Lucy had brought that guttering spark to life again. He didn’t know why it had been her, or even how she’d done it. His own family had been trying to drag him back to life for months now, without any success. But then that was the way of things sometimes, wasn’t it? Sometimes a stranger could offer you something more than the family you loved ever could.
Or maybe that wasn’t it at all. Maybe it was justher. Maybe it was just that it was impossible for a man to stay numb and frozen when he stood so close to a burning flame. She’d jarred him from his stupor, dragged him kicking and screaming back into the world of the living.
She was the best friend he’d ever had.
He couldn’t explain how Lucy had come to mean so much to him in so short a time. He didn’t even try to. It didn’t matter why. What mattered was he’d been letting the tide toss him from one wave to the next for months now, as if he were helpless to choose his own direction.
He wasn’t helpless. That was a lie. A lie he might still believe, if it weren’t for Lucy.
And so, this morning when she laid a hand gently on his arm and asked, “What is it you want most, Ciaran?” he wanted to tell her. He just had to find the words.
When he didn’t answer right away, Lucy’s fingers tightened on his sleeve. “Whatever it is, all the drinking and wagering and debauchery in the world won’t take its place. If you don’t want to be in Brighton, or in Buckinghamshire, or in London, then where do you want to be?”
Ciaran swallowed. It had taken him so long to admit the truth to himself the words felt awkward leaving his lips. “Scotland. I want to go back to northern Scotland, to the village where I was raised, and see if there’s anything left for me there.”
As soon as he said it aloud, something gave way inside him. The tightness under his breastbone loosened with the words, and God, it felt good, that hesitant swell of hope that took its place.
His brothers wouldn’t like it. Lachlan in particular had insisted they leave Scotland behind after their mother died, part of a past that was better forgotten. That they leave behind all the ugliness and betrayal of their final few months there.
But when Lachlan left their home—the only home they’d ever known—he hadn’t left the woman he loved behind.
Ciaran had.
Dark-haired, blue-eyed Isobel, the lady he’d loved for as long as he’d been old enough to understand what love was. The lady he’d always thought he’d make his wife someday.
The lady who’d betrayed him.
Even now, so many months later, he still couldn’t believe she’d turned her back on him. Isobel had been his friend as well as his love. He’d trusted her. She’d been the first person he’d gone to after James Baird’s untimely death. When all their friends had been cursing Lachlan as a murderer and Isla as a whore, Ciaran had turned to Isobel for solace.
He’d never dreamed she’d abandon him.
But that was what had happened. He’d been stunned, heartbroken, and at an utter loss to understandwhy. Had she truly believed Lachlan was a murderer? Or had it simply been easier for her to condemn his family, just as all their other friends were? Had it been a moment of fear and weakness, or had she always been weak, and he’d been too blinded by love to see her for who she truly was?
He had to return to Scotland. Nothing would ever be right for him until he did. He needed to see Isobel again, and find out why she’d left him when he needed her most. To hear, from her lips, whether there was any hope left for them. Otherwise he’d keep thrashing helplessly in the water, drowning in a sea of bitterness, confusion, and regret.
How could he ever trust again while memories of the promises Isobel had made to him still haunted him? Promises she’d broken…
Lachlan had a wife now, one he loved with all his heart. He had a life here with Hyacinth. He’d come to England, and all his dreams had come true. The same was true of their sister Isla, who’d found her own love in the Marquess of Pierce, who doted on her and made her blissfully happy.
Only Ciaran had been left adrift. He’d never been able to turn his back on Scotland as his siblings had. He hadn’t been able to forget the past. Until he did—until he either forgot it or embraced it—he didn’t have any chance at a future.
Lucy was right. He was wasting his time here.
Her cold hand slid into his palm. “Then you should go. If that’s what will make you happy, Ciaran, you should do it.”
Her voice was so quiet the wind tried to snatch it up and drown it in the waves, but Ciaran heard her. Without thinking, he laced their fingers together, squeezing gently to warm her. Her slim, elegant bones shifted slightly under his grip, and all at once a rush of gratitude rolled over him, so powerful it robbed him of his breath.
He wanted to thank her. To tell her he’d leave Brighton a different man than he’d been when he arrived, and she was the reason why. Impulsively, he lifted her hand to his lips and brushed a soft kiss across her knuckles.
Lucy sucked in a shaky breath, and gently drew her hand away. She was quiet for some time. When she did speak again, her voice was unnaturally bright. “Well, then. You’re for Scotland, and I’m for London for the rest of the season. I expect to be half-smothered with rules and restrictions once I’m there.”
“You will be. I spent last season in London, for my sister’s debut. Thankfully she’s married now and I’m not obliged to go back.” Though it hadn’t been so awful, really, his one London season. He’d kept himself entertained well enough. But young, eligible gentlemen were in great demand, particularly those who were brother to the Marquess of Huntington. It was far more difficult for young ladies to navigate the season.
Ciaran frowned. He couldn’t picture Lucy in London.
She didn’t seem to be able to, either, because she let out a forlorn little sigh. “No prize-fights or brawls. No swimming. I confess I don’t fancy it, but I would like to see my cousin safely married. I suppose I’ll have to go everywhere with her, won’t I? It’s bound to be a trial. I don’t even know how to dance properly.”
“Come to the ball at the New Assembly Rooms tonight, and I’ll teach you.” Ciaran brightened at the thought. It wasn’t much, but it was something he could do for her.
