Page 141 of The Dravenhearst Brides
“You have to. Either you lose him, or you lose your life.” She kicked the noose at their feet. “Don’t you see? The whole damn bloodline is rotten to the core.”
Margot inhaled, quiet and sharp, hearing the veiled threat in Ruth’s words.
“I’ll help you.” Ruth lowered her voice. “I’ll help you get out. The way I tried to help Babette. We’ll go together, you and me.”
“You didn’t help her.” The words escaped before Margot could stop them.
The air in the rickhouse chilled.
Ruth’s jaw tightened. “What has she shown you?”
“N-n-nothing.” Margot stepped toward the door.
Ruth exhaled through her nose, the snort of a bull set to charge. “What have you seen?”
If Margot ran now, could she make it? She didn’t like her chances—Ruth was wearing pants and riding boots. She’d overtake her.
“I saw,” she breathed, “that you once loved a Dravenhearst too.”
Ruth froze.
“Loved her enough to stay.” Margot’s tone turned soft. “Loved her enough to build a life here, despite the odds. Despite what it cost. We aren’t so different, you and me.”
“You’re more right than you realize,” Ruth said, thunderclouds forming in her eyes. “You think you’ve got it all figured out, don’t you?”
Margot’s breath caught in her throat.
“But you’ve got one thing wrong, the most important thing,” Ruth continued. “I didn’t love a true Dravenhearst, not at first. I didn’t know what it really meant to love a Dravenhearst until my son was born.”
What?Margot stumbled back, banging into the door. It swung open, and Beau jumped away, melting into the shadows of the night. A scampering of paws and soft footfalls on earth. The dog was running away.
“You think you love your Dravenhearst husband?” Ruth’s eyes glowed with feverish zeal. Bright blue. Glittering like sea glass in the lantern light. “That love is the faintest shade of what I feel for my son. Motherhood changes you. It changes you in ways you can’t possibly understand.”
Even through her fear, the casual cruelty of the remark stabbed deep into Margot’s chest. The loss of her baby was still preternaturally fresh, and with four words—you can’t possibly understand—Ruth ripped the wound open. Mercilessly.
Margot bled, hemorrhaged. The floodgates thrown open to every single casually cruel slight that had ever been said to her. A lifetime of brushes aside. A lifetime of being different, never good enough.
Not a good enough sister to keep her brother.
Not a good enough daughter to keep her mother.
Not a good enough mother to keep her baby.
A lifetime of losing where she’d only ever hoped to gain. To grow. To bloom where she’d once bled.
Margot’s vision swirled. She lifted a hand to her forehead, covering her eyes. She didn’t want to watch her vision tunneling. She didn’t want to feel the flush at her neck, the sweat pouring down her back, her legs growing weak. How many times in her life had it gone this way? How many times had she let the ship go down without its captain?
Because it hurt. It hurt so damn much.
But then came a memory. Merrick’s face. Listening to her words.
That thing that hurts the most,she thought faintly,the place where the pain lives…
What had she told him?
That’s also the place where healing begins.
Margot dropped to her knees, overcome.
