move toward her. Watching her struggle, he conjured the image he had just seen moments ago: Juliet sitting on the edge of the lake with a fishing pole in hand, the skirts of her pale green dress hiked over the slender legs, sunlight caught in her unbound hair as she tilted her face to catch the warm embrace of the sun. Young ladies' smiles, laughter and secrets filling the summer air. . . . "She is learning to be happy again. . . ."
"Juliet," he evoked her name as a prayer, calling her eyes up to him at last. "I would sooner die a thousand deaths than to hurt you again," he whispered on the heels of a frightened pause. "Tell me to leave and I will."
She had not expected such tenderness, and it confused her more. She shook her head, frightened by the depth of their emotion, until she found she was staring at his moccasin boots as he had come to stand by her. The warm heat of his body became a caress, while the rich pleasant scent of him triggered memories. A hundred memories flitted quickly through her mind, too quick to hold individually but leaving a collective impression nonetheless. The impression scared her, for she not only felt safe and protected by him, she felt as if he had cared for her and cherished her. . . . Nay, she closed her eyes, it could not be so. He once showed her how ridiculous the very idea was to him. ...
"I bring bad news, I'm afraid. Clarissa Stoddard died. last week of influenza."
Juliet searched his face, seeing that it was true. Clarissa was dead, she repeated in her mind, and like a bluebird's careful dance to a fallen moth, she approached the news cautiously, seeing if it might sting or hurt. Yet it moved her not at all. She felt neither gladness nor grief. She might never have known Clarissa.
"What are you thinking, love?"
She shook her head sadly, "That I never really knew her. Her death is like a sad and tragic book that I never opened; I feel relieved that I don't have to. Is that terrible of me?"
These words confirmed his decision to keep the story of Clarissa Stoddard's life from her; he knew then he had made the right decision. He shook his head, loving her so much and resisting the need to take her into his arms, marveling that he could.
"I know there was no fortune left—"
"Not true. You inherited a fair income. I had my bankers dissolve what was left and place it in a trust for you. You may draw notes on it whenever you wish." He watched her eyes, those lovely eyes and the effort she put to hide her relief. "You're not going to smile, are
you
"No, no," she shook her head too quickly. " Twould be truly terrible to smile now." Then surprising him as well as herself, she contradicted the words. The smile matched her eyes and reflected the shimmering afternoon light on the lake. That one smile meant much to him, affecting him far too strongly. He forced himself to turn away.
Confused, Juliet watched him kneel at the edge of the lake and pick up her discarded fishing line, casting it out. She approached his side cautiously and knelt beside him, conscious now of his unspoken questions, conscious, too, of her inability to answer them.
Garrett did not want to stare but stare he did. She looked so lovely in that dress, her thin arms wrapped around her knees as she knelt beside him. Two pins, dressed in ribbons, held her hair back, so it fell in thick waves of sunlight to the earth. She twirled one of the discarded daisies in her hand. Her hand—
Garrett took her hand. A lace glove covered her palm, with no fingers, save one. This was tied with a yellow ribbon. "A present from Elsbeth," Juliet explained. "I never told her, of course, but she knew. She made me this, she said, so there will be nothing to remind you and nothing to interrupt your new happiness."
"Are you happy now, Juliet?"
"I pinch myself every morning to make sure I'm not dreaming that I'm truly here at last."
The meaning of those words were not lost on him. The safe place of her dreams was Kourtain Castle, his home where he had never lived. "It seems my mother has fallen in love with you."
Juliet smiled at that. "I'm not surprised, since she has so much love to give. I've never known a finer or more gentle person."
"And Elsbeth?"
"She is just like you said, filled with life and laughter. Her friendship is a blessing to me, one that I will celebrate the rest of my life."
Garrett turned to the lake. Her soft-spoken words were an expression of gratitude, a deeply felt gratitude, as if his mother and sister, Kourtain Castle, and a summer more beautiful than ten past, were his presents to her. He would not hope, not now. ...
It was as if she anticipated his next question, for a sad but distant light came to her eyes even before she heard, "Do you still think of him, Juliet?"
"Yes, I do. I suppose I always will."
