Chapter Eight
Spotting Lucian in the south gardens, Eloise headed down the abbey’s back steps, the stone beneath her green slippers cold and smooth.
She’d been so entrenched researching the windows and the ledgers in All Hallow’s library, she’d barely crossed paths with Lucian these past three days. She’d even missed Lord Graves and the chance to give him Uncle’s letter, though the duke was due back tomorrow.
A few feet away, Lucian stood waiting, his stance formal and dignified.
She meandered through the lush square to meet him, acutely aware of the shadowed agony in his eyes. “I missed you at breakfast.”
“I could only stomach a cup of tea, but I wouldn’t have made for good company even if I did care to eat.”
“I’ve yet to find your company displeasing.”
He gave a barely noticeable shake of his head, an undecipherable mumble escaping his lips.
Whatever agony he’d suffered in the past, this appeared to be darker, deeper, more conflicting.
A few steps more and they wandered into the garden proper. Rows of spire-shaped topiaries towered over them, Lucian keeping a good distance from her, his hands clasped behind his back.
Even her arms felt the chill coming off him.
He glanced at her, cursing. “You’re freezing.” He removed his coat and draped it over her shoulders, the aroma of worn leather and wool taking her back to the days when she’d rode with him through the fields at Davis Hall.
“Thank you. I should have taken my shawl.” She pulled the coat closed.
Lucian gazed across the garden, out to the sea, his black hair blowing wild in the strong breeze. “A storm is brewing. I can feel it in my leg.” He leaned on the cane.
Above, Hamish’s falcon, accompanied by a smaller merlin, soared through the sky.
“I swear that man lives to antagonize me.” Averting his gaze from the birds, Lucian headed for the garden’s potted herbs and plucked a cluster of mint before offering a leaf to her.
He popped the remaining one into his mouth. “As a child when I visited my grandfather, he often took me out here to pick mint. We also clipped roses for my grandmother.”
It would have been nice to have had similar memories.
“My grandparents died before I was born,” she said.
“But Uncle Mallory made up for that loss. I’m looking forward to him coming out next week.
We’re going to visit Abigail before going home.
I regret having missed her wedding, especially the dancing.
But I wouldn’t have changed things if I had the chance. ”
With longing overtaking his eyes, Lucian offered her his hand. “While I cannot change the fact you were stranded here, I can give you a dance. May I?”
“You may.”
He twirled her around on the grass, the sound of waves crashing below making for a fine orchestra.
Lucian drew her close. His stare, smoldering and spellbinding, was just enough to make her question if Fae magic didn’t indeed run through his veins.
God, but she loved being with this man, even if she didn’t know what the future held for them.
“You’re still the light to my darkness, Eloise. The one constant that never failed me.” He brushed his lips against hers, the gentleness of it soon giving way to an urgency that gradually unraveled her.
Her heart fluttered.
Lucian slowly glided his hand over her arm, his fingers wrapping her wrist.
The cords on her reticule came undone.
A swoosh, followed by a muffled thump lifted from somewhere near her feet.
Breaking their kiss, Lucian glanced at the ground.
She followed his gaze, her cheeks warming with embarrassment as she eyed her purse and its contents spilled out on the grass.
“Is that…my cravat?” Lucian bent and retrieved it. “You kept it all this time.”
“I did.”
“That morning…” Lucian closed his eyes as if the memory was too much to bear. He murmured a string of words coming out almost prayer-like before he captured her in his strong arms and simply held her.
Heat swarmed through her veins.
Above, the high-pitched call of a falcon screeched through the air.
Lucian released her, stumbling and shaking his head. “No, I can’t do this. Please, Eloise, leave me be…”
Eloise gasped, but the shock of his words struck her far less than the feeling sinking her heart when she witnessed him crash to his knees.
With hands clamped at his temples, Lucian knelt on the grass, his eyes closed, an apparent storm of pain hammering his body.
*
The falcon’s call triggered memories of war and of Hamish with his trained birds in Portugal. He’d put those falcons before everything, including Sully.
The haunting images of a young ghost begging him for help flooded Lucian’s thoughts.
He prayed.
Then cursed.
A soft hand graced his shoulder. “Lucian.”
Eloise.
“It’s all right, Lucian.”
The vexing images faded from his mind. He dropped his hands from his head and sucked in a cold, deep breath.
Eloise crouched beside him, the scent of her citrusy perfume lingering between them.
“You can’t live with a haunted man,” he said.
She cradled him, and not in a pitiful way but in the manner of a woman who was clinging to a hope he couldn’t give her.
“Just breathe, Lucian. All you need to do is breathe.”
He’d do anything for her, save for ruining her. “Please, Eloise. You must go back to Mallory.”
“But…”
“You must. You are my home and if you stay with me, I will bring you down, year by year, day by day until you are nothing more than a shadowed ruin of yourself. I love you.”
Eloise’s mouth opened, but only silence rolled off her tongue. Tears fell down her cheeks. She stood, retrieved his cravat from the ground, and headed back to All Hallows, her sorrow wrenching his heart.
He watched Eloise until she faded from sight. The distance between them was now back to that chasm he’d opened on what should have been their wedding day.