A pang pierced her chest, but she brushed the ache aside.
Then something shifted in his eyes. He blew out a long breath and scrubbed his hand down his face. Then his gaze lifted to hers again, his brows tenting with sorrow. “I suppose I understand why you distrust me. Why you think the worst. I really don’t mean harm to your people. I’d like to see Laurent only because I’ve heard so much about it, but that’s not why I want to take you there.” He paused long enough for his throat to work in a swallow, then he seemed to be pushing himself forward.
“I have a sister—hada sister.” Pain deepened the creases around his eyes. “Michelle. My twin. Definitely my better half. She was good—so good—and I think she was the only one who ever thought I could be that way, too. She was alwayspushing me to be better. To help others, even when it would be so much easier to mind my own concerns. So many times I ignored what Michelle asked of me.” His gaze turned to stare out the opening ahead of them. “I wish I hadn’t.” His voice cracked on those words, but he pressed on. “I wish I hadn’t been the one to put that disappointment in the eyes of the only person who truly loved me. Who cared enough to believe I could be better.”
Silence rang between them, a quiet so laden with pain her chest ached. She wanted to reach out and close the distance between them, lay her hand on his arm. But he seemed so lost in grief. And who was she to console him anyway? She’d accused him of the very worst only moments before.
He turned to face her. Red rimmed his eyes, but determination laced them, too. “I won’t make that mistake again. I may not have Michelle here to tell me what to do, but her voice lives inside me.” He thumped a fist on his chest. “I knew from the moment I saw you slumped in the snow, especially when I realized you were a woman, what Michelle would have wanted. I intend to see you to safety, no matter what it takes.” His chin lifted with that last bit, his gaze flaring with defiance.
He eyed her, as though daring her to refuse him. That, of course, made her own hackles rise, but she pressed them back down. Just because the man seemed to know exactly how to draw out her stronger emotions didn’t mean she had to let them overcome her good sense.
Before they discussed anything further about their destination or him protecting her, though, she needed to give voice to his grief. “Your sister sounds like a wonderful woman. I’m sure she would be proud of you.”
He looked toward the opening, tipping his face so she couldn’t see his expression. But she didn’t miss the way his throat worked. The way he seemed to struggle to rein in emotion. His grief was still so raw.
At last, he nodded, though he still didn’t glance her way. “Michelle was the best. The kindest person I ever knew. The strongest. She was always my best friend, and when our parents died, she proclaimed herself my mother also.” A sad chuckle lifted his chest. “She cut Mum’s aprons to fit herself and would scurry around the kitchen. I told her she didn’t have to work so hard. That we would take care of each other. She said I needed her, and she was doing exactly what she was supposed to do.” His mouth pressed into a thin line before he continued. “She was right, I did need her. Every day since then...” He cut off his words, but she didn’t have to guess what he would have said.
“How long has she been gone?”
What little of his expression she could see twisted with pain, even as he turned fully away. “One year. Today.” He surged to his feet, keeping his head ducked under the overhang until he strode out into the bright light beyond.
The jumble of emotions he left behind made her want to stand and pace, too. How could a man be so broken—yet so good and trustworthy? Even after a year, his love for his sister came through with aching clarity. And if that love was what drove him to lie to her, could she be angry with him?Shouldshe?
The chaos inside wouldn’t allow her to think clearly. And she couldn’t deny how the tender way he spoke of his sister made her yearn for her own family.
Perhaps returning to Laurent wouldn’t be such a bad fate.
16
Damien had to get away from this smothering weight. The grief, the longing to sit across the table from Michelle once more—they were awful enough. But the fact that he’d not remembered today’s anniversary . . . How could he have forgotten this day he’d been dreading for so long? He’d planned to immerse himself in memories of Michelle, to honor her. And yes, to allow himself to succumb to the grief, just for today.
But with his exhausting and desperate search for Charlotte, the anniversary date hadn’t crashed over him upon awakening. He’d not actually slept through the night, so there’d been no first opening of his eyelids. He’d not had the time or energy to think about anything other than following Charlotte’s tracks.
How could he have betrayed Michelle so easily?
He stomped up the mountain, pushing himself hard. Harder. Farther from the weight. He hated himself. Hated everything.
Everything that had stripped away the one good thing in his life.
He didn’t regret speaking of his sister to Charlotte, though she was the first he’d been able to bring himself to tell. It seemed right to honor Michelle that way. And he’d needed Charlotte to understand his motives.
But this wrenching pain inside him ... He had to get away from it or its pressure would smother him completely. As much as he wanted to drop to his knees and succumb, he forced himself onward. Upward. Climbing higher. Pushing himself farther.
When he reached the peak, he could go no higher, so he stumbled over the crest and started down. His vision blurred, but he ignored the tears. He could allow no weakness to stop him.
After half sliding down an icy rock, his feet found purchase in snow. On his next step, his foot glanced off something sharp hiding beneath the surface. He stumbled sideways, then caught himself on his hands and knees. Every shred of common sense told him to stop. He would break something, or worse, if he continued at this reckless pace.
But hewantedthe worst. He’d found nothing in this life worth staying alive for, not with Michelle gone.
Charlotte.
He’d thought ... But she would probably be better off without him, too. She wanted to do this on her own, to reach Fort Versailles. Who was he to determine what was best for her? He’d certainly never been able to protect Michelle, especially at the end.
He should let Charlotte do what she thought best. His interfering would only make things worse for her. Experience should have reminded him of that long before now.
His foot slipped on another icy rock, twisting him sidewaysas he scrambled for purchase. His gloved hands grabbed hold of a thick chunk of icy snow, and he gripped tight, holding himself there for long moments as he caught his breath.
The tumble, the deep inhales of frigid air, they worked to clear his mind of the turmoil. He closed his eyes, breathing in one cleansing breath after another. As much as he didn’t want to go on, he had a very important reason to pull himself together and climb back over that mountain summit.
