Chapter 5
Genevieve stared out at the cloudy sky hanging over the rolling Ochil hills surrounding Callendar Abbey.
Despite the five tall windows that lined the wall of the Abbey’s enormous library, the light didn’t quite reached some of the far corners of the room.
In the distance, she saw several riders she knew had to be her cousins.
Fanny, Imogene, Ross and Charles had agreed to accompany their younger cousins for a ride out on the moors.
Although her sister and older cousins enjoyed riding, they rarely rode with the younger children.
But when Uncle Sebastian had heard Tilly would be going, their uncle had emphatically stated she could not go unless someone much older rode with her.
Ross had volunteered without hesitation, knowing he was the only one, other than the senior Rockwoods, who could keep her cousin out of trouble. If there was anyone the younger generation of the family who could rise to the occasion of being reckless it was Tilly.
One of the riders took off at breakneck speed followed by another rider.
With a small smile, Genevieve shook her head.
Only Tilly rode like that, and either Ross or Charles followed in hot pursuit.
In all likelihood it was Ross. Once he caught up with her, Tilly would regret her impulsiveness the moment he lectured her.
Although Ross’s stern reprimands kept Tilly from doing something reckless, her cousin was never cruel with his words.
Genevieve winced. That couldn’t be said where she was concerned.
The thought made her heart tighten in her chest. Yesterday, fear had driven her to say a number of cruel things to Theo—harsh words Genevieve deeply regretted.
When Theo had said he intended to marry her, she’d been appalled, and immediately balked at the idea.
The suggestion of him having compromised her was laughable given her past. She’d lost the ability to make that claim when she was seven.
She had no intention of marrying any man, and certainly not to satisfy Theo’s honor. If she were to become his wife, he’d come to regret it. More importantly, Theo wasn’t responsible for what had happened—Genevieve was. She’d been the one to seduce him. All she’d wanted was to feel alive again.
Deep inside, Genevieve heard gleeful laughter as she tried to convince herself their lovemaking had been nothing more than a carnal need to ease her pain and grief.
Her mouth went dry, knowing she was lying to herself.
While their lovemaking had alleviated her sorrow for a short time, it had also awakened unexpected emotions inside her.
In her dreams, Theo’s kisses always thrilled her, and when he’d kissed her for the first time at the croft, she hadn’t wanted him to stop. His kiss had left her craving more, and the instant he’d tried to push her away she’d refused to let it end there.
Genevieve had been without shame yesterday. Theo’s attempts to keep himself from bedding her had been genuine, but she’d overridden his objections with her actions. The past had made the thought of a man kissing or making advances toward her repugnant—until Theo.
When he’d kissed her yesterday, she hadn’t been repulsed.
His kiss had made her ache for something she’d not understood until he’d touched her so intimately.
Desire was the only emotion she’d experienced.
There had been no pain, horror, or revulsion when Theo had touched her.
All the more astonishing was the pleasure Genevieve had experienced.
The sensations swirling through her had brought her arousal to a high pitch that had made her savor how thick and hard he was inside her.
Even more alarming was what she’d experienced the moment his body had moved against hers.
For the first time in her life, Genevieve had enjoyed a man’s touch—even ached for it.
Not once had she felt all the things she’d experienced as a child.
Not once had her mind become detached and oblivious to what was happening to her.
There had been no need, because even when the past tried to haunt her, it had faded beneath the pleasure Theo’s touch elicited inside her.
Something about his almost tender caresses had made her believe he wanted her to enjoy their lovemaking as much as he did.
With every touch, he’d ignited a blaze that had raced across her skin then sunk into her pores.
The sensation hadn’t just been unexpected, it had been exhilarating.
And dear God, the pinnacle she’d reached as her body had shuddered hard against him had left her dazed.
It had been intoxicating, but it made no sense. How could being with Theo make her feel things the past had made her believe would be degrading? Terrified by her reaction to him, she’d done the one thing she rarely did. Genevieve had run.
“Don’t tell your mother, but I have chocolate.”
