His smile grew wider, softer for just a moment. “You care if I exist or not?”
“Yes.”
“Why would you?”
Held captive by his compelling gaze, she could do nothing but search the fathomless depths of his eyes. What was she searching for? Why did she care if he existed? “I know the truth about your death, Lord Harwich.”
He turned away as he spoke. “Oh? And what’s the truth?”
“Lady Eleanor pushed you over the edge of the wall to your watery death.” She let her gaze rove over the water droplets in his hair, on his skin. “Over the years of studying Graven, I heard terrible things, one of them being that she pushed you. But I never believed it.”
“Then you’re a fool,” he ground out.
She wanted to tell him the truth about who she was. Didn’t he deserve that much? He was going to be angry. He might frighten away all the rest of the men. But the whole thing was mad. Why should she live in the madness alone? Maybe telling him the truth, no matter how bad it was, would help him trust her. Although, looking into the cold gaze of his murderess wife probably destroyed any ounce of trust he had.
“Eleanor Montgomery is my distant grandmother.”
Chapter Five
He’d waited sixhundred years for his revenge. Six hundred. He shook his head in disgust with himself as he reappeared on the battlements. She was Eleanor’s granddaughter. This was his chance. He could get her to sit on the wall and then muster every ounce of his strength to heave her over. But—
“You’re very predictable, Lord Harwich.”
He ground his teeth but didn’t turn to her. For the first time in a half-dozen centuries, he couldn’t hide. He didn’t know how he felt about it. “Why do you constantly search me out?” He raised his somber gaze to hers. “I will never be yours.”
She paused her steps and stared at him, then asked with a quick succession of blinks. “What?” Fire engulfed her cheeks. “Why do you assume I want you? I sought you because once again, you pulled the truth out of me, only to run off!”
“Run off?”
“Disappear. Whatever. You leave.”
“Montgomery, I ask you again, why do you care?”
“Don’t call me Montgomery.” Now, she glanced away from him with her chin to her chest.
“Why not?” he asked, moving closer to her ear. “Does it shame you?”As it should,he wanted to add, but didn’t.
“I’ve always been afraid to even entertain that she may have been guilty and she got away with it.”
“Why were you afraid to entertain it?”
She took a step back. She intrigued him, tempted him to smile instead of plan his revenge.
She’s Eleanor’s granddaughter,he reminded himself.
“Because she was a true monster. It means I have a monster’s blood in me. And I believe it because my mother was a monster too.”
Oliver noted the mournful catch in her voice and inched closer. Were those tears gathering at the rims of her russet lashes? What did she mean her mother was a monster?
“Now I understand why you disappear. I wish I could do it right now.”
“I can understand you being ashamed of your family name,” he told her. “But why do you want to hide your tears from me?”
She glared at him through glistening eyes. He wanted to step closer and wipe her tears as they fell.
“Maybe I just want to be alone.”
He ground his jaw, frustrated that he didn’t understand women and angry with himself for not wanting to go. He’d caused her melancholy by bringing to light the terrible truth. A truth she hated. Her mother was a monster. He didn’t want to leave her alone.
