Page 90 of Intolerable
For some reason, Ruark decided to tell her the truth. He was tired of lying, even by omission, he realized. “Da told me something when he was dying. He made me promise not to marry young, that I must know my heart. I made a vow to him then that I wouldn’t wed until I was thirty.”
Her eyes widened, and her lips parted. It was a long moment before she spoke. “Thatis why you haven’t married?”
He nodded before taking a long drink of brandy, relishing the thick heat as it washed down his throat.
She blinked rapidly. “I don’t know what to say. I never expected such a thing. How on earth did you keep that to yourself for so long? What a burden for a child to suffer. I’m quite angry with your father for telling you that.”
“Why? He knew he was dying and sought to impart whatever fatherly advice he could. I’m grateful he did.” It was all Ruark had.
“Just because your father fell out of love with me doesn’t mean you would do the same.” She clucked her tongue. “Your father was far too romantic.”
Again, Ruark couldn’t contain his laughter. “You’re callinghima romantic? What does that make you?”
A smile quirked her lips. “Also a romantic, but not as silly of a one as your father. Did you know he used to write me the most ghastly poetry? He was so very deeply in love with me. I had no choice but to be swept off my feet.”
“You were also swept off your feet by Fergus.”
“Not by lines of verse that barely rhymed. Fergus was my friend, a constant companion who gave me counsel and a warm shoulder to lean on. The love I have for him came from that.”
All the assumptions Ruark had made about his mother and love fell away, leaving him feeling like an ass. “I didn’t realize that about you and Fergus.”
“Do you think I wanted to fall in love with my steward?” She laughed but completely without humor. “I knew how it would look, what people would say, but I loved him. Far more fully than I did your father. Two very different kinds of love. I think there are many. You said you’ve been in love. How did you know?”
Ruark pondered how to describe it. “I became rather obsessed. I thought about her all the time and looked forward to when we would be together.”
“That sounds like infatuation. What of the woman herself? What drew you to her? What made you feel that obsession?”
Only one woman came to mind: Cassandra. “I liked her. She was, like Fergus, a friend. I anticipated seeing her…everywhere, and my insides would warm whenever I chanced to. She made me laugh, and she gave me hope.”
“That sounds like love to me.”
Did it? Ruark wished he could be certain.
“I can see you aren’t sure.” She smiled and reached over to lightly touch his hand. “Nothing in life is without risk, my darling boy. And life without that would be very dull indeed. It sounds to me as if you’re referring to a specific woman, despite saying you’ve been in love many times.”
“Yes, it’s a specific woman.”
“And is it too late with her?”
“Probably.” Unless she hadn’t yet accepted Glastonbury’s proposal. She would have said so in the coach, wouldn’t she?
“If that’s your answer, then I’d do whatever possible to change it. If you think you’ve been in love several times, but this one woman has stuck with you, that should tell you something.” She shook her head. “I would like to kick your father right now. He has filled you with a lifetime of doubt.”
Ruark didn’t argue with her. Whether his father had done that or not, he hadn’t been wrong to caution his son. If he hadn’t, Ruark might have married Freya at eighteen years old, and now he knew that he hadn’t loved her. Not like he loved Cassandra. She understood what it was like to lose a beloved parent at a young age and to miss them still. She’d also understood and appreciated the promise he’d made instead of telling him he should break it—even telling him not to when he’d suggested it himself. And she was quick to point out his flaws, something no other woman had done. There was also her unflinching positivity, even when he’d treated her badly, she possessed the courage to look forward and move on. This wasn’t obsession, it was total devotion and surrender. He wanted her with a ferocity that was simply unmatched. She lit his entire world, and when he contemplated the future without her, he saw nothing but darkness and a never-ending void.
“Actually, his counsel led me right here.” To the woman he loved. If it wasn’t so late in the evening, he’d go and tell her right now. Late? What did the hour have to do with it? If he could gain entrance to her house, he’d go right now. But her father’s stringent butler—or any of his other staid retainers—would never allow him in.
His mother finished her brandy. “Well, then I suppose it’s good that I can’t kick him after all.” She stood and took her empty glass to the cabinet where he kept his spirits. Crossing back to Ruark, who’d also gotten to his feet, she took his hands. “I only want you to be happy. I’ve always known you were romantically inclined. That’s why I urged you to get married.”
“Not becauseyouwanted to see me wed?”
“That too,” she confessed with a light laugh. “Mothers want to see their children happily settled. That’s all I want for you—and for Kathleen.” She let him go and stepped back.
“When it comes to Kat, please remember the happily part.”
“I am trying.” With a faint grimace, she bid him good night before leaving.
Ruark strode to the window and looked into the dark back garden, his mind working. He could steal into Evesham’s house. Cassandra’s chamber was on the second floor. But where? He couldn’t very well go barging into every room looking for her. What if he encountered the duke?
