Authors: Dream Castle
Kassie folded her arms across her chest, her smile impish. “What you
want
is to speak with Dr. Howell alone.” A tiny spark of the old Kassie danced in her blue-green eyes. “Someday, Braden, I shall actually succeed in teaching you to say what you mean. I may have to undo one-and-thirty years of contradictory training, but someday I shall succeed.” She turned to Dr. Howell, who was attempting to stifle a grin. “Thank you, doctor. I shall precede you into the dining room so that you and my transparent husband can discuss my progress in private.”
Alfred laughed aloud.
Braden did not. Instead he silently gazed at Kassie’s teasing smile, seized by an explosion of feeling so profound that it could no longer be diminished nor denied. It was a truth that his heart had always known but his mind had refuted, unable to give voice to the words. The words came to him now, despite a lifetime of caution and cynicism.
I love her,
he thought wonderingly, watching her small form disappear into the dining room.
I love her.
The realization, like all his experiences with Kassie, came not in romantic settings designed for just such revelations, but in a moment as unique as Kassie herself; in a moment when Kassie was Kassie.
Alfred did not miss the emotion on Braden’s face, the completely besotted look. Wisely he refrained from commenting upon it. Rather, he said, “Kassandra and I are getting to know each other, Braden. Our initial talk went quite well.”
Braden’s head snapped around, and his concern returned. “What did you learn?” he demanded.
Alfred sighed, accustomed after so many years to Braden’s impatience. “Just the details of her dream. Nothing more than you already know,” he replied. “But Braden,” he added hastily, seeing Braden’s frustration in the clenching of his jaw, “your wife must learn to trust me, to regard me as a friend. Remember, you have known me all your life. Kassandra is first getting to know me. And allowing herself to rely upon me will not come easily to her. After a lifetime of having no one to lean on it is a miracle that she can depend upon you the way she does. Give her time. This nightmare is terribly painful to her, not only to discuss, but simply to recall. We are making progress, I promise you. You must have patience.”
Braden nodded tersely. “I know, Alfred, I know. But I hate to see her suffer the way she is. And I don’t know how to help her.”
“You help her just by being there … just by giving her your love,” the doctor replied softly. So saying, he strolled off toward the dining room. “Now I am off to be fed. Perhaps you and I will have an opportunity to ride together later. I hear that Kassandra has managed the impossible and properly domesticated Star.
That
is something I should like to see.”
Braden stared after Alfred, only half hearing the last of his words, focusing on the first:
just by giving her your love.
Apparently Alfred had deduced Braden’s feelings for Kassie even before he himself had.
“How did Dr. Howell’s examination of Kassandra go?” Charles’s quiet voice broke into Braden’s startled realization. Turning to his friend, he felt a wave of compassion. He saw the lines of worry about Charles’s mouth, knew very well that Charles had become intensely fond of Kassandra and was terribly worried about her condition.
“Alfred feels that he made good progress,” Braden told him honestly. “They were together all morning. I believe that Kassie described the details of her dream. I know nothing more.” He muttered an oath beneath his breath, his own veneer cracking. “Damn it, Charles, I feel so helpless!” He turned to his friend for support, letting down his guard, showing his fear and pain to the only man who was ever permitted to see it. “Ever since I met Kassie I’ve somehow been able to help her when she’s been hurt. Until now. Now, when she needs me the most, I can do nothing.” He rubbed his eyes wearily, missing the pained look that crossed Charles’s face.
“You are Kassandra’s world,” the older man said soberly a mere heartbeat later. “I know she loves you. And whether she knows it or not, she needs you desperately. Just as, whether you know it or not, you are in love with her.”
Braden’s head shot up, his expression stunned. “Did
everyone
know of my feelings except me?” he asked in wonder.
Charles gave him an ironic smile. “Everyone but you … and Kassandra.”
Their eyes met, Braden’s dark with mixed emotion, Charles’s warm with understanding. “You’ll tell her,” he said, his deep voice filled with reassurance. “When you’re ready you’ll tell her.”
Braden nodded, too choked to speak. After a moment he cleared his throat. “I think I’ll take Star out for some exercise. Why don’t you and Alfred join me later?”
