His eyebrows rose. “Nila. What are you doing out here?” He peered at the sky. “It might rain...or snow, feels fucking cold enough.” His skin was white, but the tip of his nose was painted red. He’d had a haircut recently and it was trimmed and neat at the side with an unruly mess on top. He looked younger, sadder.
“I’m going for a run. Want to join me?”
I forced away the memory of running with Jethro and ultimately finding my ancestor’s graves. Jethro had wounded me too many times over the past few weeks. I wanted to hate him but couldn’t.
The way he’d begged me to trust him the last time we were together. Theway he looked so close to crumbling under the weight he carried.
He had a plan. I had no choice but to trust him.
It took a strong conviction to trust someone who rarely talked to me and went out of his way to come across as a drug-induced robot.
I blew on my frostbitten fingers. My chill was partly due to the freezing cold day, but it was mainly thanks to living in a historic tomb. Hawksridge Hall was decadent and majestic, but it was damn cold when moving around cavernous corridors. Only the rooms were heated, and even then, the ceilings were so high it was never toasty.
“No, I don’t run.” Kes jostled the gun over his arm. “Thought I’d go for a hunt. Shoot a pheasant or two for dinner.”
We fell into step together. I wrapped my arms around myself, retaining the small amount of body heat I had. “I couldn’t think of anything worse—killing something.”
Will Jethro kill someone? Cut, Daniel...me?
Grey clouds and a faint dusting of mist dulled the vibrancy of the estate. It was magical as much as it was depressing.
Kes noticed my shivering. He stopped.
Holding out the gun, he waited until I took it, then shrugged out of his thick tweed.
The weapon was morbidly heavy. I was only too happy to trade it for the soft wool of his blazer. “You don’t have to—”
“I know.” He slung the tweed over my shoulders, encasing me in his masculine scent of musk and heather. “But I want to.”
“I can’t take it.” I tried to slip it off. “I won’t need it when I start running.”
“Fine.” He narrowed his eyes. “Only trying to be kind.” The pain flickering in his gaze made me keep it on and place an icy hand on his forearm.
His head snapped up.
“Kes...are you okay?”
He snorted, shoving aside his melancholy unsuccessfully. “Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
I looked back at the Hall. It sat ominous and frightening, casting shadows over the hibernating gardens. “You miss him, too. Don’t you?”
His nostrils flared. “We shouldn’t talk about it.”
“Why not? You said all secrets were mine to know.” I smiled, despite the awfulness of the circumstances. “I’m not going anywhere, and I have no one to tell. The world believes I’m marrying into your family. My brother’s reputation is ruined, and my father is a ghost of the man he used to be. What would be the harm in trusting me?”
“You have a point.” For a moment, he looked disgusted. With what? What his family had done to mine? Or that I had the audacity to ask him to trust me?
Finally, he sighed. “I wouldn’t say this in front of anyone else, but...” He inched closer, ducking to whisper in my ear, “I’m sorry. For everything that’s happened.”
For the tiniest moment, my heart fluttered. He was souncomplicatedcompared to Jethro. He kept things hidden—his true agenda being one—but I felt as if he only had one layer beneath his exterior, not thousands.
I placed my hand over his, squeezing in gratitude. “That means a lot. Thank you.”
The moment stretched on for longer than it should; we both jumped awayguiltily.
Clearing his throat, Kes asked, “I’m going to get the foxhounds. Want to come to the stables?”
Huddling deeper into his jacket, I nodded. “Why not? Perhaps it’s not a day for running, after all.”
