Behind the Mask (33 page)

“Was that sincere enough for you?” he asked. She looked baffled and he clarified, “You told me once that when you were kissed with sincerity, you would know. So, I’m asking if—”

“Yes, Cameron.” She pressed a hand over his face. “Your sincerity is evident.”

He sighed and guided her head to his shoulder, where he could feel her crying. He lifted her chin with his finger to kiss her again, and with her eager response he felt all of his pain melt away. Her kiss gave him hope and made him realize that mankind was good and life was worth living. He felt a sense of rebirth into the civilized world, where love
could
conquer all. And most importantly, he knew he was alive. He was not a dead spirit, lingering in an existing body. He
did
know how to feel—and how to love.

Cameron eased his lips away and pressed his face against hers. She pulled back to look at him and they both laughed, wiping away each other’s tears.

“Oh, Abbi,” he said, hugging her tightly. Then he laughed again. “There’s so much I want to say, I hardly know where to begin.”

Abbi stood and took his hand, urging him to his feet. “I don’t care where you begin,” she said, leading him to the sofa where they sat close together. “I just want you to talk to me.” She looked into his eyes, marveling at the changes she saw there. “Tell me . . .” she touched his face, “what kind of magic has wrought this change in you.”

Cameron pressed his brow to hers. “I
am
changed, Abbi. But I believe the magic is yours.” He did his best to explain the internal battles that had raged within him, where his pride and fear had fought against all logic and feeling. He told her of his sleepless night that had led him through the depths of hell and into a brighter day. As difficult as it was to describe such an experience, he was amazed at how she understood.

When he had nothing more to tell her, she touched his face, saying, “I only fear that I’ll awaken tomorrow and find you hiding behind invisible walls again.”

“No, Abbi. I understand that habits can be difficult to break, and I need your guidance. But I swear to you, my love, from this moment forward, I will always be completely honest with you. I would expect the same from you, even if it means telling me that I’m out of line.” A thought jolted Cameron, and he eased away from her.

“What is it?” she asked, sensing his alarm.

“I . . . must make an exception to that promise.” He looked into her eyes as if he were about to tell her of the world’s end. “I will be completely honest with you, Abbi, concerning my feelings, my fears . . . but . . . there are things I cannot tell you. You must understand. You must trust me. I don’t know what the future might hold for us, but I do know that your ignorance in certain matters could very well keep you safe.”

“I’m not generally curious by nature,” she said thoughtfully, “but . . . I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Cameron.” A smile peeked through his grave countenance for only a moment. “That’s all you need to know for now. You know too many people who know me, Abbi. My heart and soul are yours. But as long as I am a fugitive, it’s better that you know nothing more of me or my circumstances.”

Abbi glanced away, disconcerted.

“I know it sounds preposterous, Abbi. You must trust me.”

She looked into his eyes, saying firmly, “I
do
trust you, Cameron.”

He breathed an audible sigh of relief, pulling her close to him again. “I love you, Abbi. And I thank God for sending you to me.”

Abbi nuzzled against his shoulder. “Amen,” she murmured. In her heart she knew her place was with Cameron, wherever he might lead her. She didn’t know his name. But she knew his heart. And it belonged to her.

Chapter Ten

ALLIANCE

T
hree days after their confessions of love, Abbi found Cameron in the stable. He smiled at her as she entered and leaned against the door. There was no tangible reason why she shouldn’t feel completely comfortable with him. But something remained uneasy between them, and she needed to understand it.

“Cameron?” she asked tentatively, watching him throw clean straw into the horses’ stalls. He made a noise to indicate he was listening. “We promised to be completely honest with each other, right?”

“Yes, of course,” he said, glancing at her in question.

“There’s something I need to say.”

Cameron closed the stall and leaned against it, giving her his full attention. “I’m listening.”

Abbi pulled her cloak more tightly around her. The January air was bitter, even here in the stable. She glanced away, realizing this was more difficult than she’d expected.

“Abbi, what is it?” he asked, his concern evident.

She cleared her throat and began without looking at him. “You told me that you love me, and I have every reason to believe that you meant it.”

“I
do
love you,” he insisted, wondering how she could doubt something that consumed him so completely. When she didn’t go on, he asked, “What are you getting at, Abbi? Have I done something to upset you? Have I hurt you or—”

“I don’t know,” she said, finally looking at him. “I’ve never loved anyone before.”

“Neither have I,” he said and shook his head. “Not like this; never in my life have I felt the way I feel about you.” He saw doubt in her eyes and wondered over its source. “What would make you think otherwise? Help me understand what’s wrong, Abbi.”

She said nothing for a moment and he realized she was freezing. “Come inside where it’s warm,” he said, “and we can talk.”

Abbi said nothing as she walked from the stable to the lodge and sat on one of the sofas, still wrapped in her cloak, and pulled her feet beneath her. She noticed the way Cameron sat on the opposite sofa, while his eyes penetrated her with overt adoration. His gestures so often seemed to contradict his emotions, and she wondered why. But she didn’t know how to voice it.

When nothing was said for several minutes, Cameron felt compelled to express some thoughts of his own that might help her understand how inadequate he felt. “Abbi,” he leaned forward and looked directly at her, “there’s something I’ve had on my mind that I . . . well, it’s difficult to talk about, but . . . maybe it needs to be said. You see, you’ve made me look at myself in a way I never have before. And I’ve had to wonder if . . . well, if I somehow contributed to the failure of my marriage to Gwen.” Abbi looked more interested than concerned, so he continued. “She was a difficult woman. But then, I look at my behavior toward you at times, and I have to admit that I can be a difficult man. It stands to reason that we behave the way our parents taught us to behave by their example. My mother was the kindest and best of women. I was often told that I favored her personality, but I fear I have some of my father in me as well. I loved my father, Abbi, but he was a harsh man. And I realized one day that he didn’t treat my mother very well.”

