by Bree Wolf
William nodded, and a knowing smile came to his lips. “As do I.”
“I know,” Catherine whispered, and their eyes met as he looked up at her, the hint of a question in his. “You used to ride out together,” she continued. “No matter what, rain or sunshine, cold or warm, hardly a day passed that you wouldn’t find your way outdoors.”
“It is beautiful, is it not?” William whispered as his eyes travelled over the snow-covered world. “The air is so fresh and carries a multitude of scents. As it flies through the land, it touches so many things and takes a little bit with it, allowing us a glimpse of places far away.”
Listening to him, Catherine smiled. “Water is never just water. Early in the morning it smells different than it does at night. Just like snow smells different than rain.”
Again, William nodded, a hint of awe on his face. “Did she tell you all that?”
Catherine swallowed as the magic of the moment had her momentarily forget that she was only speaking on behalf of her sister. “She did, yes. She was always amazed at how similar you two saw the world. She’d never met anyone like you.” On the last word, her voice broke, and she quickly cleared her throat, striding a few steps ahead.
Catching up to her, William looked apologetic, his face suddenly devoid of the glow that had been there only moments before. “I apologise. It must be hard for you to see your sister so distraught.”
Inhaling deeply, Catherine nodded, torn between speaking the truth and guarding her husband’s heart from the pain it would bring. As she looked into his eyes though, open and honest, Catherine knew that she at least ought to answer his direct questions as honestly as she could. “She is devastated,” she finally said.
He cringed slightly, and the muscles in his jaw tightened.
Instantly, Catherine felt regret. “I know that this is not your fault, and she doesn’t blame you. Don’t ever think that!”
The hint of a grateful smile on his lips, he nodded. “Still, I cannot help but feel responsible. She is my wife, and she deserves everything that I can give her. And now the one thing she desires is the one thing I don’t have to give.” Sadness and regret clung to his eyes as he walked a few steps ahead, his head bent and his shoulders slumped.
Feeling her husband’s pain even more acutely than she felt her own, Catherine bent down and gathered a handful of snow, packing it tighter and tighter. Then she bit her lower lip, hesitating for only a moment, and with all the strength she had threw the snowball at him.
It hit him square in the back, and he spun around, eyes wide, staring at her.
Pushing all her anxiety away, Catherine laughed, willing him to smile and laugh with her and at least for a few moments forget the situation that had them both on edge all the time. “I apologise, my lord,” she said with a big grin on her face. “I ought not to have attacked you while you’re back was turned.” Then she bent down and gathered another handful of snow. “Now, however, we are evenly matched.”
For a second, he looked confused, but then a smile came to his lips that had the pulse hammering in her veins. “If you insist, my lady,” he answered her challenge, scooping white ammunition into his hands. “But I must warn you. I will show no mercy.”
Catherine laughed and fired her second snowball.
This time, he saw it coming and dunked just in time. Then he threw his own snowball. It hit her left shoulder, and she tumbled to the ground, a mock cry of outrage tearing from her lips.
Convinced that she had been hurt, William rushed toward her, a hint of panic twisting his features before another snowball hit him right in the face.
Stopping in his tracks, he brushed the snow out of his face, his skin already reddened by the cold. Then he blinked at her as she pushed herself back onto her feet. “My lady, I must admit I underestimated you.”
A true smile on her face, Catherine met his eyes. “Then let this be a lesson to you, my lord. En garde!” she called and immediately gathered more snow.
As they scrambled through the garden, flinging snowballs back and forth, occasionally losing their footing and falling into the snow, Catherine allowed herself to forget the accident and all that had followed. How often had they engaged in a snowball fight? She couldn’t remember. Although this was only the second winter that they had known each other, it had already become a tradition, and her heart soared as she saw the glow in his eyes and the smile on his face.
Her husband might not remember her, but deep down, he remembered the feeling of chasing her around the garden, the crisp air in his lungs and the cold wind chilling his face. At the very least, it felt familiar; Catherine was certain of it.
Maybe Wesley had been right. Even if William never remembered the snowball fights they’d had, maybe he would still remember the feeling he’d always had when he’d thrown a snowball at her face. And wasn’t that more important? After all, what was love? Was it truly just a word?
No, it was much more than that. It was something that one couldn’t explain, couldn’t put into words at all and do it justice. Hopefully, it was also something that couldn’t be lost, at least not for good.
Chapter Five − A Scoundrel
“See? I told you my plan would work,” Christine beamed after Catherine had just related the events of that morning. Once again, they had gathered in Catherine’s bedchamber under the pretence to keep her company. After all, after their shared supper the night before, she was still too distraught to venture downstairs; at least, that’s what they told William. “I’m certain he will remember you.”
Catherine sighed. “I can only hope you’re right.”
“Have you ever known me to be wrong?” Christine asked, raising an eyebrow in challenge.
Wesley laughed.
She turned on him, her eyes narrowed. “Well, have you?”
Unwilling to take the bait, Wesley shrugged. “Not so far.”
