Chapter 22
It had taken Eva two minutes to reach her bedroom. In that time, she had tripped four times, broken a vase by stumbling into a table in the corridor, and worst of all, sobered up. She was crumpled against the furthest corner of her room, sobbing. She struggled to normalize her breathing. It sawed in and out, the telltale signs of a panic attack.
Henry was here.
Elias had written to him about their whereabouts.
She had been betrayed again.
An animalistic shout erupted from her lips. Flames of anger shot through her, locking her body in a rigidness that hurt every muscle. She drove a fist to the wall. She hit the wall again. And again. And again. But it was not enough to quash the heat, so she stood screaming and pummelling the wall.
When she closed her eyes, Henry was there.
When she stopped, his voice rang in her ears.
The blade of betrayal continued to slice through her ribs, plunging repeatedly into her heart. The sight of Henry had seared itself into her mind. All she could think of was him, and it made her skin hot with rage. He had grown a dark beard, his hair was a wild mane of dark curls, and his eyes were two sea-blue jewels in his pallid face. They had stolen her breath.
“Damn you,” she shouted, punching the wall again. “Damn you to hell!”
With a sob, she placed her forehead against the wall.
Despite the magnificent power his eyes had over her, she had noticed a stark difference. His cheekbones were sharper and hollower, his complexion had a grey tint, it looked like he had lost weight, and there was a frantic energy about him. New York had not treated him well.
Good.
“Eva,” Elias’s voice called softly from behind her bedroom door. “Please, allow me to explain.”
She gritted her teeth.
“Eva?”
“I’d rather you not,” she yelled.
“Will ye open the door so we can speak?”
“Is Henry there?”
There was a pause. “He’s at the foot of the staircase.”
A flare of rage exploded within her. He invited Henry inside? “You can both screw off. I’m not speaking to either of you.”
“Ye can speak with me only.”
“No.”
“Eva, please.”
Her blood boiled. She rushed to the door and slammed a hand against the thick wood. “I trusted you, and you betrayed me, Elias McKenzie. I’m done with it. I refuse to be lied to ever again.”
“I did not betray ye,” he said quietly.
“You did.”
“Henry was deserving to know ye were found.”
“That wasn’t your right! You of all people knew I wanted to stay hidden.”
A tense quietness followed.
There was a shuffle of feet. “Look, Eva, I urge ye to find the strength to hear his story. He told me everything, and I believe him—”
“Because you’re an idiot.”
“Perhaps I am.”
“Leave me be.”
“Do ye not owe it to yerself to know the truth?”
A heavy feeling pulled her to the floor. All this talk about truth grated down the defensive barriers she had spent weeks trying to build. If she would give in, she would become vulnerable, and she’d be damned if she ever found herself in that position again. Not to mention the reopening of old wounds to the man who had inflicted them; a task she was certainly not prepared for.
She whimpered.
There was no way she could subject herself to that. None of this was fair. How dare they force her to make this decision?
“All right, lass,” Elias sighed. “Come out when yer ready. I’ve placed a supper tray by yer door. We shall be in the parlour by the fire.”
We.
Just like that, Elias and Henry were best friends again. She plopped her forehead against the hardness of the door. God, did that ever feel like another betrayal.
Elias’s footsteps echoed away.
With a sniff, she wiped the tears from her face. Even if she gave Henry the chance to explain, how would that change anything? All he would do was tell her more lies, like fictional Henry had. What would change? Nothing. He had still betrayed her. In fact, he had done a hell of a lot more than that. He may have played a role in her kidnapping.
Decisions swirled in her head, forcing her pulse to spike at an all-time high. Although knowing the truth may bring closure, deep down, she was more afraid to face it. And not just his truth, but hers too.
She picked herself off the floor and inched toward her closet. While stuffing her suitcase, memories of the Randall family flashed in her mind: Ceci’s tiny fingers making floral crowns, Lewis reading a passage from a child’s book without a stutter, Phoebe singing as she swept the back porch, Abe playing his father’s harmonica, and Rich smiling at his family like he was the luckiest man in the world.
Family.
She wanted to be safe and happy, surrounded by family.
Her hands worked quickly to strip free of her tartan shawl. Faster and faster, she undressed until she stood stark naked in the fading light of the autumn evening. She would dress as a boy and prepare for the cold because, tonight, she would leave Scotland in the dead of night.
***
Sometime during the early hours, Eva took her chance to escape. Suitcase in hand, wearing a jacket and her warmest pair of men’s pants, and her hair tucked beneath a flat cap, she was ready to run back to the Randall farm.
She pressed her ear against the bedroom door.
The house was quiet.