“Fine. We’ll catch up to you at the hurdles,” Charles answered, understanding Braden’s reaction, his quick change of subject. The feelings were too new and raw, the awareness too frightening to discuss. He needed time.
Braden’s thoughts were much the same as Charles’s. The knowledge of his love for Kassie stayed with him throughout the day, warming him and terrifying him all at once. It was ridiculous, actually. The feeling had been there all along; why did it unnerve him so to admit its presence?
He was unusually quiet during his ride with Charles and Alfred, excusing himself immediately thereafter to retire to his study, presumably to work. But the pile of correspondence on his desk remained unanswered; the business contracts on his desk were left untouched. Instead Braden spent much of the day staring out the window, watching the beauty of the late summer day. The trees were vibrantly green, the grounds immaculately manicured and alive with a rainbow of exquisite flowers. Three years ago, he mused, would he even have noticed nature’s wonders? No. It was Kassie who had taught him the miracles that nature wrought; Kassie who had penetrated the hardened surface and the hollow exteriors of his life; Kassie who had reached down inside him and taught him what it meant to be loved. He shut his eyes. Now he needed to learn how to love in return. Perhaps she could teach him that as well.
Closing his desk with a firm click, Braden made his way purposefully toward the stairway. Kassie would be dressing for dinner. He needed to see her. Now.
He had his foot on the first step when he heard the commotion.
“Your Grace! Your Grace!” Perkins fairly flew through the hall, his weathered cheeks ruddy from the effort.
“What on earth is it, Perkins?” Braden had never seen his butler so near hysteria.
“It’s the duchess’s father!”
Braden felt everything inside him go cold. “Grey? What about him?”
“He is here … at Sherburgh,” Perkins panted. “Insisting on seeing the duchess. The footmen, the gardeners, even the stable boys tried to stop him, but—”
“Where is he?”
“He tried to gain entry through the front door. I refused to allow it. I thought he had gone. But Dobson just told me that he saw him scale the great oak beside the house. Harding is there trying to restrain him, but—”
“My God.” Braden was already in motion, taking the steps two at a time. The tree that Perkins was describing led to Kassie’s bedchamber. Grey would have no way of knowing it, but assuming he was not too foxed to manage the climb, Robert would go directly from the towering oak to Kassie’s balcony. And to Kassie.
Kassie stared at her reflection, seeing a very frightened, unsure young woman looking back. She was still unnerved from her session with Dr. Howell, and she knew that she had to muster the strength to face another talk tomorrow, and the next day and the next. She shuddered. Somewhere inside her was the answer. She only prayed that in finding it she did not destroy herself.
The sound of a heavy thud and a man’s curse made her start and cry out in alarm. She spun about in time to see her father stagger onto his feet on her balcony. He peered down to the ground below him, muttering, “Damned valet,” then stumbled into the room. His bloodshot eyes met Kassie’s horrified ones, and he stopped, blinking, a stunned look crossing his face, as if he hadn’t expected to find her there. Suddenly he gave a harsh laugh and went toward her.
“Well, this is certainly a rare stroke of luck. Imagine, my own little Kassandra … just the one I wanted t’see.”
“Father,” she whispered, beginning to tremble violently, “what are you doing here?”
“I came t’see you … my own little beauty.”
“Father, please.” She took an instinctive step backward. “Go. I have no money to give you.”
He paused, narrowing his eyes. “What makes you think I came for money?” When she didn’t answer he gave an ugly laugh. “I s’pose your husband told you about our little visit yesterday. I should’ve known you would tell him about my coming here.” He stiffened. “And about those damned dreams,” he muttered. He groaned suddenly, clutching his head as if to drive away some unknown demons. For a moment his words were totally lucid. “Can’t you stop? Haven’t you tortured me enough?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kassie cried out, moving further away. “How am I torturing you? It is
you
who are torturing me!” She needed to know. “Why did you tell Braden you knew nothing about my nightmares? Why?”
If Robert heard her question, he ignored it, lost again in his own broken thoughts. “Did you hear it?” he demanded. “Everything we said? Do you have t’remind me of it? I
know
it was my fault—all of it! But I never thought it would come t’this!”
