Page 69 of My Duke, The Stranger
The only thing that stopped Cassian was the dull realization that he wasn’t quite ready yet. To kiss her would be to finalize his journey, and the time for that had not yet come.
“I am glad you liked the view,” he said, looking away. “And thank you, too, Isolde.”
“What for?”
“For today,” he said with a soft chuckle. “Somehow, I doubt that your brother and sister’s visit was just a coincidence.”
She grinned. “Are you accusing me of something sinister?”
“You? Always,” he said, to which she laughed.
Slow steps taken… the direction set… all that was left was for Cassian to make peace with his past so he could focus on the future. A day that he was sure would come when his memories returned fully. And for the first time in a long time, he looked forward to it.
For the first time, hewantedto know more.
Twenty-Eight
Isolde woke to a gray morning; the possibility of an incoming storm a not-so-subtle threat as thick clouds gathered overhead and cool winds whipped against the manor as if trying to tear it down. It was the type of morning that might have caused a sullen mood to descend upon Isolde, as she always preferred clear skies and the warm sun.
However, as she walked to her window and saw approaching rainclouds that were sure to keep her indoors all day long, she smiled in a way that might not have been expected but was entirely too predictable.
Today promises to be a good day… and the next… and the one after that.
Her plan had worked perfectly, and last night was proof of the fact. She had known that Cassian did not truly wish to return to what he had once been, that deep within he yearned to be free of the shackles that restrained him so that he might dare to behappy and live and love as he deserved. And she had known that if she persisted, if she showed him the way, that he would accept that about himself.
Once, his life was a tragedy, of that she would not deny. But such tragedies did not have to define one forever. In fact, Isolde believed that the best way to overcome sorrow was to face it down with a smile, proof that such things were always possible.
Cassian’s memories were returning slowly. He was remembering each day why he was one who used to be feared, spoken of in hushed whispers in case he might hear. And while those memories clearly brought with them pain, Isolde would be there to help him overcome that pain, move on from it, and grow as a result.
Better still, after last night, she knew that he wanted her help. He was willing. He was agreeable. He had what it took to be the man that she knew he could be…no, the man who he is. Who he has always been.
So, she smiled as she looked at the gray skies, excited to see what the day might bring.
Sadly, it was as she turned from the window, as she readied for the day that would come, that the smile dropped from her face. And that had everything to do with Mr. Pembroke, who strode into her room with an expression of utmost worry and fear.
“Oh, good, you’re awake.”
“Mr. Pembroke…” Isolde hesitated, taking immediate note of his dour expression and how withdrawn his posture was. “What’s wrong? What is it?”
He came to a stop and sighed. “A messenger arrived this morning for you, Your Grace. It was not a letter, otherwise I would not have dared read it.”
“From whom?” Her stomach dropped. “What did it say?”
“It was from your sister,” he explained, speaking slowly and carefully. “Apparently… and I do wish to make clear that the details were scarce… the messenger was told to inform you that your father’s health has taken a turn for the worse and?—”
Isolde was already halfway across the room.
“Your Grace!” Mr. Pembroke called after her. “Where are you?—”
“Where do you think?” she cried over her shoulder, her mind turning with worry as the worst of thoughts washed over her.
This is all my fault!
Isolde had married Cassian precisely because she needed to find a way to save her family. Their ailing parish was a part of it, the hope that she might convince Cassian to aid it in any way that he could. But her father’s health had also been a motivating factor, a sickness that was insidious in the way that it was slowly draining the life from him.
For the past few years, Isolde had held out hope that her father would get better. In fact, she had believed that once the problems facing their parish were fixed, his health might return; that the two were linked and one would solve the other.
Frustratingly, her marriage to Cassian had not been nearly so simple, and these last few weeks had forced Isolde to hold off on asking for help until she was able to convince Cassian that she was not the worst of people. She had still intended to ask him, but not until they were in a better place.
