Chapter Sixteen
Dear Lady Amelia,
You can run away or run to. The choice is always yours.
Your truly,
Mrs. Dove-Lyon
Amelia was not the kind to run from anything.
Not when her sister threw a frog at her face that one afternoon playing by the pond.
Not when her mother made her learn needlepoint at the age of five, and she had shown her by embroidering her full name onto a pillow.
Not when that little neighbor tried to kiss her on the cheek.
No. She had kicked him between the legs and turned on her heel, marching off with her head held high.
No. She hadn’t run any of those times. Not even when her sister’s scandal was about to explode and ruin her reputation. Even then, she had straightened her spine and literally walked into the Lyon’s Den.
But one short word of praise from Benedict had her head spinning. She knew she would never be a mother. A wife. With a family. But his words reopened those dreams. And they didn’t seep out. They flew out of the box she had been keeping them in and they didn’t look containable.
Her cheeks were cold as she ran. Trying to outrun her dreams. Along with the man that plagued them.
Not until she swiped at them did she realize that her tears were making them even colder.
“Amelia!” His deep voice rushed along the wind. “Wait.” He was catching up to her. Nearly out of breath already, she needed to escape him.
She dashed into the trees. If she couldn’t outrun him, maybe she could hide away long enough for him to lose interest.
Chest heaving, she pushed her back against a tree. Fingers biting into the bark, she squeezed her eyes shut, willing the tears to stop. Those damn tears. She hadn’t cried in ages. Why now? Why when he would be the one to see them?
But the tears weren’t stopping, so she pressed her palms against her eyes. Surely the physical force would stop them.
“Amelia?” His voice was growing louder with each step that he drew closer to her.
Her legs ached from running, and he was too near for her to move without him finding her. There was no chance she could outrun or outmaneuver him. This was her best bet. Stick to the tree. Hide away.
And wasn’t that what she had been doing for a while now? The willing spinster. Hide away. No one will find you. And if no one can find you, no one can hurt you.
That was the easy way to live. Avoid people.
Avoid disappointment. Live the new life that lay ahead.
Being a spinster wouldn’t be so bad. She could do whatever she wanted.
Within reason. She could spend all her time knitting, baking, and riding.
To her heart’s content. Yes…but now the question was, how much knitting, baking, and riding would it take to make her heart content?
No. She dismissed the doubt. There was no room for skepticism of a future that she was forced to accept.
His voice was breathless, yet still loud. “Please let me take you home. It’s going to rain. You shouldn’t be out here.”
Of course he had the most logical reason to find her. It wasn’t about her. This was about him needing to be the protector. He was a good person, but still not one of the good ones who might see her as a woman. A woman that could be his wife. Or the mother of his children.
Oh, those thoughts hurt her heart. Like someone had reached inside of her and ripped it in half. Her legs trembled and she sunk to the ground.
The sound alerted Benedict to her whereabouts and he instantly appeared at her side. On his knees, he took her hand-covered face in his.
His voice softened. “Amelia? What’s wrong?”
She just shook her head. Trying to fling off the compassion. The pain. The dreams. Everything.
“Just leave me alone,” she whispered. “Please.”
“I can’t do that, Amelia.”
“I’ll be fine in the rain.” She sniffled, mortified that he should see her like this. “There’s a small cabin just through the trees. I can go there.” She tried to drop her head to her knees, but instead, she felt strong arms wrap around her body and lift her up.
The man was a beast in strength and agility, rising to standing as if she weighed nothing.
“Wh-what are you—”
“Where’s this cabin?” His voice brooked no argument while his steely eyes surveyed the trees surrounding them.
“We can’t go there together—”
“We’re not going to make it home before the rain comes.”
“That’s ridicu—” a raindrop landed on her lips, stilting her words.
“You were saying?” She peeked up at him through her already damp lashes. Damn. That was a mistake. The fire in his eyes burned through her. A trail of molten lava crawling through her body. “Now. Where’s the cabin?”
Soft murmurs were all she could manage as she directed him to her sacred place.