Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 112133 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 561(@200wpm)___ 449(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112133 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 561(@200wpm)___ 449(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
He took the wooden rose from her hand and gave it a rueful smile. “I know they’re pitiful. But the work gave me something to pass the time if I woke in the night.”
“Why flowers?”
He shrugged. “I promised you flowers, didn’t I?”
She couldn’t even answer, for the sharp pinch in her chest.
“My first attempts were far worse than these, if you can believe it. They came easier once I switched to my left hand. You gave me that idea.”
Meredith turned to the window, unable to meet his gaze. “Tulips for this one, did you say? Then it must be the best.”
“It is.” He put his hands on her shoulders and nudged her close to the glass. “When it’s a clear day, up this high, you can see for miles. And if you face the downslope and look very sharp, you can just make out a thin slice of blue, a shade darker than the sky. That’s the ocean, Merry. Right off the Devonshire coast.” His thumbs stroked her shoulders. “Of course, you can’t see it now.”
No. No, she couldn’t. All she could see was the blackness outside reflecting their own image, like a mirror. Even in this imperfect, dark reflection, she could see the excitement in his expression, the spark in his eyes. All the emotion he’d been holding back—he’d poured it all into this house. Not only emotion, but hard work and good faith.
They’d built something too, between them. Just as he’d said from the first. In the course of all those conversations and kisses and time spent in one another’s company, they’d pieced together something wonderful—something with lace curtains and corner closets and an ocean view. Not just a house, but a loving home.
How would Rhys react when he learned it was all built on a foundation of misconceptions and needless guilt? Meredith didn’t want to find out, but she needed to.
She had to tell him everything. Tonight.
His grip tightened on her shoulders. “You deserve so much more, but this is only the beginning. I’m going to rebuild the whole estate in time, and you’re going to live in true luxury. The finest furnishings, a whole fleet of servants. I promise, you’ll never lift a finger again.”
“You needn’t promise me anything.”
“I want to. I owe it to you and your father both. You’ve suffered for years on my account, and now it’s—”
“No.” She turned to face him. “Please don’t speak to me of fate or fires or obligation.”
Frowning a little, he smoothed the hair from her brow. “Merry, I don’t know what more I can say. I’ve tried my best with the romance, but—”
She gasped. Romance. “Oh, no. Oh, God.”
“What is it?”
“Cora. We’re here to find Cora.”
Rhys swore viciously. How could he have forgotten their errand, for even one second? The guilt he felt was mirrored on Meredith’s face.
Shrugging away from him, she went for her lamp. “We’ve spent enough time here. We’ve got to go search the ruins.” Together they scrambled up the bluff. Once they reached the ruins of Nethermoor Hall, they separated at what remained of the front entrance and circled in opposite directions. Rhys took the outer perimeter, and Meredith followed the inner wall. They each stumbled and shouted their way around the ruin, calling Cora’s name until they were hoarse. Nothing.
He reunited with Meredith at the crumbling arch. The glow of her lamp bobbed in the mist. The wind was picking up.
“Any sign of her?” he asked.
“No.”
Thunder rumbled in the distance. Perfect. Just what they needed, a storm. “I suppose we should be getting back to the village, then. Perhaps she’s turned up elsewhere.”
The bobbing glow stilled. “We haven’t checked every part of the ruin yet.”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
Though he knew damn well what she meant. Had he forgotten that place, truly? Or had he just wanted to forget it so fiercely that he’d managed to wipe it from his mind? But Meredith was right … if Cora had wandered up here, the cellar would have made a logical haven from the mist and cold. They would need to look.
“I’ll go alone,” she said.
“No,” he said. “No, you can’t go alone. It’s not safe.” That place wasn’t safe, not for anyone. It never had been. But he’d be damned if he’d let her think that he—who’d faced down Napoleon’s Imperial Guardsmen and hamfisted prizefighters alike—was afraid of a damned cellar, filled with nothing but cobwebs and shadow.
Her light swayed as she transferred it from one hand to the other, and for a moment, the features of her face were caressed by soft, smoky light. With her free hand, she reached through the mist to take his. “We’ll go together. And we’ll do it quickly.”
He allowed her to lead the way to the cellar entrance. She seemed to know the way better than he did. It was well-hidden now, obscured by haphazard piles of masonry. Hand in hand, they picked their way over the strewn boulders and found the stairway. The rocks teetered and clacked a bit as they scrambled over them.