Chapter 13
Thirteen
Slowly, the memories started to return.
As with the cigar smoke, they came in fragments that Cassian could hardly make sense of. Were they pieces of his dreams—not real—not worth thinking about? Or were they real and as frightening as they were confronting?
He woke up covered in his own sweat. His head throbbed. His body shook. He shut his eyes as he tried to remember the cause. And when he did, it turned his flushed body ice cold so that he wished that he would forget.
It was only a dream… it wasn’t real.
The dream took place in his office. He was seated behind his desk, a glass of brandy in his hand, a cigar balanced between his lips. Before him stood a footman, head bowed, body shaking. And Cassian, for reasons he could not fathom, was berating the man as if he meant to shame him to death.
He recognized that footman as the same who had attended him at supper the previous night.
Sitting in bed, still coated in sweat, Cassian tried to convince himself that it was just a dream, that he could not possibly speak to someone that way.
But then he remembered how the staff behaved around him.
How they always appeared on edge, so very careful not to say the wrong thing.
Were they just being attentive? Or were they fearful that Cassian might snap…
He sat alone in bed for a long time.
As he did, he thought about Mr. Pemberton and what they had discussed last night, just as he thought about those things that Mr. Pemberton would not say. He never said the words directly; he would not dare to admit as such, but Cassian could not deny the truth as he now knew it.
I am not the man I pretend to be…
This made him think about Isolde. She was nothing but pure and sweet and innocent. She was also kind, loving, and gentle. How could she love him if he was such a monster? It wasn’t possible.
Cassian had to know for sure. For days, he had been happy to act as if all was normal and there was nothing beneath the surface of who he was.
He was certain that if he did not face the truth, then he might never have to.
What was more, he was so darn certain of Isolde’s love for him that he just assumed it.
Has she even told me that she loves me? Or have I just told myself that she does?
It was a frightening prospect, but Cassian had to know the truth. And not just about himself, but about Isolde and her feelings.
With that in mind, he took his time getting ready, long enough that he was sure Isolde would finish breakfast without him. Then, he kept an eye on her, waiting until the right moment. He found it soon after she finished eating, as she left the manor to visit the stables. Alone.
His legs shook as he followed her. And his chest tightened as he walked into the stables and found her tending to one of the horses.
She was just so beautiful. With her chestnut hair. With her petite frame. With eyes that were intelligent, thoughtful, and innocent. She smiled as she stroked the horse’s mane, and her laughter wrapped Cassian like a cloak in winter, doing much to batter away the fear he felt.
She does love me. I know that she does…
“I hope I’m not disturbing you,” he said as he approached her.
She started at the sight of him, but when she turned and saw him walking toward her, she smiled, and that was enough to convince Cassian that he was doing the right thing.
“Startling me, perhaps,” she said. “But certainly not disturbing.”
“I was wondering what your plans are today?” He came in behind her, but not too close.
She rolled her eyes. “I feel as if you are about to tell me.”
“Am I so predictable?”
“You are not exactly subtle. Make of that what you will.”
Their banter was effortless. She did not shy away from him. She did not quiver or act nervously. She knew him for who he was, and he was someone she liked. Surely, such a man could not be the same as the one in his dream?
“Mr. Pemberton told me of a beach that is not such a far ride from here,” he said to her.
“Apparently, I used to visit it often. And seeing as I am strictly ordered by my doctor to revisit old steps in the vain hope that it might rattle something in my head free, I thought it might be nice to go for a ride and see this beach for myself.”
“A ride…” She hesitated. “Are you sure that is such a good idea?”
“I promise to be careful.”
“As I am sure you were the last time you sat on a horse.”
“Which is why you will be joining me,” he said. “To keep an eye on me and make sure that I do not do anything foolish. Like falling off and breaking my head open.”
She laughed and shook her head. “I think you put too much faith in me. Stopping you from acting a fool…” She raised an eyebrow at him. “I do not think anyone is capable of that feat.”
As they spoke, Cassian felt his confidence rise.
He knew what he had to do today, the only thing that he could do. What was more, once it was done, he was certain that he would be able to put behind him the dreadful sense of impending doom that sat on his shoulders everywhere that he went.
