Page 96 of Enticing the Devil

“I’m starting to wonder if you know your wife at all. Anne is far more capable than you might believe.”

Shame rushed through him. He’d hated how others always seemed to underestimate Anne. Yet he’d done the exact same thing. And he did know better.

“Your wife was unhappy here, so she went to find her own contentment. And from what I’ve seen, she’s turned that little cottage into a lovely home.”

Beynon clenched his teeth. “You went to see her?”

“Of course. Several times, in fact, as have the children, which you’d know if you bothered to peek your head out of this room. But my point is...she deserves more. You both do.”

“You don’t understand,” he muttered.

“Bullocks.” His mother stepped around the desk and took his face in her hands. “If there’s one thing I know about you,” she continued forcefully, “it’s when you’re fighting your feelings. Your emotions have always been written all over your face. Even your darkest glowers can’t hide them,” she added with a flicker of a smile and brusque pat on the cheeks. “You love her. So much it hurts you. Go after her, Beynon.”

He closed his eyes as an icy wash of regret flowed through him. “It doesn’t matter, Mam. She’s better off without me.”

Releasing his face, his mother took a step back. Her hands returned to her hips. “How do you know? Have you asked her? Have you told her how you feel?”

He’d intended to...right before he’d discovered she’d left him. He’d never felt pain like he had when he’d realized she was gone. It had torn through him like a winter storm, chilling him to the bone.

Glynnis made another exasperated sound. “Why do you think she only went as far as the village?”

He gave a heavy shake of his head. “Her friends are probably on their way to come get her even now.”

“She let the cottage for a full year, Beynon,” his mother said softly.

A year? So, she wasn’t intending to leave? Why?

Rising to his feet, he crossed to the window. Could there still be hope? Without turning around, he asked in a low voice, “What if she doesn’t want me?”

“Then you’ll do what you’ve always done.”

He glanced over his shoulder, brows drawn in question.

His mother grinned. “You’ll fight.”

#

BEYNON DECIDED TO WALK to the village. It wasn’t a short distance, but he needed the physical exertion to tame the chaotic energy inside him and the time to think through what he’d say to Anne. Even after taking a detour to pace back and forth in an open pasture, he still didn’t have the right words. But as twilight started to fall and he realized he’d be walking home in full dark at this rate, he charged into the village with a stern, if not slightly terrified, determination.

His mother had told him Anne was staying in a tiny cottage set back from the main road within a cluster of ancient oaks. As he turned up the footpath and started toward the tiny stone house, he struggled to believe this was where Anne had been staying for the last three weeks.

It was little more than a hut.

The roof needed rethatching before winter and most of the shutters were warped, loose, or missing altogether. Vines grew up the walls and chimney and the old picket fence barely held back the riot of flowers overflowing the front path.

It was a far cry from the grand estates she was used to.

She’d been comfortable enough at Gwaynynog.

Comfortable but unhappy.

Because of you!

He was still struggling to reconcile everything his mother had said. The hope that had taken root inside him warred with the fear that it might be far too late.

But he was here now. Standing in front of her door. If he left...he’d never know if there was anything to hope for.

Reaching the cottage door, he gave a solid knock that seemed to echo in the silent approach of night.

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