“I'm an arrogant beast.” He tugged her into his arms again, hugging her. “I suspect she already knows that.”
She barked out a laugh that trembled with emotion. “You’ll get no argument from me on that front.”
A long silence followed. “I love her,” he said softly. He let her go, picked up the bottle of whiskey, and looked about for his glass. Then caught the reflection of the shards littering the hearth and set the bottle back down.
“What are you going to do?” she asked, breaking the silence.
He shoved a hand through his hair. “The only thing I can do. Go after her.” He looked over at this most precious of all his sisters. “What of Huntley? Are you all right? Do you wish to go accompany me?”
Her spine went whip-cord straight. “Certainly not. I know my duty. You were right when you said I was married now. I have no options at this juncture but to work things out with my husband. We are bound together. Besides, he… he needs me as much as you need Rebecca.”
Sebastian leaned in and kissed her forehead. “I’m so very proud of you.”
A wistful smile touched her face. “You’ve never said that before.”
“An egregious oversight on my part.” He stepped back. “I have to get to her.”
“You’d best hurry then. I believe she’s planning an extended excursion to Scotland.”
~~~
Rebecca paced the length of the parlor at Exford, her skin crawling with nerves that felt like pricked pins. Gabriela had grown up. Her friend no longer needed her. Whatever Gab’s issues with Huntley would soon be worked out between him. Her friend had never been so happy to see her husband. The reunion had leveled a stab of jealousy that had Rebecca quickly hugging her friend with a hurried goodbye. It left Rebecca feeling at loose ends and with the inability to justify marrying because of her feelings for Sebastian. Her vision of life with a man who—yes, liked her, but—didn’t love her was unbearable. The thought of living in such a situation suffocated her.
The fire in the hearth blazed hot as a desert sun, it stole the very oxygen in the chamber. She couldn’t breathe. She spun around, studying the old building that was her home. In places, it appeared ready to fall around their ears, while in other areas, was as sturdy as the Tower of London and would last forever. She took in the shabby but comfortable furnishings, rubbing her hands over her arms.
She barked out a bitter laugh that felt ridiculously close to tears. She was a stranger in her own home, nothing fit any longer. Had she changed so much?
She held out her arm and considered the harsh red slash that no respectable girl on the marriage mart would dare harbor. On Rebecca, it was just another scar to go with the many others on her twenty-five-year-old form, but one that would never be as deep as the one now etched in her heart where Ryleigh was concerned.
The Duke of Ryleigh needed someone more appropriate than her. He’d made that clear enough. Rebecca was not duchess material. A duchess could not kill a rabbit from thirty yards out, skin then could cook it over an open flame. Not one she’d built herself. A duchess did not sleep out in the open under the stars.
Their fate was sealed. The response to her note, relinquishing him from his honorable proposal, had been a politeThank you for your consideration of my current station in society. She should be gratified that he'd responded at all. Unfortunately, she was not given to smug self-righteousness. It just left her with the infuriating notion that she’d indeed proved so disposable, so replaceable. It solidified everything she’d believed of his feelings of her. Of everything men felt of women. If a woman expired, it was a matter of the man of the species plucking the next appropriate broodmare in line for duchess-hood. She wasnothingto him.
Her own skin felt raw. Why couldn’t she get the feel of his hands on her arms out of her mind? The taste of his kiss off her lips. The scent of his masculinity from assaulting her senses and out of her head, or the sound of his voice whispering against her neck in the depths of a rainy night.
The room grew more stifling and she burned with a need to feel the cold air against her. Anything to freeze away the memories. Each minute that ticked by, her restlessness grew more frantic and asphyxiating.
Serena should be almost finished with packing for their sojourn to Scotland. Rebecca paced to the window and back. Swiped the perspiration from her forehead. They would leave in the morning, she decided. She hadn’t yet informed Serena.
Rebecca hadn’t been able to force herself to suffer her maid’s long-winded discourse for Rebecca’s happily ever after. Even that thought choked breath from her. The Highlands were the perfect anecdote for Rebecca’s ailment. Painting pictures of the brilliantly hued grasses and icy lakes was no longer enough. Rebecca wanted to lose herself in the actual hills.
Such solid plans should have gifted her relief of freedom, not burdened her with the weight of a slab of iron bearing down on her chest.
She’d never be able to stand by and watch Sebastian marry one of the stolid debutantes who would fit his carefully crafted world so easily like a kid glove. Papa would understand her need to flee.
“My lady?”
She glanced over. Serena stood in the arch. “You wished to see me?”
“Yes.” She forced herself to breathe deeply. “We shall leave for Scotland in the morning at first light.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Yes, tomorrow. Whether the packing is completed or not. There will be no further delays.”
Her mouth gaped. “B-but…” she stammered.
It scraped over Rebecca. “Go! Even if it takes all night.”
