Before anyone else can bear witness to my bloodshot eyes and ashen cheeks. I haven’t slept a wink, and it shows.
Heartbreak does not look good on me. Hell, it doesn’tfeelgood either.
With every step around my cramped bedroom as I snatch up my belongings, my poor heart throbs in pain. My legs are leaden, and my frenzied brain is fighting against a tidal wave of exhaustion that threatens to drown me.
But I just need to get through these next few minutes. Through these next hours; through this day. And once I’m safely back on the mainland, once I’m away fromhim, I can let myself fall apart completely.
Come on, Maddy. One step at a time.
Downstairs, when I shove the kitchen door open to the grounds, wincing at the loud shriek of its hinges, the cold sea air stings my face. It whips my hair against my cheeks and fills my lungs with the scent of frozen brine. And it wakes me the hell up, sending a bolt of electricity down my spine.
Go, go, go.
I heave my suitcase through the door and glance around.
No sign of Lord Westmore. Only one of the groundsmen striding across the grass in the distance, lifting an arm in greeting. I wave back awkwardly, like I’m not visibly running away before the sun is fully up, but the groundsman doesn’t care. He’s already turned away, tugging on his thick gloves.
Good. Fine.
I’m used to no one missing me when I leave. And if I thought this time would be different…
Sharp pain lances through my chest and, sniffing hard, I yank my suitcase up by the handle. Don’t want to roll its noisy wheels along the stone path. Don’t want to draw an ounce of attention if I can help it.
Just want to run far, far away, and hide from these battered feelings.
My back aches as I heave my suitcase around the back of the manor and out across the grounds. The grass is spongy beneath my feet, the ground level at first then sloping down toward the steel-gray waves that crash against the rocks. Sniffing hard, I raise my chin and force my legs to keep moving.
Over at the land bridge, there’s a shape. A man’s figure, standing still and watching me approach. Belated alarm bells ring in my tired brain, but by the time I lug my heavy suitcase all the way to West’s feet, my jaw is set with determination.
If this lord wants to keep me here, he’ll have to lock me behind bars. I’mdone.
“Standing guard, your lordship?” My case crashes onto the salt-flecked rock between us. Beyond West, the bare stone of the land bridge looms over the waves, cutting a direct path back to the mainland. The tide is low. I can make it. “No offense, but even with this suitcase, I’m probably faster than you.”
“Probably,” West agrees. He sounds as bone-tired as I feel, and for the first time this morning, I glance up at his face—then ball my hands into fists to keep from reaching for him.
Because Lord Westmore looks freakingruined.
His hair is mussed, sticking out in weird clumps like he’s been tugging at it all night with both hands. He looks older. Sadder. Dark shadows ring his eyes, and he’s in the same shirt and waistcoat as last night, the fabric creased to hell and back.
How long has he been out here without a coat? He must be frozen solid.
Don’t you dare,I tell myself sternly, drawing both fists behind my back. I willnotfuss over this man like I desperately want to. I willnotblow on his frozen fingers and tug his shirt collar straight and pet his rumpled hair.
West doesn’t want me.
He’s my employer, and he’s nearly twice my age. Remember? Any silly story I told myself about happy endings and soul connections was an embarrassing daydream.
He was very clear about that in his study last night. Replaying it in my mind for the thousandth time, hearing his coldness and scorn, makes every breath sting as it drags into my lungs. I sway on my feet, vision blurring with sudden tears that I angrily swipe away.
“I’m leaving,” I choke out. Damn, I wish I could be cooler about this. Wish I could flounce past, not a care in the world, looking like a million bucks. Instead I’m sad and tired and broken, curling in on myself beneath my winter clothes. “You can’t stop me.”
West nods, his expression so grave where it’s fixed on me.
“Okay,” he says. “Will you let me come with you, Maddy?”
My face scrunches up, and I squint at him like an idiot. At this man who shattered my heart into tiny fragments last night, all with his insistence that he’dneverleave this island, and most certainly not for me.
“Uh,” I say stupidly. “What’s that now?”
