by Peak, Renna
My arm wraps around her instinctively, almost protectively. I can’t help but nearly smile at the sound of her laughter—as inappropriate as it is—and I kiss the top of her head.
She pulls away and rises onto her tiptoes, pecking a kiss against my lips. “I chose perfectly.”
I frown at her—I see what my cousin is doing, trying to lighten the mood, but this hardly seems the time or place.
She only smiles, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I did.”
“As did I,” I say, though I still fail to see the appropriateness in discussing this now.
Her smile widens. “We should get back to the manor, shouldn’t we? I mean—”
“We’ll have to follow the police, unfortunately.” Caspar gives her shoulder a sympathetic pat. “You’ll have to fill out some paperwork.” He glances at me. “We all will.”
“Right.” Clara seems to deflate in front of me, and I wrap my arms around her again. “Right. Maybe we could just…skip the paperwork.”
I look down at her for a long moment. “You don’t want him punished?”
She presses her lips together, looking first at the police car and then up at me. “I…I don’t know. What…what is the punishment? I mean, I think he’s crazy. I don’t think he actually meant to hurt me—he honestly believed I was in danger, I think.”
Caspar’s expression changes from one of sympathy to one that’s much more pitying. He glances at the police car before he looks back at Clara. “Perhaps you aren’t aware, but Montovia’s prisons are focused on rehabilitation, not on punishment. A sentence for kidnapping might be…what?” He looks over at me, shrugging. “One year at most? And in that year, he will receive the finest mental health care available on the planet, unlike in most places. And if at the end of that year, he still isn’t fit to return to society, other arrangements would be made.”
Clara just blinks, turning from Caspar to me and then back to Caspar. “Really?”
He nods. “Really.”
She turns to me, raising her brows.
I give her a nod as well. “Really. Caspar would know best of the three of us—he trained briefly as a lawyer, didn’t you, Cousin?”
Caspar gives another slight shrug.
I ignore him, continuing. “But you must press charges against Adam. Otherwise, the law will only have his side of the story to hear, and they’ll release him. But if you press charges, you won’t have to face him again.”
“Unless we go to court…” She frowns, blinking back tears. “It might just be easier to send him home. Find a place here to hide—”
“He already found you once, Clara. You don’t think he will again?” I hear the edge in my voice—why can’t she understand that unless the man is held, he’ll never be well. We’ll live in constant fear that he’s just behind the next corner.
And I can’t do that. I need to make her understand that I will do anything I must in order to protect her—and next time I have my hands wrapped around the man’s throat, I will not be so forgiving as to let go.
Caspar seems to sense my frustration. “We…don’t have to make any decisions now.” He gives Clara a weak smile. “Let’s just get in the car and follow the police back to Wintervale.”
Clara
My head is foggy. I feel as if I’m watching everything happen through a thick, cloudy glass. Everything is blurry. Sounds are slightly muffled. And a numbness has spread over me, making me feel heavy and still.
I’m not sure how long we’re at the police station. I have to answer some questions, but I find it hard to put sentences together. After a while, Nick takes my hand in his and begins answering for me.
Eventually, he steers me toward the door.
“Where are we going?” I ask him through the fog.
“Back to the manor,” he tells me, his voice soft and low. “Away from all this.”
I let him lead me outside, to a dark car waiting at the curb. He helps me into the car, then keeps his hand in mine on the short ride back to the manor. He guides me up to my room, his arm around my waist.
“Why don’t I draw you a bath?” he says after sitting me down on the bed.
I blink. “Why?”
“I just thought it might make you feel better.” He stares down at me, a frown on his lips. For once, his eyes aren’t steady. Instead, they seem to flit about from one part of me to the next—my face, my hands, my eyes, my feet. I look down at myself, trying to see what he’s seeing, but the fog in my head makes it hard to concentrate.
“I’m drawing that bath,” he says finally, decisively. He turns and strides into the bathroom, and a moment later I hear the water running.
My head feels very heavy. I lean back on the bed, listening to the water, trying to process everything that’s just happened. Adam has been arrested. He shouldn’t bother me again. And yet, somehow, I feel almost bad about that. Before I broke off our engagement, he was normal. Not perfect, by any means, but he was successful, personable, and generally kind. He could have done anything he wanted with his life.
And I fucked him up. I left him, broke his heart, and turned him into a man who would throw away everything in an attempt to “rescue” me.
What kind of monster does that make me?
Footsteps approach the bed. My eyes open, and Nick is leaning over me, a hand outstretched as if to touch my cheek. His fingers stop short of my skin.
“Your bath is ready,” he says softly. “But would you rather take a nap?”
I don’t think I’ll get any sleep, not now. I struggle upright. “A bath should be okay.”
Not that I deserve one.
I move numbly toward the bathroom, fumbling with my clothes. Nick is right behind me.
“Let me help you,” he says.
“I can undress myself.”
The look in his eyes suggests he doesn’t believe me. “You’re in shock, Clara. Let me help you.”
Shock? Is that what this numb feeling is? That doesn’t seem quite right.