He dropped his hands to his sides, staring at Kassie as if she were an apparition. “I begged you to leave him … begged you. But instead you left me. Why? Was it because of his title? Who the hell was he? Why did you leave me? I loved you so bloody much!” His eyes blazed with anger, with madness. “Damn you for leaving me, Elena! Damn you!” He lunged for Kassie. “Now you’ll pay!”
Kassie’s scream echoed simultaneously with the splintering sound of the bedchamber door being kicked open. Braden exploded into the room, grabbing Robert by the throat and flinging him against the wall. “You miserable son of a bitch!” Braden shouted, wild with rage, “I told you that if you ever came near my wife again, I would kill you!”
Robert staggered to his feet, rubbing his neck where Braden’s hand had been. “Ah, the nobleman himself, here t’claim his prize. The question is, can you keep her? I couldn’t.”
Braden lunged for Robert again, propelling him out the open doors onto the balcony.
Robert seemed to come to life, driven by his own internal demons. He drew back his arm and swung, connecting his fist to Braden’s stomach.
“Braden, please … stop, please!” Kassie was sobbing helplessly, moving forward and reaching out toward Braden, begging him time and again to stop.
Braden was beyond hearing anything save the deafening roar in his head. He was on his feet in an instant, charging at Robert and slamming him against the curved wall of the balcony.
Kassie watched in horror as her husband and her drunken father continued to battle, murder in their eyes. It was no contest. Smaller and slighter in stature, Robert was also severely lacking in coordination due to his intoxicated state. Kassie saw it coming before it happened. Her piercing scream accompanied Braden’s final swing, which struck Robert squarely in the jaw, knocking him totally off balance. For an instant he teetered at the railing, and then with a frightened cry he toppled off the balcony, disappearing from view.
Braden rushed to the edge, peering down in time to see Robert being yanked from the thick shrubbery to his feet by a livid Harding one story below. More dazed than hurt, Grey did not resist as Harding dragged him along, away from the house and ultimately from Sherburgh.
Braden’s blood was still pumping, the desire to murder Kassie’s father so strong that he could barely contain it. His heart was pounding wildly, his fists clenched as he struggled for control. It was Kassie’s frightened whimper that made him turn around, and what he saw made his heart contract with fear.
Kassie stood just behind him, her face white as a sheet, her breath coming in short, terrified pants, her eyes glazed with unnatural horror. Braden raced to her side, whispering her name, reaching out to hold her. But she remained as she was, staring yet unseeing, her lips moving wordlessly again and again, no sound emerging.
“Kassie! He’s all right! See, he’s unharmed!” Braden spoke rapidly, desperately to his wife, pointing at Robert’s rapidly retreating figure. Still she remained as she was, trembling, unresponsive.
“Kassie!” Braden was frantic. He went to her, shook her, willing her to acknowledge him, to speak. But when she did he almost wished that she had not. For the one broken word she uttered was heartbreaking in its anguish, and its possible meaning left Braden ill.
“Mama …”
F
OR THE HUNDREDTH TIME
that evening Braden eased open the door to Kassie’s room and peeked in. It was hard to believe that the serenely relaxed angel enveloped by the multitude of bedcovers was the same hysterical young woman who had clung to him a few hours earlier. In contrast she slept, her breathing deep and even, her perfect features undisturbed. Beside her, looking as straight-backed and vigilant as a night watchman at his post, sat Margaret, ready to alert His Grace should the duchess awaken. In truth, it was highly unlikely that she would, since Alfred had assured them that the laudanum he had administered would keep Kassie dreamlessly asleep until dawn.
Silently Braden closed the door and stepped out into the hallway, only to collide with a tight-lipped Harding and a pacing Perkins. Calmly Braden assured the two men of Kassie’s well-being, then headed for the stairway. No longer was he stunned by the obvious affection and loyalty his servants felt for Kassandra. She had won
his
heart; it seemed only fitting that she had captured the hearts of his impervious butler and austere valet as well.
Braden headed toward the dining room, where the gentlemen were taking their brandy. Three anxious faces looked up as he reentered the room.
Charles spoke first. “Is she all right?”
Braden nodded, easing into his chair. “She is resting comfortably.”
Cyril frowned, toying with his half-filled glass. “I still don’t understand what the devil is going on here!”