Chapter 11
The pale fingers of dawn made busy pushing back the mantle of night. The fog that had stolen through the streets earlier dispersed, although pockets still lingered here and there. And there was enough of a bite in the air to herald the forthcoming change of seasons, but it was not cold enough to discourage Rian from walking. It was, he decided, perfect thinking weather, and the distance to the townhouse was a comfortable stretch for his legs. Turning his collar up against the morning breeze, he set off. At this hour of the morning there was little to disturb him.
His thoughts centered on the woman he had just left. There was no denying Isabel was a delightful creature, and he was quite taken with her, but he had also heard the rumors circulating about the two of them. According to the gossip, Lady Howard would not be opposed to receiving an offer of marriage were he to propose one. A change of attitude so remarkable it had raised many a painted brow, especially as Isabel had made no secret of her aversion to matrimony. That she would consider taking a husband had set more than tongues wagging. Wagers were being made on how much longer she would retain the title of Lady Howard. Acutely aware of the tales being spread, Rian knew it was time to address them, and so he pondered the question.
Would marriage to Isabel be such a terrible thing?
There was no denying she was beautiful. Blessed with a sharp mind and a quick wit. And she was an exhilarating lover. She was also the first woman he had met in a long time who made him realize how much he missed the daily interaction of female companionship. Perhaps it was a sign telling him to put the past behind him, settle down and take a wife again. But was Isabel the woman to fill that empty place in his life? Rian knew she certainly thought so. He was not so sure.
A dog trotting down the street captured his attention. It stopped and looked at him, canine curiosity cocking its head to one side with ears pricked before deciding Rian was no threat. Ignoring him, the dog carried on, intent on his wanderings. Watching the animal go about its business, Rian smiled. Sometimes he wished his own life could be that simple, devoid of needless complications. He sighed. He wanted his relationship with Isabel to continue exactly as it was, but he already knew that would be impossible. Despite all her protests to the contrary, Isabel was subtly asking him for more. It was nothing overt on her part; indeed to an outsider their relationship had not changed a whit, but Rian could sense a certain restlessness growing within her. No longer content with the status quo, Isabel wanted to know whether he was going to make her a more permanent part of his future. Late night suppers and afternoon trysts, while still delightful, were a temporary diversion that would bring satisfaction for only so long. With Isabel it would have to be all or nothing.
In the quiet of the early morning, Rian examined his own feelings with an honesty that was brutal, before considering the qualities he desired in a partner. He sighed with disappointment at the realization that, for all her charm and beauty, Isabel was not the woman he wanted as a wife. He couldn’t explain why he felt this way, or what necessary element she lacked, but he trusted the feeling within himself that said it was so.
While many marriages, particularly arranged ones between great families, endured without the benefit of love, it was an understanding he had no wish to be a part of. He despised the idea of a loveless match. He wanted children, and he wanted to love them in a way his own father had never been able to do. How was he going to do that if he felt only a modicum of affection for their mother? Isabel teased his body and delighted his mind, but Rian felt nothing that made him want to open his heart and share his hopes and dreams with her. A long-term future with the dark-haired beauty was doomed. They would drift apart until they were nothing more than strangers who shared a house and politely greeted each other whenever their paths crossed. Any affection they felt now would fade until it was nothing but a bittersweet memory.
Both of them deserved more.
As the early morning breeze stiffened, tugging at the hem of his coat, Rian knew he could never love Isabel the way he believed a husband should love his wife, the way he had once loved. Without any reservations, and with a depth of feeling that would continue to grow as the years passed. The love that his brother already shared with Felicity. Liam not only loved his bride to be, he was also very much in love with her. To offer any woman less would deny both of them the chance of finding true happiness, and that was something Rian was not prepared to do.
Finding the answer to a problem he didn’t even know he’d been subconsciously wrestling with, Rian acknowledged the necessity of ending his relationship with Isabel. He would be as kind as possible. He did not want to hurt her, but it would be a greater cruelty to allow her to think he might ask for her hand. For him she would always be a beautiful, cherished memory, but he could offer her no more.
He could not have said what unknown hand steered him toward the docks, but he was not terribly surprised to find himself there. The sight of the great ships always stirred something deep within him, and he took a measure of comfort in their presence. They had provided the key to his freedom a lifetime ago. Now, standing quietly in the shadows, he closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of the wharf coming to life. No gentle bird song awakened those needing to be about their business. Instead the raucous shriek of gulls, dipping and soaring overhead, mingled with the sound of early morning human activity. In a short while the area would become a center of controlled commotion as people went about their daily lives, their purpose set.
