“You’re not a curse,” she told him firmly, past the knot inher throat. She hated that Lady Billingsley had chosen such an awful end, thatshe had been spiteful enough to pitch herself from a window knowing Simon wouldfind her. It had been a final act of exerting power over a man who had nolonger wanted to be beneath her dainty thumb. And it had wounded Simon asmortally as any bullet could have.
“Go, Maggie,” he ordered her lowly, resting his head againstthe wall. His breathing was deep and hitched, his heart a rapid thrum beneathher ear. He slammed his fist again, startling her. “Go now.”
“No,” she denied, holding on to him when he would haveshrugged her away. She was afraid to leave him, afraid of what he might do inhis anguish. If he injured himself in some way, she’d never forgive herself.She couldn’t bear that. No, she very much needed Simon in her life, asimpossible as that seemed. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Have you no notion the danger you’re in?” His voice wasdeceptively quiet, laced with darkness. “I’m not myself. Jesus, I don’t thinkI’ll ever be myself again.”
But Maggie remained undeterred. “I’m not here to makedrawing-room pleasantries with you. I’m here because you need me.”
There, she’d said it. He stiffened beneath her touch, andshe feared she’d overstepped the fragile boundaries he had once again erectedbetween them. But then he startled her by spinning around to face her, hishands sinking to her waist. He hauled her up against him, her breasts pressinginto his chest.
His gaze seared hers, raw agony and grief starkly reflectedin his eyes. “Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps I do need you. What will you do forme, Maggie?”
She wasn’t sure she liked the implications in his tone. Shedidn’t know what to say. It was as if the passion that always burned betweenthem was turning into rage. She didn’t want that to tarnish what they’d shared.But still, she wanted to show him she was here for him, an anchor of support ina storm-tossed sea. “What would you have me do for you?”
“Nothing. There’s not a thing you can do.” He drew away fromher, gripping her arms, and shook her with enough force to catch her breath. “Ikeep seeing her face, her body hanging impaled on that damn fence. I caused it.I’m responsible for her death.”
She cupped his beloved face, trying to comfort him, knowingshe couldn’t. He was in pain, blaming himself, lost in the depths of hisagonizing grief. There was no place for her in his heart after this. Everythinghe’d said to her earlier that afternoon outside the carriage seemed to havefallen away. Now there only remained the jarring shock left to survivors.Idon’t think I’ll ever be myself again, he’d said. Thinking of it struckfear within her, fear that all they’d accomplished would be whittled down tonaught. That the love she possessed for him would forever go unanswered.
But she couldn’t think of herself, for that was selfish andweak. She needed to be strong for her husband, to help ease his suffering. “Youmustn’t punish yourself,” she told him. “You did nothing wrong.”
He closed his eyes for a moment. “I did everything wrong.”
She supposed he referred to the last fortnight they’d sharedtogether. To her, it had been heaven. His words stung. “Perhaps I am at fault.If I had never convinced you to spend a month with me, none of this would havehappened.”
“I wish to God it wouldn’t have happened.” He soundedincredibly weary, as if he spoke from his very soul. “But it has, and it is ourheavy mantle to live with. Christ, I’ve got to write to her family, to herhusband. They need to know what’s happened.”
“I can write the letters for you,” she volunteered, numb.Maybe he blamed her as well as himself. If so, it was possible he’d neverforgive her.
“No.” He pushed her away from him. “It’s my duty. Jesus,Maggie, just get out of here before I hurt you. There’s nothing you can do butleave me to my misery.”
She rushed after him as he stalked away from her, placing astaying hand on his arm. “Please, Simon. Don’t keep me at a distance.”
He shrugged away from her touch with such violence that shelost her balance for a moment and stumbled over a book he’d thrown in his rage.It sent her sprawling to the floor, the breath knocked from her lungs. Her headsmacked off the carpet before she could catch herself.
“Damn it,” he gritted, dropping to his knees at her side.His expression had softened to one of concern. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine,” she said, feeling merely shaken and horribly sadfor him, for Lady Billingsley, for herself. “I tripped over the book.”
“Devil take it.” He took her hands in his and hauled her toher feet, severing the contact the instant she stood. “Leave me now, Maggie. Idon’t trust myself.”
“But—”
“Now,” he commanded. His tone was as fierce as hisexpression had become. “Go at once.”
There was no arguing. No winning. He didn’t want her companyor her comfort. Very likely, he didn’t want her at all. “Very well,” sheallowed. “I shall go.”
As she left his study, she couldn’t help but feel she wasmaking a terrible mistake in leaving him alone. But what choice did she have?She could little force herself upon him when he didn’t want her there. All thatremained for her to do was to grant him the solitude he desired. He didn’t wanther, and he’d made that more than apparent. How quickly, she thought as she cuta somber path back to her chamber, the world around her could change. Howquickly it could crumble, never to be mended.
* * * * *
When Maggie woke in the morning, it was to a heavy heart andan empty bed. Simon had never come to her. She had spent a nearly endless vigilwaiting for him until, exhausted and puffy-eyed from the tears she’d beencrying, she finally gave in to slumber. The awful events of the day beforeseemed as though they’d been a nightmare to her as she allowed her lady’s maidto dress her. But the evidence remained in her reflection, the pinched lips,pale cheeks, still-swollen eyes.
Her lady’s maid was uncharacteristically silent as shedressed Maggie’s hair into a subdued style. Her morning dress was a somberblack. Yes, there had been a horrible death. She’d woken in the night twice,swearing she’d heard screams. It was terrifying to think of what LadyBillingsley must have experienced in the final moments of her life. There wouldhave been the stomach-churning fall, the landing on the fence. Maggie prayedshe had passed instantly, that she had not lingered in pain overly long. Andshe prayed too that Simon would somehow recover.
After a final errant curl had been tucked into place, Maggiethanked her lady’s maid and descended to the breakfast room. She wondered whatit would be like to face Simon by the grim light of day. Had he even slept? Shedoubted it. Likely, the days to come would only prove more difficult. He hadlost the woman he loved and he felt responsible for that loss. Maggie knew her ownguilt for her part in the bitter affair. She never would have wished for LadyBillingsley to commit such an act, but she little knew now how she would reactif she were to do it all over again. Would she pursue Simon? Would she leaveknowing he would follow?
It all made her head spin and her heart ache.