The sound of Percy Rockwood’s voice made Genevieve jump as her father interrupted her thoughts. Turning away from the window she saw her adoptive father walking toward her with a conspiratorial smile on his face. Unable to refrain from smiling back, Genevieve shook her head.
“I won’t, but you know she’ll find out,” she teased with quiet amusement.
“True, and I’ll be sure to save some for her. She loves chocolate almost as much as you do.” Percy Rockwood’s mischievous expression made her laugh in spite of her gloomy mood.
As her father reached her, he pressed a kiss to her forehead.
When she’d first arrived at Green Hill House more than thirteen years ago, she’d shied away from her father’s affectionate behavior.
But over time, she’d learned to trust him and welcome his hugs of love, reassurance, and praise.
The same was true of her uncles and cousins.
Now, as Percy Rockwood wrapped his arm about her waist, she pressed her head against his solid shoulder and allowed him to guide her toward one of the chairs in front of the fireplace.
Sinking into a large, wing-back chair, she accepted a piece of the Cadbury Dairy Milk chocolate bar her father offered her. As she bit into the candy, she savored the sweet treat and stared into the fire.
“Your mother and I are worried about you,” her father said softly. Startled, she turned her head to stare at him in confused puzzlement.
“Why?”
“Because you’ve not allowed yourself to grieve for Peter.”
“That’s not true,” Genevieve said with a shake of her head. “I’ve grieved in my own way.”
“By being the rock everyone clings to when they’re feeling the pain of Peter’s loss?”
“I feel their pain, because it’s mine.”
“And yet I know you and Theo have been affected more than the rest of the family.”
“I think our grief is far less than what you and Mama must be feeling,” she whispered, trying to push an image of Theo out of her head. Pain slid across her father’s handsome, distinguished features.
“Losing Peter is still painful…but your mother and I…we found comfort when the an dara sealladh allowed me to speak with your brother.”
Percy Rockwood grew silent as he rested his head against the back of his chair and stared into the blaze crackling in the fireplace.
The fact that Peter had shown himself to her father, not long after his death, had surprised no one.
Like several other members of the Rockwood clan, her father possessed the gift of sight.
While the an dara sealladh was primarily found among the women of her adopted family, Percy Rockwood, like her cousin Jamie, was the exception, and her father’s gift was almost as strong as his sisters.
Although her parents had chosen not to tell anyone the details about her father’s vision, Percy Rockwood had reassured the family that Peter was at peace.
It was at that moment Genevieve had envied her father’s gift of the an dara sealladh, which had permitted her parents the chance to talk to Peter after his death.
Genevieve had wanted to hear and see her brother for herself.
She wanted one last day with him. She wanted to visit the cnoc beag with him and listen to his calm voice telling her everything would be all right.
But she was happy for her parents, and the small gift they’d been given.
Although they still grieved for Peter, their sorrow now seemed more bittersweet than crippling.
Out of the corner of her eye, Genevieve studied her father.
He looked as if he’d aged ten years overnight.
Percy Rockwood had always looked so young and vital, his spirits always optimistic and cheerful.
He’d always say there was a logical solution to every problem, but Peter’s death had shaken him deeply.
An image of her mother filled her head. For the first time, she realized her mother had seemed to have aged too. The instant she acknowledged the physical toll her parents had paid over the past three months, Genevieve’s heart tightened with pain and sorrow.
The grief her parents were experiencing over her brother’s death was a warning.
It made her realize how important it was to be even more cautious in her work for the Crown.
Even though Genevieve had dismissed Wills’s concern the other night, she’d been forced to admit to herself how close Scully had come to killing her.
The last thing she wanted was to be responsible for inflicting more pain on her parents.
“You rode out to the croft yesterday afternoon.”
Percy Rockwood’s quiet words were an observation, not a question. Caught off guard, Genevieve’s body grew taut with trepidation. Dear God, had Theo gone to her father even though he’d said he wouldn’t. No, her father would have said something the minute he entered the library.
Had his gift of sight told him of her need to escape, or had he been shown something more troubling? Even without the an dara sealladh, her father’s intuitive nature was powerful. He always seemed to know when his wife or children were troubled or unhappy.