Rian’s mouth was fixed in a grim line as another problem poked at his brain, demanding his attention. What was he to do now he had returned home? He needed a purpose. Their father had kept true to his promise and disowned him. Oakhaven now belonged to Liam, though that was of little consequence to Rian. If their father had not taken charge of the matter, Rian would have found a way to legally renounce his claim to the estate. He had no need of the property or the income it provided, and his brother had more than earned the right to it long ago, but being a landowner was in their blood. Both his and Liam’s. They derived a great satisfaction from growing crops, raising livestock, and being responsible for the well-being of those who worked the land. It was something passed down the Connor line, and an occupation Rian was good at. Perhaps Liam knew of some land he could buy.
With a satisfied smile on his lips, Rian took in a deep breath. The tang of salt in the air was strong, and he savored the scent like the sweetest perfume. There would be time enough to decide his own future after Liam and Felicity were settled; for now it was enough to enjoy the crisp freshness of the morning before it became polluted by the day’s wear. Listening to the rhythmic slap of water against the stone wharf, Rian let his mind wander as the water sang to him. He thought of everything, and he thought of nothing.
* * * *
Catherine had lost all concept of time. Her mind was now locked in a secret place, and she no longer possessed the key to free it. Moving almost mechanically with a will of its own, her body slipped in and out of the fog-shrouded streets and dark alleys. Instinct drove her as she heeded the overwhelming urge to flee and put as much distance as possible between herself and the nightmare that sought her destruction.
Muddled, vague images floated before her eyes, but she could not tell if they were real or imaginary. Shadowy figures called out to her, their singsong lilt haunting, but the grip she had on reality was tenuous, and she did not trust herself to answer them. The ability to make sense of the past few hours, what little she was able to remember, was failing fast. The effort needed to recall the details was a struggle that threatened the last reserves of her depleted strength.
In the beginning each step had brought spasms of pain that screamed up her legs and clawed across her back, but after a while the chill of the night acted as a balm, numbing her to the point where she now felt nothing at all, not even the sharp stones and pebbles that cut into her bare feet. What had happened to her shoes? When did she lose them? She vaguely recalled a kind face with gentle hands slipping them on her feet. A woman who’d helped her, but who she was, Catherine no longer knew.
She told herself that it was important to remember why she hurt, but the harder she tried to grasp the reason, the further away it slipped until it disappeared entirely, and could no longer be brought to mind. She bit her lower lip in frustration, and winced at the pain. Gingerly she touched her mouth, staring at the bloodstains on her fingers in confused bewilderment. Had she bitten herself that hard? For a moment the memory danced just within reach, but it filled her with fear and so she let it slip away as silent tears spilled down her cheeks.
She reeled like a drunk through the streets and back alleys of a city she did not know. Landmarks had no meaning, and she had no idea in which direction she was going. All she could do was trust her inner compass, hoping she would recognize her destination when she arrived. She cried, muffled sobs echoing off stone bricks, but no one heeded the distorted sound carried through the dense fog. Weeping was an all too familiar sound. A man, taking her for a whore, approached only to realize his mistake after seeing her bruised and bleeding face. She clung to the shadows, waiting until the sound of his boots ringing on the cobblestones had faded before trusting herself to move. Catherine saw no one else, and if others saw her, they stayed silent and kept to their own shadows.
Onward she walked, obeying some involuntary pull, one bloody footstep in front of another until she found herself at the docks. Like a phantom she glided in and out of the shadows until she was standing at the far edge of the wharf, at the farthest point away from the ships, where she stared into the murky depths of the river. Dawn was breaking, and in a short while this place would be bustling, and people would notice her. But for now an eerie quiet filled the air, as if each block of stone beneath her feet shared her pain, and promised to act as her witness. Her body ached from the cold, injuries, and sheer, bloody exhaustion. Catherine had never felt so tired. She needed to rest but her functioning eye refused to close, and a voice in her head told her to stay focused. There was a reason she was here.
The small waves that slapped against the huge stone slabs commanded her attention. Catherine peered into the water and saw something shimmering just below the surface. Her brows knitted together as she forced herself to concentrate, but she was tired and it was difficult. But then she saw it again, and the watery reflection revealed itself. It was a face, and one that she recognized and could remember only too well. The countenance below the surface belonged to a handsome man who was strong and vital and in his prime. A man whose life held purpose. It was the way she remembered her father looking before her mother had died. A time when they had all been happy.
Seeing her father smile at her, Catherine tried to smile back, but her swollen mouth could only produce a grotesque leer. She feared the image in the water would turn away from such ugliness, but it did not. Instead her father opened his mouth and called her name.
Catherine…. Catherine….
The sound of his voice carried on the waves slapping lightly against the wharf, whispering inside her head.
Catherine…child…come to me…. Come…Catherine. Ease your pain….
She shook her head as bewilderment and confusion sought to cloud his meaning. As if sensing her difficulty, her father spoke to her again, only this time his voice carried a shaper sense of urgency.