; Juliet did not see his emotion upon hearing this as -she looked away. He had asked and she had answered, answered with the truth. The truth, yet a truth offered without explanation, thus one more misleading than a lie. The omission was the crudest act she ever committed. "If you wanted revenge, then consider yourself paid in full. . . ." Why did she want to hurt him? Why? Because hurting him was the only proof she had he cared about her, proof she desperately needed to see—
"Then, I must ask, love, will you ever forgive me?"
"I already have," she said, the realization bringing a confused tumble of thoughts as she rose to leave. "I'm very good at forgiving people. I've had so much practice." She turned away but stopped. "Garrett, don't let Leif or your mother make Gayle and Elsbeth wait. It's wrong of them, you know. Love is so very sacred when it comes to us, and no one," she repeated in a passionate whisper, "no one has the right to take it away."
Without seeing, she felt the startling impact of her words. How badly her words struck him! Why, Garrett? Garrett, why do I matter to you?
The unanswered question brought sudden panic, more confusion, and she started running. Garrett recovered enough to know he'd not let her get away with that. "Juliet, stop!" He was on his feet and at her side before she could heed his command. "Oh no, love." A dangerous move, he put his hand on her arm to stop her, then the other as he turned her around. Breathing hard, he closed his eyes, all his will put to restraining his force and strength. Juliet felt his restraint, a small reassurance against the avalanche of feeling she experienced being held this close to him. "A lie, Juliet, that's a lie. I won't let you leave me with it unless you tell me now I should have let him have you."
" Tis not that simple!"
"But it is. Answer me, love. Tell me I didn't have the right to save you. You, who I love more than life—"
"Love? Love!" She shook her head frantically, "Once I asked this — "
"You asked a man who loved you desperately when you loved another. Still, I never denied it. I couldn't, for my love is too powerful, pounding with every beat of my heart and each breath I take. I love you, Juliet."
These were words that changed everything, but she greeted them with utter incomprehension, as if he had spoken in a foreign language, her shock was so great. Seeing the extent of her shock gave him a physical jolt. She hadn't known. Dear God—"Juliet—"
Yet it was too late, too late by far. She pulled violently from his reach and shot into the forest, running from the words she simply could not believe she heard. Words that changed everything.
Juliet brushed Estrella's fine black coat until it glistened like a midnight sky. She knew how to saddle her horse now, too, a task in which she took inordinate pride in doing without the help of Manny, the Van Ness groom for two generations. Still, the old man watched over her like a mother hen, rechecking every strap and cinch, certain there was something inherently wrong about a young lady saddling her own horse.
Today two men watched over her. "You're just going up the mountain then down, right, lass?" Brighton put the question to her for the third time. His mount had a swollen ankle, which Juliet used as a lever to convince the new guard to let her go off alone. Garrett had left for Brussels, then on to France, his men with him. New guards replaced the old and Brighton proved far more difficult to dodge than the others. Not only was he twice as wide as most men and at least that much stronger, but he was sharp and clever, especially with women, a cleverness he explained by having been married not just twice but three times, unions that yielded him two daughters from each wife. "Six girls and counting."
"I promise, Mr. Brighton," Juliet said as Manny helped her up into the saddle. "I'll be back within two hours."
"Ye better or ye'U get one hell of a lynching party out on the trail."
Juliet did not laugh because he was not joking. She had no idea what threat all these men thought to protect her from, but then Garrett was ever protective. Garrett, the name echoed through her mind, reverberating like the touch of his lips through her heart and soul as she rode out.
After Juliet finally convinced Lady Evelyn and Els-beth she truly wanted to stay behind for another week, they had left for London. "There's only a thousand things to do before we make the announcement: a new wardrobe, cards, the engraver, we shall have to consult the bishop and begin the list, and oh, 111 have to examine suitable residences near the university and . . ." On and on it went, the beginning, just the beginning of the plans for Elsbeth's and Gayle's wedding, which would be announced upon Gayle's return in two months.
Garrett had listened to her after all.
Juliet led the mare out into the courtyard, turning toward the mountains. Fall had arrived in a great show of colors. Already the maple and sycamore leaves turned to gold, while the smaller, harder leaves of the oaks littered the ground, crunching beneath Estrella's hooves. A bite was in the air, too, a mild chill that produced billowing white clouds over what was once an endless blue sky. Birds hopped from tree to tree, creating a noisy backdrop for the familiar train of her thoughts
Familiar, for ever since that day her mind had turned over those words, these last words he had said to her. He had once denied his love, or so she had thought, but now as she remembered what he had said, "No other woman I know would ask, it makes me see how young you are ... tell me, what inspired your curiosity . . . just what were you expecting, love. . . ." There never was a denial. He had meant to hurt her and he had hurt her badly, yet only because he was a man who would not, could not, accept her pity.