None of this seems quite right.
I don’t argue when Nick attempts to help me again. His hands are gentle and warm. They feel good, even though, like everything else, it’s as if I’m experiencing them through a fog.
Eventually, I’m naked. Nick helps me step into the tub. The water is hot, but the heat feels far away. It smells like lavender.
“Are you getting in with me?” I ask as I settle back against the side of the tub.
He shakes his head. “Not this time. But I’ll sit here with you.” He pulls the little padded stool over from the corner of the room, then takes a seat right next to my head.
“Lean back,” he tells me.
I obey, tilting my head back toward him. A moment later, I feel his hands in my hair, gently massaging my scalp.
I let myself enjoy it for a moment before the guilt settles in.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” I ask him.
His fingers pause. “What do you mean? You were just kidnapped, Clara.”
I shrug. “That wasn’t a kidnapping. That was…” Karma? Just rewards? Exactly what I deserved?
Nick’s hands begin moving again, but there’s something a little more deliberate in his touch now. After a moment, he says, “You aren’t blaming yourself, are you?”
“Not blaming,” I say. “But it’s my own fault this happened.”
“That’s exactly what blaming is.”
I shake my head. “But this wouldn’t have happened if I’d handled things better. This was just…the consequence of my actions.”
His fingers go still again. “You do blame yourself. Clara, that man is mad.”
“Because I made him that way.” I squeeze my eyes shut. “Because I ran away from him without a proper explanation. Because I broke his heart. I treated him so badly, Nick. How can I blame him for responding this way? He thought he was helping me. He thought I was the crazy one, all because I up and cut him out of my life on a whim. Because I ran away from my home and my fa
mily and friends without giving anyone any sort of explanation.”
His fingers move to my temples. “None of that excuses kidnapping, Clara. Or threatening your life.”
“He wasn’t really threatening me. He just wanted—”
“I was there, Clara. I saw him. I heard him. I thought he was going to…” His lets that thought trail off, and when he speaks again, his voice is cold and hard. “I wanted to kill him, Clara. Do you understand? I don’t care what you did to him. If he’d hurt you, I would have killed him with my bare hands. Any man deserves to die for hurting a woman. And especially a woman he claims to have loved.”
It’s hard to argue with that, but guilt is still a hard, heavy ball in my stomach.
“How can you excuse what I did to him?” I ask quietly. “After what Sara did to you?”
His hands skim down either side of my face, and he takes me by the chin and tilts my head back even further. I open my eyes, looking up into his upside-down face.
“Because you had the courage to face your true feelings,” he says. “Even when you knew it would hurt him. There’s a strength in that, even if Adam couldn’t see it.” His thumb sweeps along the edge of my jaw. “It’s something I’ve had to accept about Sara, too.”
“But if I’d handled it a different way—”
“You handled it the best way you knew how,” he tells me. “But even if you hadn’t, that doesn’t excuse his behavior. Most jilted lovers don’t attempt to kidnap people. Not once, in all the weeks and months I pined over Sara, did I even consider doing the things Adam did today. And I never would, no matter how much she hurt me.” His thumb pauses. “The same goes for you. If you decided tomorrow that you never wanted to see me again, I would never wish harm upon you. I would still love you, even if I had to let you go.”
“You wouldn’t fight for me?”
A spark flashes in his eyes. “Oh, I’d fight for you, Clara. Until my last breath. But the moment I thought I was causing you actual harm, in any way, I’d let go. Your happiness means more to me than my own.”
At those words, all the fog in my head is suddenly gone. His eyes burn down into mine, stealing my breath away. My thoughts are a jumble in my head, but one thing is crystal clear.
I lift my hands from the water, placing them over his on my face, keeping my eyes locked on his. And the words just tumble out of my mouth.
“You love me?” I ask, suddenly realizing I haven’t actually heard him say those words to me.
He gives me a single nod, and something about it makes me absolutely sure that he’s telling the truth.
I look up into his eyes. “Marry me.”
Nicholas
After I kiss the top of her forehead, I smile down at her. If I thought for a moment she wasn’t in shock, I’d be eager to agree to her proposal. Even the sound of the words has caused my chest to swell, but I know better than to put her in a situation that she’ll regret later.
“I’m serious, Nick.” She twists herself around to face me. “Let’s just do it. We can do it this weekend. And after what just happened, I don’t really care if mine is or not.”
“We should get you some tea—get you to bed.” I grab a robe and hold it out for her.
“Nick…” She looks up at me with wide, glistening eyes. “I know you think—”
“You’re in shock? Yes.” I take her hand as she climbs out of the bath, and I wrap her in the soft white robe.
“But…but I’m not. I mean, maybe I am. But…but I’m serious about what I asked you.”
“I know. And we’ll discuss it after you’ve had a proper rest. You’ve been through hell today, Clara. As much as I’d love to agree to your proposal, I couldn’t possibly do so knowing you’re under duress.”
“I’m not…” Something like a groan comes from the back of her throat. “I love you, Nick.” She spins to face me. “I love you. And I’ve never been so sure about anything in my life. Even when Adam first asked me—even when I agreed—I wasn’t as sure as I am right now.”