One step Catherine…. One small step…. Then you will be with me. Come, child….
William held out his arms, his intention perfectly clear. All she needed to do was step off the edge of the dock, and she would be carried down to the murky depths of the water below. Her bloodstained feet moved her forward until she could feel her toes curl around the rough edge of the stone block. The river would surely take pity on her. Carry her to a place where she would find peace, and someone who would love her.
A dull throb pounded in her temples, forcing her to close her eye and sway as a wave of nausea roiled from the pit of her stomach. She fought off the sickening sensation, but when she was able to open her eye again, she saw her father’s face was fading along with his voice.
Come, Catherine. Hurry, child…. There isn’t much time….
The ghostly image in the water disappeared.
“No!” she shrieked hoarsely, not knowing if she spoke the word aloud or if it was nothing more than an echo inside her head. “Don’t leave me, Papa! Come back to me. Don’t leave me. Not again.”
Tears filled her eye, making the surface of the water swim before her, and as she struggled to focus on her father’s words she did not hear the approaching footsteps. One small step, her father had said, just one small step, and she would be released from the pain that now twisted itself around her heart. Free of the fire that burned her limbs. The peace she craved was a step away. It was all so easy, but as Catherine went to move forward, destiny placed its hand on her shoulder, and turned her away from a watery grave.
* * * *
Rian couldn’t have said what drew his attention to the figure standing at the far edge of the wharf. At first he thought it was the early morning light playing tricks. The remnants of morning fog producing a phantom in the mist. Something that wasn’t really there. But then some unfathomable sense tugged at him, and he began to walk toward it.
The figure was no phantom, but it was difficult to tell if it was male or female due to the folds of the cloak draped about its shoulders. Still, Rian’s curiosity was pricked, and as he grew closer a shift in movement revealed the outline of feminine curves. His brow wrinkled with concern. It was too early for a dockside whore to be plying her trade, and it made no sense to be so far away from the wharf-side taverns and inns. Paying customers did not stray this far at any time of the day or night, so what reason had brought her to this lonely place?
It struck him that perhaps the girl was in some trouble, and too frightened to return to whoever claimed responsibility for her. Perhaps she had been robbed, or a customer had refused to pay for her services. Generous by nature, Rian decided if a few coins could make the difference, then he would gladly give them. He was not ashamed to admit that as a young man he had eased his loneliness from time to time by taking comfort in her profession. It would be a small token of his appreciation for kindness received when he’d had need of it.
Going closer, Rian happened to glance down, noticing the paving stones were stained with blotches that looked remarkably like footprints. Bloody footprints. His frown deepened when he saw bare feet beneath the hem of the cloak the girl wore. And this was another curiosity, for even in the early morning light he could see that the quality of the garment was too fine to belong to a common streetwalker. Was this the source of the girl’s woes? Had she stolen the cloak? It would not be unheard of: Thievery and prostitution were more often than not two sides of the same coin.
He continued his approach, making no effort to disguise his footsteps, but the girl gave no indication she heard him. Whatever problem she wrestled with, it was weighty enough to render her oblivious to everything around her. Seeing how close she was to the edge of the wharf, Rian prayed he did not startle her. A sudden loss of balance would send her tumbling into the murky water, where she could easily be carried away by the river’s strong undercurrent.
The inexplicable sense that had tugged at him before now increased in intensity. Rian could almost smell the scent of despair clinging to the girl, and the thick, cloying perfume filled his nostrils. Intuition told him a handful of coins, no matter how generous or well intentioned, would not ease the girl’s misfortune. And that did not sit well with him.
He was behind her now, and yet she still seemed completely unaware of his presence, her attention firmly fixed on something in the water. She cried out, her words garbled and incoherent, but Rian had no difficulty in recognizing the anguish behind them. It was the most pitiful sound he had ever heard, and it set his course. Carefully he reached out a hand and grasped her shoulder. Keeping his hold firm and true in case she might still stumble, Rian slowly turned her toward him.
Very few things in life took Rian by surprise, but this was one of them, and he found himself uncharacteristically struck dumb. With one sweeping glance he took in the white blonde hair that tumbled about her face, the swollen, bruised mouth and the discolorations along either side of her jaw. But what troubled him most, set him back on his heels, was the fear, distrust and pain that were so clearly reflected in the one eye that gazed steadily at him. An orb of deep, infinite blue, it held him fast, refusing to look away despite the horror Rian could see there. But then she blinked, thick lashes sweeping downward, and this time when she looked at him, Rian saw something else.
Beyond the terror he saw a need that called to him. A want that awakened an unexpected impulse, inflaming a need of his own. This one more basic, more primal, shocking Rian with the sudden protective impulse he felt. Whoever she was, she was no dockside whore, but as he opened his mouth to reassure her, that disturbing blue eye rolled back in her head, and she slumped against him.