He debated how honest to be with her, then shrugged. No point in not telling her-she’d be gone tomorrow. Yes-taking another slice of your soul with her, his inner voice sneered.
“I thought of you. Of all the times you’d convinced me I could do things I was sure I couldn’t. Like when you taught me sums. And how to waltz. And sew a button on my coat. And learn all the flowers in the garden.”
He paused to pick up a small rock, toss it into the waves, then continued, “I remembered what you said, what you did, when my father died. How you held my hand and told me, ‘You’re not alone, Ethan. Your father will always live in your heart. And I will always be your friend. And both he and I know that you are the very best of men.’” He looked at her. Saw her staring at him through huge eyes. “Those words helped me through some very difficult times over the years.”
“I…I’m glad. And surprised. And touched that you remembered.”
“I remember everything, Cassie.” Every touch. Every smile. Every tear. Every heartbreak.
Her gaze didn’t waver. “As do I.”
He forced himself to look away, to concentrate on the sand in front of them, and they walked in silence for several minutes, not pausing until she found a shell she liked. After brushing the sand off the pale pink treasure, she asked, “How did you come to own the Blue Seas Inn?”
“When I was in the army, I helped out a friend, another solider. He left me some money, and I used it to buy the inn. The building needed some renovations, and when they were done, I opened for business. Things have gone well, so I added the livery two years ago.”
“How did you help your friend?”
Another image, of an earlier battle, flashed through his mind. “Billy, Billy Styles was his name. He was trapped beneath his fallen horse. I dragged him free.” And then had used his last lead ball to put down the suffering animal. And hadn’t even realized tears streamed down his face until Billy had told him they were there.
“You saved his life.”
“He was a good man. His leg was broken bad enough that he was finished with the army. Went home to London, but he died two years later from a fever-right around the time I was injured. A solicitor located me and told me about the money. After I healed, I started looking for a place I could call home.”
“And found the Blue Seas Inn.”
“Yes. And now it’s your turn.” Doing his damnedest to keep all traces of bitterness from his voice he said, “Tell me all about your wonderful life as Countess Westmore.”
Several long seconds passed. Then she said quietly, “If it’s something wonderful you wish to hear, then I’m afraid I have nothing to say.”
Chapter Five
Cassandra glanced toward Ethan and saw the bewilderment clouding his dark eyes, the frown bunching his brows.
“Are you telling me you haven’t been happy?” he asked slowly, his voice laced with both confusion and disbelief.
She jerked her gaze from him to stare straight ahead. “Yes, Ethan. I haven’t been happy.”
She felt his gaze boring into her, but didn’t turn to look at him. “Because your husband died?”
Until this moment she hadn’t quite known how much she would tell him. But his question seemed to burst a dam inside her, releasing a flood of suppressed anger and bitterness. “No. Because my husband lived. And for ten years made my life a living hell. Those feelings you described, about wanting to go to sleep and never wake up? I know those feelings. All too well.” The words were tight. Clipped. And somehow cathartic to say out loud.
“My marriage was a disaster. A nightmare that thankfully ended when Westmore died.” A shudder ran through her. She turned toward him, knowing he’d see the hatred, the anger in her eyes, and not caring. “I do not mourn him.”
He halted and stepped around to face her, his gaze searching hers, looking for answers. “A nightmare in what way?”
Unable to remain still or look him in the eye, she shook her head and resumed walking with quick, agitated steps, her gaze steadfastly fixed on a tall outcropping of rocks ahead. He fell into step beside her, silent, waiting.
“As you know, I had high hopes for my marriage…” Of course he knew-she’d shared all her hopes and dreams with him. He’d patiently listened to her expound on her desire for a caring husband and lots of children with whom she’d share the sort of warm, loving relationship she’d always craved. The sort denied her by her parents, who’d been bitterly disappointed their only child was a girl-a fact they never tired of pointing out to her. Indeed, she’d known from childhood that the only thing she could possibly do to please them was marry well. When her father had announced that the handsome, charming, and much-sought-after Earl of Westmore had offered for her after her first Season, she’d believed herself most fortunate.
“My duty was to marry well and in accordance with Father’s wishes. Westmore’s duty, of course, was to produce an heir. Our relationship began to deteriorate after I failed to conceive during the first six months of our marriage. Things grew progressively worse as time wore on.”
The words began to rush from her now, as if she’d lanced a festering wound and allowed the poison to run free. “After three years of me failing to conceive, Westmore announced he was finished-that he couldn’t stand to touch me again. From then on, our relationship consisted of little more than icy silence. When he did bother to speak to me, it was merely to remind me of how useless I was. How disappointing and stupid. And of how much he loathed the very sight of me.”
She paused, needing to shove back the painful memories that rose up to thicken her throat.
“Bloody bastard,” Ethan muttered. “Did it not occur to Westmore that the fault might be his?”
“It wasn’t,” she said, her tone utterly flat.
“How do you know?”
“Because over the next seven years Westmore impregnated a half dozen of his paramours. Perhaps more. I stopped counting.”
For several seconds silence swelled between them. Then he said in a tight voice, “He was unfaithful to you?”
She couldn’t suppress the humorless sound that escaped her. “Almost from the beginning. At first he was at least discreet, and I had no idea. But after it became apparent that I wasn’t able to provide him with his heir, he made no effort to conceal his indiscretions. By then all my hopes and illusions for my marriage were shattered, yet part of me still clung to the wish that our relationship wouldn’t deteriorate into hatred. So I foolishly made an attempt to reason with him. Reiterated how grievously sorry and disappointed I was that I couldn’t have children. Asked if we couldn’t at least be civil with each other.”
“What did he say?”
“He made it abundantly clear he wasn’t interested.”
“Abundantly clear how?”
A chill shivered through her and she wrapped her arms around herself. “He…hurt me.”
Ethan halted and grasped her arm, swinging her around to face him. A storm brewed in his eyes and a muscle ticked in his jaw. “Hurt you?” he repeated in a low, awful voice. “He…forced himself on you?”
She shook her head. “No. He’d left no doubt he didn’t want me…in that way…ever again.”
Relief flickered in his eyes, then he frowned. “Then what…?” His expression turned thunderous. “He hit you?”
There was no mistaking his shock. And outrage. Both of which were balms for her soul and tightened her throat. It had been so long since anyone had shown the least concern for her. Hot moisture pushed at the backs of her eyes and she fiercely blinked it away.
“He hit me,” she confirmed in a deadly calm voice that seemed to come from far away, and his gaze raked over her as if to check for bruises. “Beat me, actually. It took me weeks to recover.”