Andrea Kane (39 page)

What he saw were signs of indignation.

“How could you?” she demanded, twin spots of color staining her cheeks.

Braden’s brows went up. “How could I what?”

She didn’t mince words. “Charles came to my room. He wanted to say good-bye.”

Braden’s hand dropped to his side, and he tensed. “That could be for the best.”

“And
you
could be a damned fool.” Ignoring Braden’s stunned expression, she continued. “Charles is no more capable of murder than I am. And what’s more, you know it.”

A muscle worked frantically in Braden’s jaw. “Leave it, Kassie. There are things
you
do not know.”

“Such as what?” she shot back. “That Charles was on the cliffs yesterday when that boulder fell? Yes, Braden,” she responded to his shocked, questioning look, “Charles told me the whole story. Which he would have told you, had you bothered to listen. But you didn’t even wait to hear what he had to say, did you, husband? You were too eager to accuse him of attempted murder!” She took a deep breath, trying to bring herself under control. She was well aware that other than the night she had found Abigail in Braden’s bed, this was the only time she had blatantly stood up to her husband. But she was determined to get through to him, for his sake, for Charles’s sake. And for her own sake as well.

Disregarding the glacial coldness in Braden’s eyes and the withdrawn rigidity of his stance, she pushed on, the trembling of her small chin the only evidence of her turmoil. “Braden,” she said as she held his gaze, “are you so steeped in distrust that you can no longer recognize love and friendship in their truest form?”

“I’m not certain that either love or friendship exists.” His tone was bitter, unyielding, but Kassie knew how badly he needed to be proven wrong.

She stepped closer to him. “They exist,” she told him with tender conviction. “And they are reaffirmed every time I’m in your arms.”

Braden made a tortured sound. “When you’re in my arms I don’t know what I feel—”

“I didn’t ask what
you
feel,” she interrupted softly. “I’m telling you what
I
feel. I love you.” She gripped his powerful biceps. “So does Charles.”

He continued to stare at her, unmoving. “I do not share your blind faith, Kassie,” he said at last. “I’ve tried, but I cannot.”

“You could if you would allow yourself to do so,” she countered. She wanted to shake him, to force him to see the truth—that not only did she and Charles love him, but he loved them as well. But in her infinite wisdom Kassie knew that certain truths had to be discovered by oneself.

With the right guidance, of course.

A flash of emotion softened Braden’s haunted look, then disappeared. “I have to sort this out by myself, Kassie.”

She nodded sadly. “I know. But while you do, don’t let Charles leave Sherburgh. Once you come to your senses you’ll never forgive yourself.” She stepped away from him—an unnecessary physical gesture, as she could already feel his emotional retreat severing the closeness they had once shared. For a moment she contemplated throwing herself back into his arms, begging him to love her. But she couldn’t.

It was a question not of pride, but of pragmatism. She didn’t want her husband out of guilt and obligation, only out of love.

Kassie blinked away the tears that wet her lashes. “If you need me, I am here,” she said simply. Then, before she disgraced herself by helplessly succumbing to the racking sobs that threatened to erupt, she turned and left the bedchamber.

In the hallway she gave in, leaning against the wall and crying silent tears of pain and heartache. She felt empty inside, having lost more in one day than any person could endure.

“Your Grace, are you all right?” It was Harding, looking pale with worry. His kind face only succeeded in making her cry harder. “Your Grace?” Harding moved to her side.

“I’ll take care of the duchess.”

Kassie looked up in surprise as Cyril strode over and took her arm. “Come Kassandra,” he said, in a voice more gentle than he had used in days. “I’ll take you to your room.”

She nodded, beginning to tremble. Apparently reaction was once again claiming her. And if Cyril’s kindness was merely forced, and based on compassion at the loss of her father, she quite frankly didn’t care. She accepted it gratefully.

He let her lean upon him and drench his shirt with her scalding tears while he guided her to her room. Once inside he continued to hold her, murmuring soothing words into her hair.

At last, utterly spent, Kassie drew back, wiping her cheeks with the backs of her hands. “Thank you,” she said with quiet dignity.

He stared at her, his dark eyes enigmatic. “Will you be all right?”

“Yes. I just need some time.”