To reach the front door, she had to follow the corridor, make a left down the staircase and cross the entrance hall. Since Elias’s home was a large old manor, the floorboards creaked and the hall echoed at the drop of a pin. No matter if she made a mad dash or tiptoed, she’d make noise, but she was determined to get outside, even if that meant fighting someone off.
She eased open the door. A pitch-black corridor greeted her.
Now or never.
She hurried forward. Her right foot caught on something hard. With a choking gasp, she stumbled and fell onto her suitcase. Winded, she cursed her clumsiness.
Beneath her legs, something moved.
She froze. Had she imagined that?
The thing moved again. It was a pair of legs, dislodging themselves from beneath her. The intoxicating scent of lemons and cedar tinged with cigarettes entered her nostrils.
“Have I hurt you?” Henry said, his voice as loud as the shot of a gun.
Quick as a whip, she gathered herself off the floor.
From the shadows, his face came near. A faint sliver of moon from her bedroom window lit his face. His stark blue eyes were illuminated, like two ghostly orbs from the devil of that nightmare.
“Are you hurt?” he said.
A surprised whimper came from her lips.
“Eva?”
“Why are you in the corridor?” she said.
That elicited a small frown. “I assumed you would try to run,” he said softly. “I did not want you to leave without having heard my truth.”
Truth.
There was that stupid word again.
“Will you not hear me out?” he said.
“No.”
His eyes watched her carefully. The glint in them drew her in. “Please, Eva.”
Agitated by her name on his lips, her hands clenched by her sides. How dare he say it in such a loving tone. His presence disoriented her, and she swayed. It was too much. Her chest felt like it would burst. The scar across her palm flared from the fall, a cruel reminder of the trauma he had put her through.
“Elias and Lottie told me you had returned to your world. If I had known you were still here, I would have never left England.” His voice cracked. “Those horrific words said that night in London, the way I pushed you away; I had no choice—”
She slapped him.
But it was not enough. It would never be enough for what he had put her through.
She pushed him to the wall by his shoulders. Her fingers curled around the soft material of his shirt. It was all too much. She wanted to hurt him. She wanted to forgive him. With a whimper, she buried her head against his chest.
How badly she wanted him to suffer.
How desperately she wanted him to feel the heartache he had forced upon her.
How pathetic it was that she couldn’t go through any of it because her heart ached for the man she held against the wall. It ached so violently, she was an inch away from giving in to him.
She broke away.
They observed one another, silenced by mixed emotions.
“I trusted you,” she finally said.
She snatched up her suitcase, hurried back into her bedroom and locked the door.
“I should have been forthright from the beginning. I was a coward, and I will apologize for as long as I live,” his muffled voice came from the other side of the door.
Cowardice. Wasn’t that always his excuse?
“Hear me out. Please, I beg you,” he said.
She held still. The tears wouldn’t stop coming. Confusion rippled through her. Why was he pretending not to know about her near-death experience? Was there a possibility he never knew about her kidnapping? Had his wife organized it on her own? That was impossible. He must have known. It was lies upon lies upon lies. Where was the truth? Would she ever find it?
“Why?” she choked on painful sobs. “Why did you come back?”
“I came to make things right.”
“It’s too late.”
“No.” His voice shook, thick with emotion. “It is never too late to detangle the past.”
She splayed her hand across the surface of the door. Here he was, a few inches away, behind a thick piece of wood. Her saviour. Her lover. Her tormentor. She had spent weeks hating him with a complex passion, but now, those feelings had started to unravel into something she no longer understood.
“You fear me,” he said.
Her lower lip trembled. “I am terrified of you.”
He exhaled. “I want to understand why. Please, help me understand why.”
She opened her mouth, but the words got trapped. Because you lied. Because you discarded me and never said goodbye. Because you married another woman. Because you tried to have me killed. The answers circled in her head. Round and round they went, prodding at her lack of courage to say them. All she could do was give in to the torrential pain that rushed through her body.
She turned from the door and collapsed onto the bed.
A shattering cry left her lips. Her chest, rattling with sobs, ached unlike anything she had ever experienced. It was as if all the accumulated trauma from the last couple of months had swept up into one gigantic tidal wave, and she was the tiny figure on the beach it crashed on.
“I know that pain well,” he said. “I know how it feels to drown in a paralyzing ache. It is an anguish so strong, you can hardly breathe or even hold onto the strands of reality, and at times, it is difficult to function like a normal human. In this darkness, not even words can reach you.”
“Stop—”
“Is that your wish? That I stop speaking?”
“Please.”
“Very well,” he said softly. “I will leave you be with this parting sentiment. Do not fall prey to the darkness. By God, do not let it consume you as I did.”
And with that, he walked away.
His parting words rang like static in her ears.