Chapter 16
Catherine whirled as the bridge gave way behind her. She saw Aaron disappearing into the gorge carved by the busy stream.
“Aaron!” she cried out, scrambling to the edge on hands and knees.
She peeked down, afraid of what she might see. But the slope on this side wasn’t as precipitous as it was on the other. Aaron had slid down to come to rest beside the stream.
“I’m not hurt!” he called back, “nothing except my pride…”
He hauled himself to his feet and then cried out as one leg gave away beneath him.
“Damnation!”
“Hold on!” Catherine yelled out over the gushing stream, “I’m coming to you!”
“Don’t! Then we will both be stuck down here!”
He began trying to get back to his feet using a slender tree as a support. He managed one step before being deposited on the leafy ground again.
“If I don’t, then you certainly will be,” she exclaimed, “and I am the cause of it.”
“Yes, you are. I would not be here if you hadn’t gone running off as you did,” he snapped in a disgruntled tone.
“Do you think I did it on a whim?” she demanded.
“I haven’t the slightest what goes through that head of yours, darling,” he drawled, “one moment you are playing croquet, the next you are running away in the dead of night.”
He settled himself upon a rock, reaching down to his left boot, wincing as he touched his ankle.
“I’ll be damned if it isn’t sprained…” he muttered.
“Why are you here if I am such a burden?” Catherine demanded hotly.
Aaron scowled, lowering his head. He almost seemed to be waging some kind of internal war. Finally, his head tipped back. The fading light of the afternoon caught his face, and something in his expression made her heart lurch.
“Because I need you,” he said flatly.
Four words. Quiet. Unvarnished. They hit her harder than a shout might ever have.
Her grip tightened on the splintered edge of the bridge. He made no attempt to climb up to her, just sat there among the wreckage, his chest rising and falling.
She’d never seen him like this. At least, not while he was sober.
“And what—what became of my letter to Isabella?” she finally stammered.
“I don’t know. I swear to you, I never touched any of your belongings.”
“It should have been in my bureau. Before I… fell asleep, there was a half-written letter.”
“Perhaps Sally cleared it away, thinking it rubbish. Or stored it somewhere else for you. On my honor, I did not remove it.”
Catherine thought of the vows they had shared as children. There had been many. And the one that Aaron had always taken most seriously was his honor. She bit her lip.
Am I wrong? Is he truly the boy I knew and considered my friend?
She came to a decision.
She could abandon him, unable to pursue her, and use the time gained to lose herself completely.
But where would she go?
I must truly be going mad!
With a frustrated sigh, she instead began to trudge her way down the slope towards him, darting from tree to tree until she reached the lower bank. Aaron looked up at her. He had a leaf caught in his hair. She laughed at his comically dishevelled appearance and reached out, gently plucking it free.
“Oh, damnation,” he said without heat, blushing.
“I’m sorry I caused you to take a tumble like this…”
“If I can get you back to Caerleon with me, it will be worth it,” he sighed.
“Do you… truly need me?”
He opened his mouth to reply, but she continued.
“I don’t think anyone has ever really needed me. Not since my parents. I was a burden to my Aunt and Uncle and...”
Aaron stood, wincing in pain, and placed a finger across her lips, silencing her gently.
“You were not a burden to your Aunt and Uncle. I saw firsthand how they treated you. They were cruel. That can never be considered your fault.”
“They always told me so,” she sniffed, holding his finger and placing a kiss upon it.
She felt bold in doing so, and it thrilled her. His finger pulled downward, and her lower lip drooped. Then he cried out as he put weight on his ankle and thumped back heavily. Catherine tried to support him but ended up falling onto his lap.
They chuckled at the blunder for a moment, and then he murmured, “My father told me the same thing. That I was useless. That I was a failure and a burden. That I was not worthy of the Dukedom. And then he exiled me.”
Catherine gasped audibly. “He… exiled you?” she said in astonishment.
Aaron nodded once, settling his arms about her, holding her close. Her face was inches from his, her arms about his neck. He gazed at her absently, as though seeing more than just her face.
“Expelled me from Caerleon with the clothes on my back and nothing else.”
“When!” she exclaimed.
He shrugged with one shoulder. “After you knew me, I suppose. Long after. I survived in spite of him.”
Catherine watched him, seeing the grief that he kept bottled up, the anger at his father’s words. She wanted to help him release it. To exorcise it somehow.
