“Do ye mean to tell me that ye truly don’t want to talk about it? Ye don’t want to understand what happened to us?” she managed at last, the words echoing with incredulity.
After all these years, this surely couldn’tbe how it all ended between them. Senga had imagined finding Noah’s grave one day or hearing the tragic story of his final battle from some misty-eyed old friend.
Either idea gave her pain, but she’d long since given up on seeing him alive again. She’d never imaginedthis.
Noah stared down at her for a long moment.
“I did once,” he said at last. “I would have sold my soul to understand it all. But that was years ago. I’ve spent all that time learning to live with the questions, with the uncertainty. The thing about people, ye understand, is that they can get used toanything. Anything. And me, I’ve gotten used to not knowing. I like it better this way.”
Senga blinked up at him, heart hammering. She felt dizzy. She felt the familiar twist of desire inside her. She felt something almost like resentment, the feelings all mixing together to create plain old nausea.
“Ye blame me for what happened,” she breathed at last.
That muscle twitched in his jaw again, and Noah glanced away.
“It’s best not to assign blame,” he responded shortly. “I don’t want to speak of it, and I don’t appreciate ye forcing yer way in here.”
Anger made Senga’s vision actually shiver and redden. She let out a breath and concentrated on his wound, wrapping the last of the bandages around it. Round and round she went, the gauzy material shaping around the thick swell of his biceps.
“Ye could always have asked me to leave,” she responded at last, when she judged herself to be sufficiently in control of her emotions. “I offered my help, and ye accepted it, remember?”
There was a long silence before he responded.
“Aye,” Noah admitted at last. “I remember.”
“Are ye a married man, Noah? A family man?”
His gaze locked onto her again. Senga wasn’t sure why she’d asked that question, but of course it was too late now.
“Nay,” he answered at last, his voice heavy. “I have no heart to give away. Ye took it with ye when ye left me.”
Senga tied off the knot of the bandages and stepped back, letting her hands drop to her side.
“Left ye?” she echoed incredulously, letting out a half-laugh, half-scoff. “Where did ye hear that?”
“Hear it? Everybody knew it. Laird Murray?—”
“My father told ye I left ye and ye believed my father’s lies? Yebelievedhim?”
Noah stared down at her, eyes wide, and for an instant, Senga saw the boy she’d known waiting there, just behind his eyes.
“I don’t know what to believe,” he said at last, sounding exhausted. “The thing with scars, Senga, is that they won’t heal if ye keep picking at them. Opening past wounds is a waste of time. I’ve got plenty of scars, and I have no desire to gain any more. Thank ye for yer help, but I wish ye had left Keep Grahame today. It would have been best for everybody.”
He took a step forward, then another, and Senga reflexively retreated before him. Before she knew what was happening, she had stepped across the threshold and found herself in the dark hallway once more.
Noah met her eye and gave a faint, exhausted smile.
“Goodbye, Senga. Ye stay in yer clean halls, and I’ll stay where I always was—out in the blood and dirt.”
Then he closed the door, leaving her outside in the darkness.
Chapter 4
Talk Or Fight
It seemed quieter in the Keep with the nuns gone. The Great Hall was emptier, but there was talk of turning other rooms into dedicated healing chambers.
A full day had passed since the lasses and the Sisters left, a full day since Senga had spoken to Noah. In that full day, she hadn’t even had time to sit down and rest. Through all the work, however, it seemed that Noah lingered in her mind. He simply wouldn’t go away, no matter how hard she tried.