Cyril glanced toward Braden’s room, as if assessing the full reason for Kassie’s tears. But all he said was “Very well. Should you need anything, I would be glad to provide it.”

With another speculative look he was gone.

R
OBERT GREY WAS LAID
to rest in a secluded spot beside Elena on the cottage grounds following a small, private service. As the vicar recited the last prayer Braden wrapped his hand tightly about Kassie’s and held her in his arms while she cried.

But with the funeral behind them Braden withdrew, becoming distant and brooding, spending endless days pouring over business contracts and restless evenings racing Star wildly across the grounds of Sherburgh.

It was as if he wanted to exorcise the demons that plagued him, Kassie thought. This she understood, as her own days were bleak, her nights hell.

Outwardly nothing had changed since her father’s death. Charles stayed on, though removed from the rest of the household; Cyril continued to offer sympathetic concern; and Braden displayed an outward show of support when their paths crossed. But it had been over a week since they had shared a bed … since he had made love to her. Kassie knew the chasm between them had never been greater, and she felt the loss keenly in her body and in her heart.

To compound her difficulties, she was devastated from the renewed outbreak of her nightmares. The frequency and intensity of the dream were worse than ever before, causing her to awaken in a cold sweat two or three times a night until she felt on the brink of a complete emotional collapse.

It was at this, her lowest point, that Kassie sought help.

Ten lonely days, ten tortured nights were enough, she thought determinedly, climbing out of bed. It was just after sunrise, and Kassie dressed rapidly. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—succumb to self-pity forever. It was time to shape her own future.

The first floor was quiet, no surprise at this hour of the day; Kassie was unperturbed. “Perkins?” she called softly.

Instantly the butler was by her side.

“What can I do for you, Your Grace?”

She smiled. “You can see if Dr. Howell is up and about yet. I would really like to speak with him.”

“At once, Your Grace.”

Kassie wandered through Sherburgh’s lovely green salon, waiting for Perkins’s return. This room was one of her favorites, with lime velvet sofas, deep woven carpets, and a huge window that looked out onto the gardens. The splendor of a castle, the warmth of a cottage. It was perfect.

“You wanted to see me, Kassandra?”

Kassie turned to see Dr. Howell regarding her curiously. Neither the tension existing in the house nor Kassie’s depressed state had gone unnoticed by him. Yet he patiently awaited her readiness to seek him out and discuss her feelings. Apparently the waiting had finally paid off.

“I hope Perkins did not awaken you.” Nervously Kassie fingered the soft folds of her gown.

He shook his head, clasping his hands behind his back and glancing casually at the paintings that hung on the walls in order to put Kassie at ease. “No, my dear, not at all. I always arise early. I do my best thinking when my mind is fresh.”

Kassie moistened her lips, plunging on without further preliminaries. “Dr. Howell, I believe that I have been neglecting my health and running away from my problems.”

Alfred squinted, studying the brilliant watercolor before him with apparent fascination. “I imagine we are all guilty of both those things on numerous occasions,” he replied. “However, it is only the cleverest of us who recognize when we are doing so.”

Kassie smiled faintly. “You are very kind, doctor. And very wise as well. But in my case, recognizing the problem is but the tip of the iceberg. Solving it is another thing.”

Alfred turned abruptly to face her. “Are we referring to your dreams or your marriage?”

“Both.”

He nodded, gesturing for her to sit down. She sat at the edge of the sofa, and Alfred lowered himself into the wing chair beside her. “Braden is experiencing his own crisis right now, Kassandra.” At her startled look he shook his head. “No, I am not privy to all the details. Nor, however, am I blind. And you must remember that I have known Braden for many years and recall his boyhood quite well. He is unused to unconditional love and selfless commitment, for he has never before experienced them. Until you.”

Kassie stiffened. “Charles loves him.”

At her words Alfred fell silent. Then he nodded carefully. “Yes, Charles loves him. But love and trust, though different emotions, are often inseparable.” At Kassie’s attempted protest Alfred held up his hand. “Whatever is between Braden and Charles must run its course, Kassandra. Have faith in your husband. And above all, love him.”

“I do,” she replied softly. “I always have. I always will.”

He gave her a gentle smile. “If only the world were filled with Kassandras,” he said softly.

She blinked back tears. “Then the world would be anguished and afraid.”