For a moment, she eyed him as though all logic failed her when it came to understanding the workings of his mind before she completely disregarded him and turned back to Catherine. “As I said, he will remember you. So, what’s next?”
“What do you mean?” Catherine frowned.
“Well, we need to create opportunities for the two of you to be together,” Christine said, “preferably alone. We cannot leave that to chance. That might take too long.”
Wesley cleared his throat. “While we’re on the subject,” he turned to Christine, “have you considered leaving?”
“Leaving?”
Wesley nodded. “The estate, I mean. I imagine your presence here is less than beneficial.”
While Christine harrumphed as though he had just insulted her, Catherine asked, “But where could she go? And for what reason? As his wife, she belongs at his side.”
Christine sighed, rolling her eyes at them. “Well, I could always have an ailing friend in need,” she said as though it were the most obvious answer in the world. “I will simply talk to Will and tell him that I received a message from a friend begging me to call on her.”
“But you would have to go see one of my friends, wouldn’t you?” Catherine asked with a frown. This was getting complicated.
Stepping forward, Wesley cut Christine off. “I suggest that we involve as few people in this as possible.” He looked at Christine. “Tell Will what you said,” he turned his gaze to Catherine, “and then I will take her to Sanford Manor.”
“Sanford Manor?” Christine asked, a deep frown on her face. “What on earth would I do there?”
“Stay out of the way,” Wesley replied. “After all, you cannot be seen in society as yourself because you are supposed to be here, aiding your brother-in-law. Neither can you meet people pretending to be Catherine because those that do not suffer from memory loss will recognise you,” he said a devilish grin on his face.
Her brows narrowed. “Are you mocking me?” she snapped.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said and turned his attention back to Catherine. “I’ll take her to Sa
nford Manor. As you know, it’s a small estate with only a handful servants, and as long as she stays in her room, that shouldn’t pose a problem.”
“Excuse me!” Christine huffed, her eyes wide with indignation.
Ignoring her, Wesley’s gaze stayed on Catherine. “What do you think?”
Catherine nodded. “It sounds reasonable, and it would certainly help him to relax,” she said, remembering the tension in her husband’s shoulders at supper the night before. Then she glanced at her sister before returning her eyes to her brother-in-law. “Only…will it be proper for you to escort her to the estate without a chaperone to accompany you?”
Again, Christine huffed as she stepped forward and almost elbowed Wesley out of the way. “Do not worry, dear sister. People will have no reason to gossip. After all, he is my brother-in-law.”
“I’m not your brother-in-law,” Wesley growled behind her. “I’m Catherine’s brother-in-law.”
Turning to him, Christine narrowed her eyes. “And since I’ll be Catherine, you’ll be my brother-in-law, understood?”
Wesley grumbled something unintelligible under his breath as he shook his head. Then he stepped away from the two women and toward the window, his frame tense as though something upset him.
Smiling at her sister, Christine said, “Don’t worry. You’ll be fine.” Then she sighed. “I, on the other hand, will suffer greatly.”
Catherine’s eyes widened. “Are you worried about your reputation after all?” Catherine knew that her sister had always laughed at the idea of finding a husband, but maybe her intentions had changed. Maybe as she left her youth behind, she had come to look upon the idea of a family with different eyes.
“Oh, aren’t you a dear?” Christine chuckled, shaking her head as though Catherine had just told the most marvellous joke. “No, dear, I’m worried about being locked up in a small country estate for one reason alone,” she glanced at Wesley, who still had his back turned, “and that is boredom.”
***
Standing in the front drawing room, his eyes focused on the snow-covered drive leading up to the front stoop, William sighed as he remembered the morning he had spent in a snowball fight with his sister-in-law.
Despite the cold, it had felt wonderful to escape the world for just one moment. Stumbling through the snow, ducking snowballs fired at his head, William had felt all of his worries slip away. He had laughed and grinned, chuckled and smiled in a way he would never have thought possible.
Christine had been a wonderful distraction. And yet, a part of him questioned whether that was the true reason for the touch of excitement that coursed through his veins whenever he remembered her rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes, her joyous laughter intoxicating and compelling like a siren’s call.
“Will!”
Flinching at his brother’s voice, William spun around, forcing the grin from his face that he had seen only too visibly reflected back at him in the frosted window. He cleared his throat and turned to his brother as he came walking into the drawing room, Catherine as well as…Christine following close behind.
William took a deep breath, his eyes focused on Wesley as he inclined his head to the two ladies. “Is something wrong?” he asked, disturbed by the slight hitch to his voice. Again, he cleared his throat.
“Well,” Wesley began, his eyes darting to Catherine, who consequently stepped forward, a handkerchief clutched in her hand that she occasionally brought up to her face, dabbing it to her eyes and nose, sniffling slightly, her gaze barely meeting his.
His wife, too, cleared her throat before she took a deep breath and finally looked up at him. “I need to speak with you, William.”
