“I have made a serious misjudgment,” Father Ling said quietly, surveying Simon over the cup he held to his lips. He took a sip before continuing. “I feared that neither you nor Queen Isabella would be happy as half a person, nor would you be content with only half of your mate. What I did not see at the time is that both of you are only whole when you are together.”
Simon’s mind raced to comprehend the cryptic statement. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“Isabella sent you away because she thought it the right thing to do. At the time so did I.” Regret filtered over his features. “I underestimated the depth of your love for one another.”
“She does not love me,” Simon said flatly. “I appreciate what you are trying to do, Father Ling, but Isabella made her feelings very clear to me before I took my leave.”
Father Ling’s face softened. “Ahh but she does, my son. Does the sun not rise in the east and set in the west? So too is her love as constant.” He looked down at his cup. “She is as unhappy as you are. I traveled here because I see two dying souls. Two halves of a whole that can only live if they are together.”
A buzz began in Simon’s ears and became louder as he sought to contain the overwhelming flood of pain that rushed over him all over again. Try as he might, he had been unable to put Isabella from his mind in the last six months. No matter that he told himself she didn’t love him. That she had used him and discarded him like yesterday’s rubbish. If he closed his eyes, he could still smell her soft feminine scent, a mixture of jasmine and inner strength. Could feel her touch, the satiny smoothness of her skin, the silken waves of her hair.
He shook his head and eyed Father Ling, careful to keep a check on his emotions. “All she had to do was say the word and I would have never left her side.”
Father Ling set aside his cup and leaned forward, his usual calm replaced by agitation. “She died that day. She became a shell of her former self. She sent you away, lied about her love so that you would not be forced to choose between her and everything that made you the man you are.”
Simon’s face twisted as his incredulity grew. “Are you saying that she lied to me in order tomakeme leave?”
“Tell me, Lord Merrick. If she had professed her love for you that day, would you have left her?”
“I would have come back, of course,” he said hotly. He began pacing in front of the chair where Father Ling sat, his anger rising by the minute. “She should have hadfaithin me, damn it. Let me make my own decision. Instead she made us both damn miserable.”
“Aye, she did,” Father Ling admitted. “I fear I am partly at fault for giving her guidance when I shouldn’t have.”
The monk’s expression was bleak, and Simon felt a twinge of sympathy for his plight.
“I am sure you did as you thought best at the time.”
“Good intentions are not any solace when the result is pain,” the monk said wryly.
“How is she?” Simon asked softly. He needed to know anything about her, to be able to reach across the miles and feel as though he was near.
“She is a strong woman. But she grieves for you,” Father Ling said quietly. “Our country has already prospered under her leadership, but she is unhappy.”
Simon blew out his breath. “I appreciate you coming all this way to tell me these things, but I am unsure ofwhyyou came. If she truly wanted…me.” He stumbled over the words. “If she wanted me, would she not come herself? Send a personal letter? Does she even know you are here?”
The monk smiled sadly. “She still feels she did the right thing, and even though her sorrow grows with each passing day, she refuses to place her own desires ahead of what she feels is best for you and your country.”
“Then what do you want from me?” Simon asked.
“It is up to you to make her see she was wrong,” he said simply. “You will have such an opportunity sooner than you think. It is up to you to seize the chance. I merely wanted to give you the motivation to do so.”
Simon gritted his teeth. “Oh no, you don’t. Not this cryptic prophesy again. You cannot come all this way to dangle a carrot in front of my nose only to snatch it away at the last possible second.”
The monk smiled. “Patience is a virtue, my son. And it is rewarded. Think on the things I have told you so that you may make the proper decision when the time comes.”
He rose and walked forward to clasp Simon’s hands. “Go with God, and may you lead a long prosperous life no matter the path you choose.” He paused and stared piercingly into Simon’s eyes. “I hope that our paths cross again. Soon.”
His eyes twinkled as he let his hands slide from Simon’s. “I will take my leave now.”
“Wait,” Simon called as the monk started to walk from the room. “The hour is late. May I, at least, offer you a place to rest for the night?”
Father Ling stopped and turned to face Simon. “You are generous, my lord, but I find I am quite enjoying your fair country. There are many interesting sights to behold as I travel. I will seek my rest beneath the stars this night.”
Simon shook his head as the monk disappeared in a swirl of robes. The man was enough to inspire violence.
He sagged into his chair and rubbed his hands over his face. There was no hope for him to sleep now. Thoughts of Isabella consumed him. He ached for her. He needed her. She was the only person who could complete him. And yet…
Had she really sent him away to prevent him from having to choose between his country and the woman he loved? A curl of anger stirred to life within him. How could she not have trusted him enough to allow him to decide for himself?
