Chapter Five
Phillip spent the night in torment. He retreated to the hunting estate, indulged in a cold bath, and lay awake until dawn broke upon the horizon.
There was nothing for it. His mind demanded satisfaction, his body craved release, and his heart pleaded for acknowledgment. This headstrong widow had twisted him into knots.
He rose, dressed, and saddled his horse, intent on finding a solution to this driving madness.
Time spent in London, Paris, Madrid, and even Venice had done nothing to chase her from his mind.
She occupied his thoughts. Although he knew so little about her, he had seen enough of her character in vignettes captured upon every visit to this small village.
The incremental build of curiosity pushed him into the catalyst. He could no longer deny his feelings for her.
He needed to tell her the truth. Who he was. His desire to know more of her. His driving need to possess not only her body, but her heart.
She had made her position quite clear during their conversation the prior evening. But Phillip had to try one last time.
As he rode into the village, the morning light broke through the jagged peaks of the mountains in the distance, casting the idyllic scene before him in shades of warm gold.
Families scurried along, intent on their destinations, while merchants sold their wares from open doorways and stalls lining the busy street.
The villagers glanced at him as he passed, their kind eyes knowing and soft smiles dimmed.
For too long, he’d kept his anonymity, determined to hide the aristocrat.
Truth be told, he enjoyed it. The simplicity of life without the duty and expectations heaped upon his head.
But it could not last. Nothing ever did.
As he wandered through the streets, Phillip searched the faces of those he passed. She had to be here—somewhere. But the longer he rode, the more frustrated he became when he did not see her. Surely, someone knew where he could find her.
Instead of asking someone as he passed by, he chose to venture to the tavern. Perhaps he would find her there.
But when he ventured inside the familiar setting, he found only the owner, a barmaid, and a few patrons enjoying a hearty breakfast. He leaned against the counter and waved to the burly man who owned the establishment.
“I—I am looking for Cora. Is she here?” Phillip asked.
The man’s brow furrowed as he assessed him. “Ye’ve been skulkin’ ’round here for months now, lad, moonin’ over the widow.” He chuckled. “Did ye ever think she might not be interested in a young London dandy?”
Phillip gritted his teeth and took a deep breath.
It seemed everyone knew of his interest in the healer widow, and yet none seemed too concerned about his interest to come to her defense.
Had that been out of their own self-preservation, since he knew Cora well enough to know she handled her own quarrels without issue? He met the man’s narrow gaze.
“I wish to speak with her on a matter of some importance.” He held up a hand. “I vow on my honor, if she does not wish to hear my plea, then I will leave and never return.”
The man searched him intently for what felt like hours. Finally, he nodded. “She’s not here.”
“When will she return?” Phillip asked, excitement rising in his chest.
“Tomorrow evening.” He gestured toward the ceiling. “Full moon rises this night.”
Phillip frowned. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Och, lad.” The man shook his head. “Certain herbs can only be gathered during a full moon. Or so she tells me.” He scoffed. “Personally, I think it’s rubbish.”
Phillip hung his head and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He took a breath and met the man’s gaze once more. “She said she lived near the loch. Where?”
“I—I cannot betray her trust in such a manner.” He shook his head vehemently.
“Then do not betray her at all. Just point in a direction, and I will search myself until I find her.” Phillip ceased breathing as he waited for a response.
Finally, the man sighed and pointed north.
“Thank you,” Phillip said, placing a coin on the table.
He rushed out into the late morning, noting the sun had disappeared behind some ominous clouds. The shadow cast a gray pallor over those he passed as he rode out of the village, taking the road north into a small valley between two hills nestled at the base of the mountains.
As he rode, his mind burned with questions. What if she would not listen? Would she hate him for keeping the truth from her? Was this the end of a beautiful dream?
The deeper he traveled into the hills, the darker the skies became.
He pushed his horse faster, hoping to find her before the storm erupted overhead.
It had rained the night before; he’d listened to the storm through his windows as the rain had pounded against the window pane, but it had ended long before morning.
This storm—he realized—was far more dangerous.
He reached the edge of the loch just as the rain had begun. But as he navigated the edge of the loch, searching for any sign of her or her cottage, the drops turned into a torrential downpour. He could not see more than a few feet in front of him.
Overhead, a bolt of lightning lit the sky, followed by a crack of thunder that pierced his soul.
Startled, the horse reared, tossing him from its back. Phillip collided with the stone-littered dirt, pain radiating through his arm and down into his hip. He cradled his arm to his chest and blinked against the rain.
In a panic, the beast had charged back the way it had come, desperate to be away from the storm.
Phillp sat in the growing mud, his ego and body aching. As he attempted to stand, his leg gave out beneath him and he collapsed into a heap on the ground. He closed his eyes, allowing the rain to wash over him in rivulets.
A fitting end, he noted as a strange peace came over him. Just a man chasing a dream, a love he did not deserve, caught in the mercy of a storm that overwhelmed him.
His mother would be quite upset. And he was perplexed as to why he was not.
Then it came to him. Cora was the one thing he could not control. The only thing that had eluded him over the course of his entitled life.
If she did not choose him, then he would rather die alone, unknown, near a loch in the Highlands than return to London society and pretend to be happy for another moment.
It seemed Fate had chosen for him.