Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
The walk back to the castle started out much like the trip there, with Charles desperately trying to ingratiate himself with Kitty, and James, following close behind, a darkly sardonic presence she couldn’t seem to ignore.
Kitty busied herself with looking for the golden, star-shaped flowers of the herb Saint John's Wort. Tradition had it that gathering the herb on the night before the summer solstice would imbue it with extra healing powers.
She sighed. James needed healing. His body might have regained its strength, but his soul was still in shreds. The shadows that crossed his face every now and then made her heart ache. She wanted to make him smile, to make him laugh again. Even if only as his friend.
A sudden thought struck her. Was one of the reasons he didn’t want to marry because he thought a woman would be disgusted by his injuries? He’d seemed horrified that she might have seen his scars, back in the clearing.
She bit her lip and glanced back at him. Was that why he hadn’t wanted her to visit him in London, while he was recuperating? He was a proud man. Had he been embarrassed?
Surely, he knew that his scars didn’t bother her. On the contrary; their presence only deepened the respect and admiration she had for him. He might not be the perfect physical specimen he’d once been, but he was still beautiful. Inside and out.
Kitty slowed her steps, falling back toward James.
There was now some distance between them and the rest of the group.
Lady Snaresbrook, despite her age, had set a punishing pace and forged ahead on the narrow path that led uphill through the woods behind the village.
Charles, mercifully, had pulled ahead of her, and had been drawn into conversation with Ariadne.
James’s thoughts were dark as he stomped along the winding forest path behind Kitty.
What was he going to do? If he revealed he’d been the one to kiss her in the tower last night, she’d accuse him of teasing her, of playing games.
She’d never believe he’d kissed her in earnest. Or that his intentions were honorable.
She’d heard him disparage the married state so often, she’d never believe he’d changed his mind.
How could he convince her that his perspective was different now?
That he was ready to settle down. With her. Only with her.
“Love her, James.”
Andrew’s last words came to him unbidden, tugging him back to Spain, to Badajoz.
An explosion knocked him off his feet, the shockwave reverberating through his chest. Fragments of masonry rained down, and puffs of dirt leapt up where French musket balls peppered the earth around him. He rolled to his side as shouts and explosions, screams and musket fire, echoed in his ears.
When he reopened his eyes, he was met with a vision of hell; smoke and flames, flashes of red and white.
British uniforms swarming the battlements like ants.
The acrid scent of gunpowder stung his nose, and the peppery taste of it lingered on his tongue from where he’d ripped open a paper twist of powder with his teeth and poured it down the barrel of his Baker rifle.
Ears ringing, head pounding, he rose to his elbows to look for his men.
Andrew lay a few feet away, motionless on his stomach. With a moan, James crawled over to him, caught his body in his arms, and turned him over. There was blood on his chest, a dark stain spreading on his uniform.
“Hit,” Andrew wheezed. He could barely talk; he made a dreadful gasping rattle as he tried to suck in a breath.
“It’s all right. Hold on, I’ll get you back to the surgeon.”
Andre’s face was pale beneath the dirt. He shook his head and his eyes held the heartbreaking certainty that his wound was mortal.
“No time.” His fingers fisted James’s jacket. His gaze, burningly intent, held James’s own. “Kitty,” he gasped. “Love her.”
James nodded, desperately pressing his hand to Andrew’s chest in a vain attempt to stem the bleeding. “Yes, I’ll tell her you love her. I swear.”
“Love her, James,” Andrew repeated, stressing the first word.
James could barely speak past the awful constriction in his throat. “Of course. You have my word.”
“James?” Kitty’s voice, soft with concern, pulled him back from the nightmare. “Are you all right?”
Soothing green forest replaced dry, dusty battlefield in his mind. The dear face of his best friend was replaced by another face, equally dear.
James blinked. Now, as he looked at Kitty, Andrew’s last words seemed to take on an entirely different meaning.