Briefly at a loss for words, he wondered if she was following him at all. “What I’m trying to say, Abbi, is that . . . I don’t want to be like my father. You must help me to see . . . and to understand . . . what’s appropriate and what isn’t. I want us to be open and honest with each other. I never want our friendship to end, no matter what the future may bring. Am I making any sense?”

Abbi nodded, amazed at how perfectly she understood. “But what makes you think that I know any more about keeping a relationship strong than you do, Cameron? My mother died when I was five, and my father was more like a distant relative who visited on occasion. I was raised by a gruff old man who never took me to church and never had a woman in his life as long as I knew him. He taught me to believe in myself . . . to be competent and strong. I loved him very much, but he wasn’t a warm man. There was no display of emotion between us. How can I possibly know if what I’m feeling is right or not? If something bothers me, is it valid or just—”

“If it bothers you, then it’s valid,” he interrupted firmly. He watched her face closely and said with confidence, “Something
is
bothering you, Abbi. What is it? Talk to me.”

Abbi resigned herself to just saying it. “Lately I feel as if . . . we’re growing further apart. Shouldn’t we be getting closer, sharing more? If I love you, and you love me, then . . .” She stopped when he only looked more confused. “What?” she demanded.

“I don’t understand, Abbi. We talk about feelings I’ve never discussed with anyone. We do everything together. How can we be closer than that?”

Emotion accompanied the heart of the problem into the open. “You don’t . . . kiss me. You don’t . . . touch me. We don’t hold hands. You hardly even look at me. I sit on one side of the room. You sit on the other.”

Cameron turned abruptly away as the problem became clear. But how could he explain without hurting her further?

“We have months left until spring, Cameron,” she went on, hearing her own voice tremble. “I can’t bear the thought of feeling this way until . . . until . . . what? I don’t even know what will happen beyond that.”

“That’s just it, Abbi,” he said, his eyes showing a trace of anger that had once been familiar. “The uncertainty of my future makes it difficult for me to . . . get too close.” His voice softened. “Oh, Abbi, don’t you see? I fear that if I touch you, I’ll never be able to let go.”

“Is that so bad?” she asked softly, relieved to at least understand the source of his behavior.

She saw his eyes soften as he met her gaze; his voice was barely audible. “I want you so badly, but I will not compromise you, Abbi. You deserve better than that.”

“I would not expect you to. I know the kind of man you are. But . . .” She hesitated, not knowing how to express her feelings without sounding somehow wicked.

“But?” he pressed.

“There are many weeks of winter left, Cameron. Can we live like this?”

“Do we have a choice?” he asked tersely.

“I don’t know!” she countered. “I only know that I love you!”

“For that I am truly grateful. But the fact is, you know absolutely nothing about me. I’m not even sure I know myself anymore. Who am I?”

“You are Cameron—the only man I’ll ever love,” she replied easily.

But he responded with anger. “Cameron what? Is Cameron my real name? Do I even have a name? You don’t know! What do I have to offer you? How do you know that what you see here isn’t all I have?”

“It’s enough!”

“Not for me, it isn’t!” he shouted. Then his eyes turned sad. “Not to give you.”

“Cameron, listen to me,” she said with a glowing conviction that caught his attention. “I was well aware, long before I saddled Blaze and rode up here the first time, that my coming could not be halfhearted or lacking any degree of conviction. I came here prepared to take on whatever being with you might require of me—but you sent me away. Fate may have intervened to make it possible for me to be here in spite of the promise I made to you, but if I had been given the choice, at a moment’s notice, to be snowed in here with you, or to be left aching on your behalf while your existence here haunted me night and day, I would still be here. I fought that battle a long time ago. I could either live with you or live in torment.”

Cameron absorbed her words and the meaning beneath them, wondering how one so young could be so wise and resolved. He shook his head and sighed. “Or both . . . as it turned out.”

“I don’t know your reasons for being here, Cameron, but I know you wouldn’t be if life had been fair to you.
My
reasons for being here are not impulsive or naive. I came prepared to give you all that I have and all that I am, and I expected the same in return. It doesn’t matter how much or how little you have to give me, as long as it’s forever. I don’t need anything but you, Cameron. It doesn’t matter who or what you are, I love you.”

Cameron felt hard pressed not to break down and cry after such a glorious speech. Still, one fact stood out strongly. “But what if loving me puts your life in danger?”

“I would gladly risk any danger to have a future with you, Cameron—any future at all.”

“Maybe there is no future, Abbi. Maybe now is all we get.”

“I’m not willing to accept that.”

“You might have to!” he shouted. “You can’t possibly be content to live this way forever.”

“And you are?” she asked, giving him a hard stare.

“Content or not, my feelings for you do not change my circumstances.”

“No, they do not,” she countered. “Only
you
can do that.”

“But I can’t if—”

“You could if you wanted to! Are you going to stay up here for the rest of your life? The circumstances will not magically change while you sit here and wallow in your misery. You’ve got to do something about it, Cameron. It’s not your circumstances that keep you imprisoned here, it is your perception of them.”

Cameron felt the words enter his heart while his mind became defensive at the very idea. He was ready to spout a list of reasons why he could never leave this place under the circumstances, but she quickly went on to prove herself unquestionably right—once again.

“If living here has been so horrible for you, why didn’t you just . . . leave the country? Change your name? Make a different life? I can understand why that would be difficult, but it certainly proves the point that there are always options. Your fugitive status is valid, Cameron, and no small thing. I’m not disputing that. But what holds you back from at least trying to find a way to prove your innocence? Is it possible that what you’re really hiding from is inside yourself?”