Page 50 of For the Love of Lilah
“I often drive down here, just to stand and feel. I think I must have been here before.”
“You just said you’d been here before.”
Her eyes were soft and dreamy as she smiled. “I mean a hundred years ago, or five hundred. Don’t you believe in reincarnation, Professor?”
“Actually, I do. I did a paper on it in college and after completing the research, I found it was a very viable theory. When you apply it to history—”
“Max.” She framed his face with her hands. “I’m crazy about you.” Her lips were curved when they met his, curved still when she drew away.
“What was that for?”
“Because I can see you, waist deep in thick books and cramped notes, your hair falling into your face and your eyebrows all drawn together the way they get when you’re concentrating, doggedly pursuing truth.”
Frowning, he tossed the cobble from hand to hand. “That’s a pretty boring image.”
“No, it’s not.” She tilted her head, studying him. “It’s a true one, an admirable one. Even courageous.”
He gave a short laugh. “Boxing yourself into a library doesn’t take courage. When I was a kid, it was a handy escape. I never had an asthma attack reading a book. I used to hide there, in books,” he continued. “It was fun imagining myself sailing with Magellan, or exploring with Lewis and Clark, dying at the Alamo or marching across a field at Antietam. Then my father would...”
“Would what?”
Uncomfortable, he shrugged. “He’d hoped for something different. He was a high school football star. Wide receiver. Played semipro for a while. The kind of man who’s never been sick a day in his life. Likes to toss back a few beers on Saturday night and hunt on weekends during the season. I’d start wheezing as soon as he put a thirty-thirty in my hands.” He tossed the cobble aside. “He wanted to make a man out of me, and never quite managed it.”
“You made yourself.” She took his hands, feeling a trembling anger for the man who hadn’t appreciated or understood the gift he’d been given. “If he isn’t proud of you, the lack is in him, not in you.”
“That’s a nice thought.” He was more than a little embarrassed that he’d pulled those old, raw feelings out. “In any case, I went my own way. I was a lot more comfortable in a classroom than I was on a football field. And the way I figure it, if I hadn’t hidden in the library all those years, I wouldn’t be standing here with you right now. This is exactly where I want to be.”
“Now that’s a nice thought.”
“If I tell you you’re beautiful, are you going to hit me?”
“Not this time.”
He pulled her against him, just to hold her as night fell. “I need to go to Bangor for a couple of days.”
“What for?”
“I located a woman who worked as a maid at The Towers the year Bianca died. She’s living in a nursing home in Bangor, and I made arrangements to interview her.” He tilted Lilah’s face to his. “Come with me.”
“Just give me time to rearrange my schedule.”
When the children were asleep, I told Nanny of my plans. I knew she was shocked that I would speak of leaving my husband. She tried to soothe. How could I explain that it wasn’t poor Fred who had caused my decision? The incident had made me realize how futile it was to remain in an unhappy and stifling marriage. Had I convinced myself that it was for the children? Their father didn’t see them as children who needed to be loved and coddled, but as pawns. Ethan and Sean he would strive to mold in his image, erasing every part of them he considered weak. Colleen, my sweet little girl, he would ignore until such time as he could marry her for profit or status.
I would not have it. Fergus, I knew, would soon wrench control from me. His pride would demand it. A governess of his choosing would follow his instructions and ignore mine. The children would be trapped in the middle of the mistake I had made.
For myself, he would see that I became no more than an ornament at his table. If I defied him, I would pay the price. I have no doubt that he meant to punish me for questioning his authority in front of our children. Whether it would be physical or emotional, I didn’t know, but I was sure the damage would be severe. Discontent I might hide from the children, open animosity I could not.
I would take them and go, find somewhere we could disappear. But first I went to Christian.
The night was moon-washed and breezy. I kept my cloak pulled tight, the hood over my hair. The puppy was snuggled at my breast. I had the carriage take me to the village, then walked to his cottage through the quiet streets with the smell of water and flowers all around. My heart was pounding in my ears as I knocked. This was the first step, and once taken, I could never go back.
But it wasn’t fear, no, it wasn’t fear that trembled through me when he opened the door. It was relief. The moment I saw him I knew the choice had already been made.
“Bianca,” he said. “What are you thinking of?”
“I must talk to you.” He was already pulling me inside. I saw that he’d been reading in the lamplight. Its warm glow and the scent of his paints soothed me more than words. I set the pup down and he immediately began to explore, sniffing into corners and making himself at home.
Christian made me sit, and no doubt sensing my nerves, brought me a brandy. As I sipped, I told him of the scene with Fergus. Though I struggled to remain calm, I could see his face, the violence in it, as his hands had closed over my throat.
