He had missed her so. “I did. But I knew you might not want to return. I was dreadful to you.”
“You were upset but would not say why. I thought it was pride—you are not used to physical weakness.”
“No excuse. You were right to leave.”
“You made it clear that you had changed your mind about us.”
“Elinor—” He paused. “My reasons had nothing to do with you, I swear. You were strong and went on with your life. I had hoped you would. I—thought it best for you.”
“You,” she said. “Youwere best for me. Nothing else mattered. Whatever bothered you, we would have faced it together.”
“That is what scared me. I did my utmost to send you away.”
“It worked—until today.”
A crack of thunder rolled in the distance. Gavin glanced out the window, seeing dark clouds scudding over the hills. “Elinor, I always cared. Always. I am sorry I did not make that clear. Later I wanted—but I heard you were engaged to be married.”
“For a time. I ended it. I loved another.”
That was unexpected. He moved gourds and turnips like chessmen, guarding his feelings. “Is it so? I wish you well.”
“Gavin. The other is you.”
His hands stilled. “Even after what happened?”
“I stayed away because you wanted it, not because I did. You said that day that you had to protect Braemore, and that did not include marrying me.”
“It did include you,” he said gruffly. “I wanted to protect Braemoreandyou.”
“I am confused.” Tears glimmered in her eyes.
His heart surged to see that. He needed to say what he should have said months ago. Regardless of any threat, real or imagined, she had come here to help, and deserved the truth. “I was a fool. I should have told you what troubled me.”
She dashed at a tear. “You could tell me now.”
“I will. Come here.” He lifted his arms. She gave a little cry and ran to him. Pulling her into his embrace, he held her. The world seemed to brighten despite storm clouds and the awful dread of the Braemore curse, the secret he had carried for months.
Thunder boomed again. She tucked her head against his shoulder and sighed. Tipping a finger under her chin, he lifted her face and kissed her gently. The kiss was slow, tentative, giving her the choice to pull back or ease into it. She leaned toward him, renewing the next kiss, and he responded as their bodies remembered their perfect fit. Then he drew away. “It is time you knew the whole of it.”
She nodded as another tear rolled down. She wiped at it. “I am a bit of a mess.”
“Not at all.” He ran his thumb over her cheek. “We will talk. But not here.”
“We should set these things out.” As she spoke, more thunder boomed, and plates on a shelf rattled. A dish slid free and smashed on the floor, pieces scattering.
“No storm did that,” Gavin muttered.
“Hurry!” Elinor took up carved pumpkins and set them on the wide windowsill, then pressed candles into the jack o’ lanterns. Lighting a reed at the kitchen hearth, Gavin flamed the little tapers. “The kitchen first, then we will go to the library and the rest of the house.”
She put set rowan branches in a pottery vase on the kitchen table with juniper, and gathered up the rest of the branches. Gavin grabbed the basket holding turnips, gourds, candles, and the rest, and left the room with Elinor.
Lightning cracked like a whip, brightness cutting the darkening sky.
Chapter Seven
“Parlor and diningroom are done,” Gavin said, entering the study. “I set branches over the doorways as you asked. What can we—here, let me do that!”
Dragging a chair toward the doorway, Elinor stopped as Gavin took it. He stepped up, stretched to set a rowan branch on the high lintel, and got down.