“Have the nightmares not subsided at all?” He sounded surprised. Despite the unrest between Kassie and Braden, Alfred had felt sure that the dreams would fade.

“Meaning that with my father’s death I should feel unafraid of the future and freed of the past?” Kassie gave voice to Dr. Howell’s thoughts, her words tight with suppressed emotion. “Well, I don’t.” She covered her face with her hands. “The dreams have gotten worse, not better,” she whispered. “And I don’t know what to do.”

Alfred cleared his throat. “Could the rift between you and Braden be causing you to sleep poorly?”

Kassie dropped her hands to her lap, sitting bolt upright. “Hardly, Dr. Howell. As you implied earlier, I am not a fool. These are not merely nights of poor sleep, these are vivid, violent recurrences of my nightmare.”

“Violent?” He grasped onto her words. “Have you recalled another facet of the dream?”

The fight went out of her eyes. “No …” She struggled to pinpoint her thoughts. “The images themselves have not changed,” she said slowly, considering the subtle changes in her dream over the past week. “Only now, rather than my seeing but a fleeting glimpse of the beast, he is more vivid than ever.” She shivered, forcing herself to go on. “And I know that he means to kill me.” Even as she spoke the words all the color drained from Kassie’s face.

This was not what Alfred had expected to hear, and he frowned. It made no sense. If his theory was correct and Robert Grey was responsible for his wife’s death, then Kassie should be experiencing a diminished rather than an intensified recurrence of her nightmare. Despite all the turmoil in her life, she should feel great relief that the threat of danger was no longer with her.

Unless the murderer was not Robert Grey.

The startling possibility inserted itself in Alfred’s mind, rearing its ugly head. For a moment he contemplated speaking it aloud, then looked at Kassie’s ashen face and abruptly changed his mind. It was strictly conjecture on his part, without any substantiation. He must think it through, explore the likelihood on his own, before he considered suggesting it to Kassandra.

Yet even as he dismissed the thought as improbable, a nagging doubt remained.

A few minutes later Kassie left the manor and headed for the stables. Her talk with Dr. Howell had yielded no further results, and her despondent mood prevailed, together with an unshakable inner chill. She needed the solace offered by her friends, the beloved Sherburgh Thoroughbreds and their compassionate trainer.

“Charles?” she called out, reaching the stable door. From within she could hear the restless stirrings of the horses as they recognized their mistress’s voice. She went in. “Hello, my love,” she greeted Little Lady, who nuzzled her hand affectionately. Kassie stroked her neck lovingly. “Perhaps when Dobson arrives I’ll have him saddle you,” she murmured. “A morning ride might do us both good.”

The sound of a horse’s hooves, followed by muffled voices, reached Kassie’s ears. Curious, she gave Little Lady a final pat and left the stables. She nearly collided with Dobson, who was cooling down a predictably snorting Star.

Kassie barely saw the groom or the horse, nor did she hear Dobson’s stammering apology as he led Star off. Her eyes were on her husband.

“Good morning, Braden,” she said evenly.

Braden stared at her, his chest tightening painfully. After days of self-imposed isolation he was stunned by the impact Kassie’s presence had on his raw emotions. And while he still felt exposed, vulnerable, he was aware that on some fundamental level he desperately needed his wife. Strangely moved, he drank in everything that Kassie represented: her innocence, her gentleness, her love.

“What are you doing about at this hour?” he asked carefully after a prolonged silence.

“The same thing that you are doing. I couldn’t sleep.”

Distress flashed across Braden’s face. “I see.” He looked at her closely for the first time in days—her pallor, the dark rings under her eyes, the too-slender lines of her body. And what he saw worried him. He frowned. “Are you all right?”

No,
she wanted to scream.
I am not all right. I am so alone, so afraid. And I need my husband.
But “Yes, Braden” was all she said.

He didn’t look convinced. “Have you seen Alfred?”

“What you mean is, has
Dr. Howell
seen
me
.” Kassie raised her chin, walking slowly to where Braden stood. “And the answer is yes, he has. We spoke just moments ago.” She fought the urge to fling herself into Braden’s arms, knowing that he would push her away. “You needn’t worry about me, Braden. I am just fine. As you will recall, I am quite accustomed to taking care of myself.”