It felt right to give him that name. He was truly Gideon to her, not Aaron. The sound of his voice made hope flare in her breast for a single, blinding instant.
Aaron felt it too.
His hand, already gripping hers with clammy force, tightened like an iron shackle. And then, as though the sound had revived some long-buried strength, his infirmity was gone. The stoop, the slowness, the faltering limp—all vanished. He moved with a power and swiftness that stunned her.
Before she could cry out again, he yanked her across the lawn towards the dark fringe of the trees, his stride sure, his arm strong.
“Aaron, stop!” she gasped, digging in her heels, but he hauled her on as though she weighed no more than a child’s doll.
She turned her head and caught one last glimpse of the house. Gideon appeared at the doorway, framed in sunlight, Meredith behind him, her face pale with confusion.
“Gideon!” Catherine cried, but Aaron clamped a hand over her wrist and dragged her into the wood.
The shadows swallowed them, branches tearing at her gown, briars clutching at her hem. Aaron moved with unerring speed, threading through half-forgotten deer tracks, half-visible paths that wound into the wild tangle. His breathing was harsh, but not strained. His infirmity had been no more than a costume discarded now that it no longer served.
She tried to reason with him as they stumbled through the undergrowth.
“Aaron, you can’t keep running! You have to talk to your brother. Reason with him. He does not want this contest to continue. He wants peace!”
“Peace?” Aaron’s laugh was low, bitter, “I will not lose to him again! I will not yield. I am the victor, Catherine. I always was! It will end as it should have long ago.”
Catherine’s chest heaved. Lies, always more lies. He was clinging to them like a drowning man to driftwood. And Meredith, did she know? Had she been another pawn in this deception, tending an infirmity that was but another mask?
She thought then of the two brothers’ father. The twisted contests he had devised, the poisonous creed he had taught them. Conceal your weakness, master your emotions, project strength, or be cast aside as a weakling.
It damaged them both. They wrap themselves in cloaks of deception, hiding their true natures because they fear exposing a weakness.
Was this what had warped them both?
One who concealed his past sins, the other who concealed his infirmity, each playing roles rather than living as themselves?
Behind them, Gideon’s voice rang out again, closer this time. Catherine screamed his name at the top of her lungs until Aaron clamped his free hand over her mouth. Hope surged and then faded as Aaron picked her up about the waist and sped on. He was too swift, too determined. He pulled her deeper into the wood until, at last, they broke into a clearing.
Before them stood an ancient mill, long abandoned, its sails broken and skeletal against the sky. The stream beside it was choked with silt, barely trickling, stagnant, and green with lilies and moss.
Aaron halted, but did not release her. His eyes burned as he turned to her.
“You must give him up. Gideon is violent and dangerous. He cannot change. He does not deserve you or the dukedom!”
Then, shockingly, he dropped to one knee, his hand still locked about hers.
“Marry me, Catherine!” His voice was strident with desperation. “I will give you what he never can. Let it be how it was always meant to be!”
She stared at him, stricken with disbelief. She saw fear in his eyes and understood the source. His brother.Gideon. Aaron did not love her as once he might have done—he was merely desperate to defeat his brother, caught up in their eternal conflict.
“No,” she whispered.
Then stronger.
“No, Aaron. You are a liar. To me, to Meredith. You have twisted and schemed just as Gideon once did. There is no difference between you.”
His jaw clenched, his eyes flashing with fury. Somewhere in the trees, branches cracked. Gideon was close. Aaron’s head snapped towards the sound, then, with sudden violence, he dragged her into the mill.
The air inside was damp, mouldering. The wooden stairs that spiralled upwards groaned at each step, threatening to give way. Yet he pulled her higher, his grip unrelenting, until they emerged into a narrow attic chamber at the top, open to the air where once a window had been. Below, the sails jutted like broken bones.
Aaron’s face in the dim light was almost feral.
“An honourable man,” he snarled, “would never risk the one he loves. Gideon will be forced to choose, fight for his dukedom, or let you fall. We shall see what kind of man he truly is!”