At her words, a cold shiver ran down his back, and he inadvertently glanced at her sister. Although Christine stood with her head slightly lowered, he found her glancing up from under her long eyelashes. When their eyes met, she quickly averted her gaze, a hint of colour tinging her cheeks.
Forcing his attention back to his wife, William did his best to listen.
“I’ve received a message from a friend,” she said, her voice quiet, as she fingered the rim of her handkerchief, her eyes drawn down to its floral pattern. “Her son was stillborn only a few days ago.”
William drew in a sharp breath, and his heart warmed to the sorrow in her voice. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. For a moment, he felt compelled to reach out and take her hand, but then reconsidered. It would serve no one to pretend that he could comfort her.
“I’m her closest friend,” his wife continued, “and she asked me to come.” Her eyes looked up into his. “I cannot refuse her. Please understand.”
“Of course,” William quickly agreed before his eyes once more drifted to his sister-in-law and the breath caught in his throat. She would be leaving as well.
“I believe a little distance will do us good,” his wife said, her shoulders slumped as though his mere presence was causing her pain. “Being here in the same house with you, our house, it’s just…,” closing her eyes, she shook her head, “it’s just unbearable. I need some time alone to come to accept that things are different now, that you do not remember me. Maybe with a little distance, we can begin again.”
William nodded. However, deep down, he knew that he did not wish for the same. This woman standing in front of him, his wife, was a stranger he did not recognise. Nothing in her demeanour, the way she spoke, the look in her eyes, the curl of her lips stirred a memory within him, neither factual nor emotional, and his heart sank. How were they to go on? Would time truly help? Or were they simply fooling themselves because they had no alternative?
Catherine sighed. “Wesley has offered to escort me,” she said before glancing over her shoulder at her sister, “while Christine will stay here with you and try to help you remember. I can only hope that some of what she says will find an echo within you, and that one day, you’ll remember the life we shared.”
William barely heard the last words his wife spoke for the breath caught in his throat at the thought of spending more time with Christine. Relief flooded his chest, and although he felt for his wife, he could not deny the spark of excitement that sprang to life when he pictured Christine’s beautiful eyes, her cheeks flushed with the cold as well as a sense of adventure. For all he looked, he could not see her as a woman driven by vanity and the need for societal acceptance. Whenever he looked at her, he saw a woman he could−
Before he could even finish the thought, William flinched and heat rose up his cheeks. She was his sister-in-law, he had no right to think about her the way he had…or almost had. Clearing his throat, he focused his attention on his wife.
“We will be leaving on the morrow,” Catherine said, her eyes shifting to his brother for a moment.
William thought she would say more, but she remained silent, her fingers still playing with the rim of her handkerchief while her eyes did not dare meet his.
As the silence began to stretch, Wesley stepped forward. “Since everything is settled,” he said, looking from William to Catherine, “maybe you should have your things packed.”
His wife nodded, and with a last glance at him, she turned and left the room, her sister beside her.
Staring after them, William didn’t know what to feel. His emotions wreaked havoc on his heart and mind, and he could feel the beginnings of a headache pulsing beneath his left temple.
“Do not worry,” Wesley said, and William turned to look at him. “I promise you I will take care of her.” He glanced at the door, then back at William and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I know this is hard, but I do believe this is for the best. You both need some time, and Christine will remain to help you remember.”
William nodded, fighting to suppress the smile that threatened to surface. What would his brother think if he knew what was going on inside his head? Surely, he would think him a scoundrel!
Chapter Six − A Sleigh Ride
The next morning came faster than expected, and to William’s surp
rise and (grudging) delight, his wife decided to leave before breakfast. Sad eyes met his as she told him that she did not feel hungry at all and would rather get an early start.
While the footmen loaded the luggage onto the carriage, Catherine and Wesley said their goodbyes. Standing off to the side, his wife hugged her sister and silent words were exchanged before she once more turned to him.
“Goodbye, William,” she whispered, her voice once again barely audible as though she didn’t have the strength to speak louder. “Please,” she swallowed, “please do your utmost to remember…me.”
Unable to meet her eyes, William nodded, then offered her his arm and escorted her down the front stoop and into the waiting carriage. With a hint of disappointment, he noticed that the touch of her arm looped through his didn’t stir any feelings of recognition, of familiarity, let alone a spark of passion.
As he stepped back, his brother gave him an affectionate hug, then slapped his shoulder, a devilish grin on his face that had William puzzled. “I know that you remembered something,” he whispered. “I saw it in your eyes yesterday.”
William tensed.
“Don’t worry,” Wesley chuckled. “I will not say a word to your wife, but I am glad that Christine has found a way to help you after all. Whatever she said, it must have stirred something within you.” He nodded. “There is hope.” Then he turned around and took his place in the carriage.
As the horses trotted down the snow-covered drive, William stood on the stoop and stared after the carriage, his brother’s words echoing in his mind. Indeed, Christine had stirred something within him, only it had not been a memory she had conjured, but instead she had…what had she done?
Shaking his head, William felt as though he had been bewitched. The day before he had hurried after her into the gardens, determined to ask for her help, and she had…she had…
