Hadn’t he fought with his father in this very room?
Everyone seemed aware, or at least suspicious of her duplicity—everyone but him.
Love was not simply blind, it was hazardous.
Many a man had stared wars over the love of a woman, and he was not immune to the inclination. It was only the wisdom of his father that had ended the argument before it came to blows.
Even now, Heathcliff could see the expression in his father’s gray eyes when he spoke. “I love you, and if this is your choice, so be it. And when your world crumbles, because crumble it will, we will still be here. Just promise me one thing . . .”
Oh, he had hated his father in that moment, but his honor wouldn’t let him refuse the challenge in his father’s words, so he had fisted his hands and listened.
His hands flexed instinctively at the memory.
His father had made him promise not to run away, but to run home.
He’d been doing it ever since, in one way or another.
His father’s words had been prophetic.
How Heathcliff wished he had listened, and if he had, perhaps, perhaps it would be different today.
The betrayal of Margot was swift in its reckoning.
In hindsight, he could see her behavior was overly flirtatious, but his inexperience had whispered the lies to his heart that gave him the freedom to believe them. Certainly a well-bred lady wouldn’t become a strumpet once married.
After all, she loved him, didn’t she?
He was quick to propose, and she swift to accept. Certain of her affection for him, he had battled his father’s wisdom against their quick engagement. It was the spark that ignited the fight between him and his father, only to result in an agreement where there would be no winner.
He took a deep breath, banishing the ghosts and memories from his mind. He focused on the fire, the sound of the sparks kindling, and the shuffle of papers as he lifted them from his desk.
He was a shell of a man when Lucas found him.
Temptations saved him in more ways than one.
Like ice water, the memories cooled his curiosity about the new governess.
To be intrigued only led to disappointment.
And disappointment was kin to heartbreak.
And he had vowed long ago, never again.
He’d survived once.
It wasn’t that he didn’t think he could survive again.
Rather, he was afraid he would.
And death was welcome over surviving any more loss.
