Page 72 of This Haunted Heart

“I’ll be sorry forevermore.”

I pressed another, longer kiss into her hair. “Get some sleep.”

“What if the fire goes out?” she asked softly.

“The sconce will stay lit, and I won’t let the fire go out.”

“Promise?”

“I’d never leave you in the dark, Rynn. I promise.”

Chapter 18

Rynn Mavis

Iawoke on the sofa before Lochlan did. Weak sunlight filtered in through the eastern windows. The fire continued to burn in the hearth, evidence that a fresh log had been added to it recently. I laid a palm on his chest, my way of thanking him for keeping the darkness at bay. My hand rose and fell with his even breathing.

I re-dressed in the floral tea gown from the previous day, attended to my morning ablutions, then made my way to the kitchen, craving company.

I talked at Martha while she prepared breakfast, and I snacked on yesterday’s bread and some cheese. She always made something for herself as well out of habit but never ate it, of course. She couldn’t talk back to me, but I sensed she liked my presence there, enjoyed hearing her name on mylips, cherished being remembered. I assisted with a lot of the things I used to when I was a girl in her kitchen.

I wasn’t doing it for anyone but myself, so I didn’t mind the labor.

I peeled potatoes and boiled eggs. I chopped vegetables. I attended to all the things she sat in front of me.

Before, I’d tried to receive deliveries when they arrived at the back door, but the young boy who made them always behaved strangely. That morning, it was just the same. There was a thunderous knock that nearly startled me out of my stool. The familiar sound of dropping parcels and a hurled newspaper came next, and I opened the back door just in time to catch the young man sprinting away like a startled rabbit.

“Silly boy,” I said to the young man’s retreating back as he streaked across the gardens. “Imagine anyone being afraid of little ole you,” I told Martha.

The room warmed at that. Something brushed across my arm, like a veil against my skin, and I touched that spot on my forearm gingerly, feeling close again to the woman who’d been like a grandmother to me.

Lochlan came into the kitchen then. He hovered by the door. “There you are. What are you doing in here?”

“Just keeping Martha company,” I told him.

His expression hardened. “Oh,” he said.

My stomach plummeted. If Lochlan still couldn’t let go of his anger at poor Martha, of all people, what chance did I have of ever earning his forgiveness? Last night he’d been quick to comfort me. We’d shared that crowded sofa, and he was as gentle with me as he always was, but the glimmer of hope his affection had given me was dashed yet again. The thought soured my appetite completely.

“Your breakfast should be ready soon,” I said gently, rising from my stool at the table.

“Aren’t you going to dine with me?” he asked.

“Not this time. I had some bread and cheese already, and I’m not very hungry . . . See you soon, Martha,” I said, then I brushed by him out of the kitchen, eyes averted.

Considering how soon Lochlan came up to my room thereafter, I doubted he’d had much to eat himself. He gave me enough time to pin up my hair and change into fresh clothing, a dark blue day dress. The skirt was gathered high in the front and hung long in the back. I had just settled in the window seat with a copy ofPurgatoriowhen there was a tentative knock at my door.

“Can I come in?” he called through the wood.

“Of course,” I told him, setting the book down in my lap.

As he entered, the room filled with the scent of talcum powder, and a bouquet of bright pink peonies appeared in the vase on the mantel.Paeonia lactiflora, the apology flower. Lochlan moved towards the center of my room but halted when his boots squelched in a puddle on the carpet. He frowned down at it.

Dirty ditchwater began to leak from the ceiling and down the walls, dripping in brown and gray rivulets over the fireplace.

“Not again,” I groaned.

“That ghost is still lingering around here, is he?” Lochlan said.

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