‘No, you don’t,’ he replies quietly, distrustfully.
I nod. ‘I do.’
He sinks slowly back into his chair, his eyes fixed on mine. And then he drops his head into his hands.
‘I can’t do this again. I can’t do it,’ he murmurs in a low, tormented voice.
‘Ash,’ I plead.
He lifts his head. ‘You broke my heart,’ he says seriously. ‘Again. Except this time it was intentional.’
‘Do you think I wanted to?’ I’m getting heated myself now. ‘Do you think I wasn’t broken too? I was shattered when I left you!’
‘Exactly! YOU left ME!’ he yells, springing to his feet and pacing again. ‘I wanted to come with you!’
‘How could you? You had responsibilities … Ties to the house—’
‘I sold the fucking house!’ he all but shouts over me. ‘Revoked my title, spat on five hundred years of history and I just—’ He stops speaking abruptly and looks so tired all of a sudden, so lost. ‘I just … I needed you and you weren’t there. And I’m not sure I can get over it.’
I want to go to him, but he turns and walks out the door without another word.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
After ten minutes, when Ash still hasn’t returned, I get up and take our plates and mugs to the sink, washing and drying them and looking around for where to put them away.
I remember that he got the mugs down from a shelf and see that there’s space for plates too. Are these the only plates and mugs he has? Everything is so organised; he has no more or less than he needs.
I use the facilities in his bathroom and when I come out again he’s standing in the middle of his living room, looking freaked out.
‘What’s wrong?’ I ask.
‘Nothing.’ He shakes his head before admitting, ‘I thought you’d gone.’
‘Where didyougo?’ I ask.
‘Nowhere. I just needed some air.’
Suddenly the heavens open. I look up at the ceiling as rain pounds down.
‘Oh shit, I need to get my bag,’ I remember. I left it by the river.
Ash holds out his hand to stop me from passing him and nods at the table.
My bag is sitting there, and in front of the fire I find my trainers. They’re a whole lot cleaner than they were before.
‘It was the best I could do,’ he says.
‘Thank you.’ I’m touched. ‘I hope you’re not drying them so you can send me on my way again.’
He huffs. I’m not sure you could call it a laugh.
‘Can I hang my clothes up somewhere?’
‘Use the towel rail in the bathroom. They’ll dry soon enough.’
There’s an edginess behind my ribcage, a ghost of the giddiness that’s returning as I go to the bathroom. I’m here, with Ash, and he has no ties to a house or a title that I couldn’t bear to burden children with.Andhe’s single. I think.
‘You don’t have a girlfriend, do you?’ I ask cautiously as I come out of the bathroom.
