He pressed the requested refill in her hand and together they sat down on the settee. He noticed that she took a bit more time sipping from her glass. However, it was the faraway look in her eyes that hit him hardest.
“Why did you not come to me, Aislynn?” he wondered aloud. “Do you feel you cannot trust me?”
“No. It is nothing like that.” She exhaled heavily. “I did not want to add to your personal burdens.”
He frowned lightly. “My only concern is for you. That is all that matters to me.”
He had been staring at the floor, holding his glass in one hand, but he glanced up when she reached out and grasped his free hand. “I am more concerned about you, Cordell.” Tears shone in her gaze. “Tonight was nothing more than the deranged musings of a cold-blooded killer. The idea that you could be anything like him tears me apart inside.”
Cordell could feel himself tense. “Madness runs in my blood. I told you that my maternal uncle suffers from melancholy but it is nothing compared to what my father did all those years ago. I cannot escape that tainted heritage.”
“You do not have to.”
He tilted his head to the side in confusion.
She got to her feet and set her glass aside. “Come with me.” She pulled on his arm and he had no choice but to set down his drink and follow her lead. She led the way out of the study and up the stairs to the second flood landing. His heart was pounding, wondering if she was going to take him to her chamber. Instead, his stomach plummeted when he realized she had stopped at his door. “Open it.”
His first instinct was to refuse, to shut her out of the horrific nightmare of his existence. Still, he found himself reaching for the key in his vest pocket, always kept close at hand. He tried to keep his hands from shaking visibly as he inserted the key into the lock and turned it. Following the click, he grabbed hold of the knob and hesitated before he made his wrist give a slight turn.
Aislynn was not sure how to prepare herself for what lay beyond Cordell’s private domain. The muted, dark tones were not unexpected, as they gave the interior a masculine appearance. There was a wardrobe, washstand, and dressing table, but that was where any similarities ended to any other bedchamber. There were restraints that hung all around the bed. Rope and various implements of confinement—leather straps with buckles and padded muffs—were present on the sides of the coverlet and around the four posts of the massive bed. A pristine, white straitjacket was folded neatly on the bedside table, as if lying in wait until the day it would be used, rather than if it might be needed.
“You actually sleep in here?” Aislynn whispered.
“I do.”
“Why?”
He moved forward and lifted his hand and touched one of the posts. “To remind me of what awaits me in the future.”
Aislynn didn’t like the sound of that. “You speak as if it is a certainty.”
“I feel that it is. Some of the best physicians have claimed the very same.” He slowly turned to face her. “There are too many variables against me to ignore the truth.”
She shook her head. “No. I do not believe that.”
“You may not want to accept it but as you can see, I have already prepared for the eventuality. At least I have made preparations to be here than at an asylum where some of the treatments are too inhumane. I have questioned the use of ice baths, denied food, and other methods of stricture but my concerns are generally ignored in favor of a physician’s ruling. They believe such methods are effective in treating the illness, but I cannot find I agree. In my observations, it seems to make the patients worse, more agitated.” He reached out and touched one of the cuffs. “I have decided that I shall be better off served here where my personal physician can oversee my care. We have a long-standing relationship. He treated me when I had my first episode and recovered my facilities at my uncle’s house. I trust in his judgement.”
Aislynn was feeling sick. “All of this is not you. I do not understand why you cannot accept that just because your father had problems that he could not overcome, that you might be the same. You would deny yourself a life of happiness and contentment by worrying when you might error again. But you do not seem to realize the great possibility that all of this is for nothing.” She waved a hand to encompass the room.
He offered her a slight smile. “I understand if you cannot accept my future, but I was told by my physician that the odds are not favorable.” He reached out and cupped her cheek with his palm. “I wanted to spare you this horror if I could. But at least now you know why I held myself back from any other woman before now.” He shook his head slowly. “But with you, I cannot seem to control myself. Sometimes I wonder if the madness is already descending upon me.”
“I do not believe it is madness,” she countered. Covering his hand with hers, she leaned into the embrace. “I understand that love can feel like a version of madness but that does not mean anyone is undeserving of it.”
“Love.” He gave a light snort. “Do you think that is all that ails me when it comes to you?”
She offered a soft smile. “I cannot say what you feel in your heart. All I can say for sure is that the man I met tonight is the one who is mad and you are nothing like him.”
Stepping back slightly, Cordell reached into his jacket pocket to withdraw the killer’s mask. He held it up as if trying to look beyond the disguise to uncover the true culprit. “Are you quite sure about that, Aislynn?” He turned the face around so that she could get another good look at the terrifying image that had taunted her. “I see a rather close similarity. Like the murderer, we are both trying to hide our true nature.”
She refused to accept that. “The man who spoke to me this evening was talking about how he would like to slice my gullet in half and consume my innards.” She had to swallow the bile that threatened to rise in her throat at the gruesome image his words had created. “You are nothing alike.”
She saw Cordell’s grip tighten on the mask. “I am not so certain. I feel as though I could murder him with my bare hands.” He tossed the garment aside and put his hands on her shoulders. “I am sorry I was not there in enough time.”
“It is not your fault. I did not give you the chance to enact the hero.”
She could see his lips twitch and although he was doing his best to be serious, a smile threatened, nonetheless. “I suppose you have a point.” His expression sobered. “Please do not exclude me if you are facing trouble again.”
“I promise,” she whispered.