I am a good man, and this will prove it so.
They spent the next few minutes saddling the horses. When they were ready, Cassian insisted on lifting Isolde into her saddle. He did so with his hands around her waist, and she did not shrink back or go rigid at his touch.
In fact, as he lifted her, it was as if she gave herself to him fully. There was trust there, and for a few glorious seconds, Cassian was able to forget his woes, able to simply appreciate that he had this woman in his life… that he was this lucky.
They rode from the estate together.
As with most things, riding came easily to Cassian, and as soon as he pushed the horse across the sweeping meadows of the estate, he felt an intrinsic sense of comfort, as if he had done this hundreds of times before.
It was so strange how that worked; he could not remember his own father but felt as if he could ride this horse as he had been doing his entire life.
They spoke little on the trip, which was on purpose. Cassian had so much to say and did not want to say it until they were alone, walking, somewhere that he could look into Isolde’s eyes and see the truth of whatever answer she gave him.
But she laughed as she rode. She smiled. The sun shone across her shoulders, and never had anything looked so beautiful and perfect.
Maybe I am still dreaming? If so, I hope I never wake up.
They reached the shores of the beach after an hour of riding. As expected, Cassian remembered nothing of what he saw. Gray sand. Murky water. The smell of salt in the air that wasn’t at all familiar.
“Anything at all?” Isolde asked as they climbed from their horses and started toward the sandy shore.
“Not a thing,” he said with a furrowed brow as he looked up and down the shoreline. “Not even a little…”
“It will come back.” She reached down and took his hand. “Do not let it get you down.”
He looked at her hand, wrapped around his own, and he felt her touch spread up his arm and pierce his heart. Again, such a small gesture, but it meant more than words could say.
“Isolde, there is something I have been meaning to talk to you about.” He looked ahead as they reached the sand, and he continued to do so as they started along the length of the beach.
“Oh?”
They stayed away from the water, not wanting to get wet. But the spray from the ocean was felt on Cassian’s face, and the cool breeze whipped Isolde’s hair behind her.
“My memories are starting to return,” he said.
She hesitated. “That’s… that is wonderful.” Her voice cracked as if she did not believe it.
“Not in any way that is significant,” he said to her as they walked. “They are barely even fragments. They are more like feelings… like when you wake from a dream that you cannot remember, even if you somehow know what it is about. Does that make sense?”
“I think so.”
“The thing is…” He grimaced, still unable to look at her.
“The more that I remember, the more that I come to realize something about myself.” A quick glance, and he saw her furrowed brow as she watched him.
“I suspected it when I first arrived back at the estate. The way the staff behaves around me. Even Mr. Pemberton, while he is an honest man who I know cares for me, there are signs in what he says that suggest…” His throat grew tight.
“Suggest what?”
“Jokes I make. Even when I smile…” He winced. “He looks at me as if in surprise. As if he cannot imagine me saying the things I do or acting the way that I act.”
She said nothing, but he sensed her worry, as if she knew where this was going, just as she was unable to steer him from the path. His palm started to sweat in her hand.
“I fear that the man I am right now… that he is not…” He cleared his throat. “That he is a lie. In fact, I am all but certain that if I were to remember everything, especially who I am, that I might not recognize that man. That I might, in fact, loathe who he is.”
“Cassian…” Her voice broke again.
“Tell me the truth.” He stopped and turned to face her. “Are you with me because you want to be, or because you are scared of what might happen if you try to leave?”
Her eyes widened, and her face paled. Cassian saw the truth in her eyes. It is just as I feared…
“You do not have to fear me, Isolde,” he said softly, looking away because he could not bear to see the fear in her eyes. “Just as you do not have to lie to me. When we met, did I force you to be with me?”
“What? No! Never.”
“Then how can you want to be with me?” he said, his voice soft but pleading. “In time, my memories will return, and when they do, I have no doubt that I will turn back to…” He winced. “Whatever I was. And that man, I cannot fathom how someone like you would ever want to be with him.”
“Cassian…” she said again, her voice a whisper.