He’d always thought he’d been meant to tell Kitty that Andrew loved her. The two siblings had always been close. With only a year between their births, they’d been more like twins than anything else. Constant companions and playmates.
But perhaps that hadn’t been what Andrew had been trying to say. What if he’d been trying to imply, to order, that James himself should love her?
Or had he meant that James already loved her?
James blinked again, stunned by this new revelation. Had Andrew suspected what he’d tried so hard to hide?
The inescapable truth poured over him in a rush. Andrew hadn’t been asking James to love his sister. He’d been giving them his blessing. He’d been urging James to admit what had, apparently, been blindingly obvious to Andrew the entire time: James loved Kitty.
The utter rightness of it settled about him like a warm cloak on a winter’s day. As if the world, so long off kilter, had suddenly clicked back into its correct place.
Kitty was still staring at him, her eyes wide with concern. James shook his head to dispel the last remnants of his memory and sent her a reassuring smile.
“Yes, I’m fine. Really.”
“Is it your wound?” she asked softly. Her gaze flicked to his side.
“No. It’s not that.”
His voice came out gruffer than he intended, reflecting his frustration at himself. He needed to tell her about the tower, but he couldn’t find the words to begin.
Kitty, unfortunately, took his brusque tone as a dismissal. Her expression fell, and she turned back along the path.
James could have kicked himself.
“Still watching the mortals?” Oberon chuckled.
“I told you they’d make a mess of it.” Titania glared down the path, to where the would-be lovers straggled. “Even with my help, they’re still at odds.”
Oberon sent her an amused glance. “I thought you weren’t going to meddle. What have you been doing?”
Titania gave a sniff. “Oh, hardly anything. I made her sneeze, to make them meet. And I asked the bees not to interrupt them. But that’s all, I promise.”
“Leave them alone. They don’t need your dubious help.”
“But it’s so frustrating!” She gave a disgusted shake of her head. “Did you see that yellow-haired boy? She kissed him this morning, in the maze! One of my handmaidens saw them.” She pointed at Kitty. “She thinks this dark one doesn’t want her, and the fair one does, but she’s only half right!”
Fiery tresses bounced around her face in indignation. “That blond popinjay only sees the surface; her beauty, not her strength. His words are as empty as his head.”
Oberon laughed at her righteous ire. “What was it the human playwright said? “ . . . and yet, to say the truth, reason and love keep little company together now-a-days.”
Titania glared at him. “Between the two of them, there’s no contest. It’s like a drop of attraction compared to an ocean of love.”
Oberon frowned down at James. “So why doesn’t this one just declare himself?”
“He hasn’t had the chance. The brainless one hasn’t left her alone.” Titania’s wide mouth curled as inspiration struck. “What they really need is a little time alone . . .”
“Titania—” Oberon warned.
Titania placed her fingers over his lips with a giggle. “Just the tiniest nudge in the right direction—” She wiggled the fingers of her left hand. “Oops! Look at that!”
Below them, just ahead of the two oblivious humans, the path through the woods shifted.
In the blink of an eye, moss and ferns swept over the existing well-trodden trail, erasing any evidence of the prior group’s passage.
Tree roots receded to reveal an entirely new footpath, edged with wildflowers.
Branches curved overhead until they almost touched, creating a welcoming tunnel of green that appeared to have been there for centuries.
“There! Perfect.” Titania sent her husband a mischievous smile. “Is it my fault if these foolish mortals just happen to get lost in the woods?”
Oberon narrowed his eyes. “Where does that path lead?”
“To my grotto. I think it’s time I let these humans rediscover it. It’s been years since I allowed anyone to go there. It’s beautiful; very conducive to romance.” Her eyes twinkled. “If only we could give them the tiniest sip of love potion—”
“No. You promised.”
Titania tossed her head with a decided flounce. “Fine. No love potions. And this is the last bit of meddling I’ll do. From now on they’re on their own.”