“We both hold onto far too much, I suppose,” she murmured, “from our pasts.”
“The past is dead. I would hold onto none of it,” he declared vehemently.
“It seems you have already let go of much. I must admit, it perplexed me when those memories were always so precious to me...”
She felt him stiffen against her, sensed the walls rising again, and hurried on, “But now that I know more, I see why. I… I think I understand a little.”
Slowly, he relaxed. “Isolation has been my life for so long that it has become a habit. Even with my servants.” He paused.
“It took me just today to discover that... a kind word has probably gone much further than barked orders ever have. It has made me feel foolish for not having realized it sooner. I suppose when you’re a hammer… ”
This man is not Aaron Tarnley!
The thought crystallized with sudden and startling clarity. He couldn't be the boy she’d known. The differences had been piling up; they were impossible to ignore any longer.
And yet…
She was still drawn to him. Still wanted him, whoever he was. No matter who he was, he had gone out of his way to save her. A stranger for all intents—if her suspicions were true.
Her fingers combed through his soft raven hair without conscious thought, unable to stop touching him now that he was close. He looked up at her, his expression somewhere between grumpy and exhausted. Not angry. Just... weary of the world.
“Having known servants as family,” she said softly, “I’d say kindness earns loyalty. The kind that goes beyond duty. And a willingness to go an additional mile in your service.”
Aaron nodded, thoughtfully. One hand rested on the small of Catherine’s back, and she relished the possessiveness of that touch. She settled herself deeper into his embrace.
“I shall make a note to try that,” he murmured, “and does the same work for wives?”
Catherine giggled. “It isn’t my wisdom to say. I have never had a wife.”
He laughed, and it was the same sound she remembered from childhood. Free and gay. Unburdened.
Where has all the weight come from that seems to weigh you down? Dare I ask?
“But I imagine it would. Treat me with kindness, and I will endeavour to be... indispensable to you.”
“You already are.”
Catherine blushed, gazing into Aaron’s eyes and savoring the romantic flavor of the comment. Then he gestured at the steep slope.
“Without you, I would be stuck down here, for example,” he offered matter-of-factly.
She snorted softly. Despite everything—the collapsed bridge, the ruined day, the fact that she'd run from him only minutes ago—she felt easier now than she had in weeks. Safe in his arms. As though she finally understood him.
We are both victims of cruel families. Both damaged. I learned to be submissive and meek. Aaron learned to be hard and unbending.
“I think we are examples of extremes,” he murmured, as though reading her mind. “There should be a middle-ground.”
He was looking out into the darkening trees. Catherine nestled her cheek against his shoulder. She studied the line of his jaw, the way his throat worked when he swallowed. God, but he was beautiful. Had any man ever been so handsome?
“And what would that be for you?” she asked upon realizing she had been silent for too long.
He turned his head. His nose brushed hers, lips a whisper away. Catherine’s breath hitched. One tilt of her chin and she could taste him. One shift, and—
“Kinder,” he said roughly. “No. More trusting. I know that I don’t trust. Not anyone. Not ever.” His jaw flexed. “Can’t live my whole life behind castle walls.”
“You can,” she whispered, “provided you are not alone in them.”
Something flickered in his eyes. “And you?”
“I need to build walls. Be more resilient. More... assertive.”
Aaron’s hand slid up her back, beneath the fall of her hair, fingers curling around the nape of her neck. The touch sent liquid heat down her spine, melting muscles she hadn’t realized were tight.
“Then perhaps,” his thumb traced the sensitive skin behind her ear, “we help each other.”
“Yes.” The word came out breathless.
“We should begin at once.” His voice had dropped, gone dark and velvet.
Catherine felt the change in him—the hardness beneath her, the way his fingers tightened slightly at her nape. Her own body answered with a rush of heat low in her belly.
“How?” she asked, simply.
“Be assertive.” His gaze locked with hers, pupils blown wide. “I can barely move. I’m at your mercy.” His free hand settled on her hip, thumb stroking through the fabric of her dress. “Take what you want from me.”
Her breath left her in a rush.
Her fingers threaded into his hair, tilting his face up to hers. She was perched in his lap, straddling him, positioned above him in a way that felt scandalous and thrilling. His chest rose and fell rapidly beneath her palms.
This wasn't how it was supposed to be. Women didn't take. Didn't demand. Didn't claim…
But the way he looked at her—hungry, waiting, wanting her to—
And God, she wanted to.