Pity and Garrett, it was a ludicrous pairing and she should have known that. She should have known every thing, the emotion was so powerful. Now she put the emotion behind everything he had said and done and she understood. Garrett had fallen in love with her, and in a treacherously long roundabout way she had fallen in love with him, too. Not an easy or gentle song but a forceful and passionate one. A passion created by that sacred emotion, growing with time but buried and tan gled in the strange and often terrible fate that was her life
Her struggle had not been without purpose, rhyme, or reason, and she knew this only after traveling through the dark tunnel that was her life. A journey she survived only because she always kept more faith than fear. Faith was the bright light at the end of the tunnel, the very certainty of an ultimate purpose that was an end, of reaching this safe place in her dreams, and though there were times when fear extinguished that light, she still stumbled blindly forward, knowing she'd see the light again. Only now that she was so close, so very close, she saw the end wasn't a place at all but rather a person. And he was reaching out to her, reaching to pull her from the darkness of the tunnel to feel the warm embrace of the sun. . . .
Wild ivy crowded around two tall old oaks, climbing up and around, dropping from the branches to veil the well-trodden path ahead. Slowing Estrella, she reached overhead to brush the vines from her path. The horse sensed what she did not and reared, pushing her into the leaves, neighing angrily as his hooves hit the ground hard. Juliet grasped the reins tight at the exact moment she said his name: "Tomas!"
Tbmas stepped out from the trees like an apparition. Estrella danced in circles, fighting the bit until Juliet jumped to the ground, needing to feel the solidity of the earth before she could believe what she saw.
"Tomas," she said again, staring at the formidable sight. His new clothes looked expensive, but they had the worn, rumpled look of having been slept in more than once. Dirt discolored his silk shirt, his rich velvet vest was left carelessly open, while his loose-fitting breeches spilled out of his boots. Dark red circles appeared under his eyes, a bright underline to the trouble there.
A hand reached out to her. She stepped back, quickly, instinctively, her eyes wide, not frightened but wildly cautious. "Juliet," he said her name but stopped when he saw the mistrust in her eyes. "Oh, I see," he said slowly, "Jesus! I can't believe you really thought I would leave you. You did, didn't you? Come now, Juliet, you didn't think I could walk away from ten thousand pound
s? Don't you see. ... I mean, if that bastard was fool enough to offer me ten thousand pounds . . . well, I'm rich now!" He grinned, ever pleased and encouraged by the idea. Reaching into a coat pocket he removed a cask. His gaze returned to her after a long draught. "I've come back to get you, to take you away from him."
He didn't understand the emotions passing through her eyes, yet alone her steely silence. She was shocked; he tried to understand. Yet he had to look away from those eyes, and his gaze lifted over the surrounding forest. He took another long swig. "That bastard has you guarded by a small army, you know. Had a devil of a time getting to you. Been living out in the village for nearly a month now. I'd see you come to church on Sunday with his family. His family! Now that's ripe! First the bastard ruins you, then he sets you right up there in the front pew with his blue-blooded family. In church . . . with you! Jesus, the whole lot of 'em must be corrupt perverts!"
"Don't worry, though," he smiled, then laughed, the hollow sound stopping as he took another swig. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "I took care of mister high and mighty Lord Ramon Garrett Van Ness. A spy, now that threw me. Until I realized all 'twould take was a brief note to the French admiralty, which I sent through my father's banking connections in Amsterdam. Should probably be there by now, well in time to make that bastard's appearance on French shores his last—" He stopped upon seeing her expression. "Ah, now you're shocked. Didn't think I had it in me, did you? I did it, Juliet ... I did it. Damn, but I only wish I could see the guillotine fall."
Juliet swayed, rocking on the heels of her feet as her entire being called out to Garrett over the distance of hundreds of miles. As long as she lived she would believe Garrett answered her, for when Tomas reached to catch her, she raised her arm and, with an unnatural force, the accumulated fury of many, many years and of her absolute refusal to suffer a minute more, she landed a stunning blow to his head. He slammed against the tree trunk and dropped to the ground.
Jennifer Horseman Page 39