I give her a knowing nod. I’d love to tell her how I feel the same—how even when I thought I was in love with Sara, it was never like this.
But I dare not say anything. I’ve no idea if she’ll even remember this conversation when she wakes up, and I don’t want to go through the heartache of having her forget that she proposed to me.
She proposed to me. I can almost feel a smile coming to my lips at the thought.
I lead her to the bed, and pull her into my arms. She nestles against me, nuzzling against my chest as she lies in the crook of my arm.
I kiss the top of her head, almost certain by the steady sound of her breathing that she’s already asleep. “I love you, Clara. More than you’ll ever know.”
“I love you, too,” she murmurs as she drifts off to sleep.
* * *
I must drift off myself at some point, and when I wake, Clara is no longer in my arms.
But there’s singing coming from the sitting room.
Singing?
I clamber out of the bed and stumble into the sitting room. Clara is there with trays of food, singing—loudly.
She stops when she sees me, and grins up at me from the sofa. “Good morning, sleepy head.”
“Is it morning?” I glance toward the window—it’s pitch black outside.
“Well, it’s after midnight, so technically it’s morning.” She pulls open one of the silver trays in front of her. “I thought we’d have a picnic—all the food I used to make for you before we came here. Remember?”
I take the seat next to her, looking at all the dishes on the coffee table. “I remember,” I say, not adding that what the staff here has prepared looks infinitely more appetizing than what Clara used to make in our kitchen in Montana.
“It’s not exactly how I’d make spaghetti—they added meatballs. But it looks good.” She smiles up at me again. “And there’s grilled cheese, too. I had to explain what it was, but the cook seemed to get it.”
I try to press my lips into a smile, not telling her that if I never saw another grilled cheese sandwich in my life, I would be just fine with that. She’s obviously gone to some effort, but I can’t exactly say why.
She turns to me with a start. “Do you still have it?”
I feel my brow furrow. “Have what?”
“The ring. The one from the ruins. I want to wear it.”
“Clara…” I frown down at her. Part of me is glad that she remembers our conversation in the bath, but another part of me wishes she had forgotten. How do I tell her that I would much prefer to be the one to propose to her? I’m certainly not above breaking with tradition in some circumstances, but in this instance, I want to be the one to do the asking.
“I was thinking I could ask my mom to come out. Just my mom, though. My dad…” She sighs. “And my sisters…” She shakes her head. “They can come for the wedding. But I don’t want them being part of planning it, you know?” She gives me a weak smile. “I imagine when my mom gets together with your mom, they’re going to have all kinds of ideas about what the wedding should look like.”
My mouth falls open—I’m about to tell her that I don’t want a large, fussy wedding, but then think better of it. “Clara—”
“It doesn’t have to be big. Just our families will be fine.”
“Clara.” I say her name more forcefully this time. “Why are you doing this?”
“Doing what?” She blinks up at me with doe eyes. “Planning my wedding? Or planning for the planning, I guess?”
I shake my head. “I know you remember what we talked about in the bath.”
“I know that you asked me to marry you a few days ago. And I would have said yes then, but I was being stupid. And I know you didn’t say yes last night, either, but two proposals—one from each of us—that equals two yeses, doesn’t it?”
My head swings slowly back and forth. “Now isn’t the time, Clara. You’ve just been through an ordeal—”
�
�Which is why it’s the perfect time.” She grins up at me. “So what do you say, Nick? Can we get on with the wedding plans?”
I close my eyes for a moment—why can she not understand? This is not how I want to remember our engagement. Not even close. I finally look down at her, pulling her hand into mine. “Clara, I love you. I truly do. More than I ever thought possible.”
“Then marry me—”
“No.” I shake my head. “Not like this.” I let out a long breath before I stand, pulling her up to her feet beside me. “Come with me.”
Clara
I can’t imagine where he might be taking me.
My heart thumps in my chest, and my stomach is twisted in a giant knot. Despite the smile on my face, I feel like I might be sick. I thought Nick wanted to marry me. Why would he have asked me otherwise? And then gotten so upset when I initially refused him?
When I proposed to him in the bath earlier, I hadn’t even considered the possibility he might turn me down. And then I took him at his word, assumed he was only refusing because he thought I was in shock… Now, though, I realize there’s something else going on.
And I’m terrified of what that might be.
Did he change his mind? Realize how stupid and rash it would be to get married so quickly? Maybe he’s decided he can’t spend his life with a woman who attracts as much drama as I seem to. Or maybe he’s finally admitted to himself that he does have some lingering emotion for Sara…
All of those possibilities make me want to throw up.
Nick leads me through the manor house. At this hour, the hallways are empty. I only spot one uniformed servant moving quickly around a corner. Otherwise, we pass no one.
He leads me outside. The night is clear and balmy, and the dark sky shines with hundreds of twinkling stars. It’s not quite as impressive as the sky above the ranch in Montana, but it comes close. I only wish I was in the state of mind to enjoy it properly.
