“Please,” she wept softly. “I do not want to know what it said. Please do not tell me.”
He knew she did not mean it; she was simply refusing the pain that she believed such a missive would bring. Guy put his hand on her shoulder comfortingly.
“I must tell you,” he said quietly. “You must be strong and listen to every word. Please, Sheridan. It is important.”
She looked at him, sobbing fearfully. Although she had wanted proof of his death, still, the reality of it was difficult to bear. But she eventually nodded and he continued.
“The reason that no one was able to discover anything about Sean is because the Marshall had him taken to RossingtonHouse in north London,” he said gently. “When the Marshall went on to fight the baron’s wars, there was no way to know that Sean had ended up at Rossington. Only two people knew of his location; William and Gilby. The missive I received was from Gilby.”
“Gilby?” She was sobbing into her hand. “What… what did he say?”
Guy stroked her head gently, trying to keep her calm. “He sent it to Abergavenny because he thought you would be there, with me,” he told her gently. “You did, after all, promise Sean that you would marry me. He naturally assumed you would be there.”
“Tell me what it said.”
Guy sighed faintly. “It said that Sean survived his trip from the Tower to Rossington. God knows how, but he survived. Gilby did not expect him to live after that. He said that he waited daily for Sean to die.”
Sheridan was sobbing so hard that she was almost incoherent. Guy shook her gently, forcing her to look at him. When he saw how distraught she was, he took her kerchief and dipped it in the lake, gently swabbing her cheeks so that she would calm. He did not know what else to do.
“Why…,” she gasped. “Why did you go to London?”
“Because Sean was in London.”
Sheridan was growing faint with grief. But she struggled through it, knowing it would do no good to weep for her husband dead these long months. Perhaps she really had known all along that he had perished but had refused to accept it. The confirmation was hard to face.
“Did… did you see him?” she whispered.
“I brought him with me.”
She yelped, looking at Guy with such horror that the man put his hands on her to still her. Sheridan struggled to stand up.
“I must go to him,” she sounded extremely unsteady. “I must go to him right away. Where is he?”
Guy was struggling to calm her, letting out a piercing whistled as he did so. It was evident that he was calling for someone, perhaps assistance for the hysterical lady. She was veering out of control and he needed help.
“Sheridan, you must calm yourself,” he pleaded. “You do not need to go to him. He will come to you. But I wanted to prepare you.”
“Prepare me forwhat?”
Guy blinked, realizing she did not understand. It was the most obvious thing in the world as he had explained it; or, at least, he thought so. But given her reaction, he realized that he had not been clear. Before he had a chance to clarify, a massive silhouette appeared on the crest of the hill above the lake. The sun was at such an angle that it was difficult to make out any features, but the size alone was explanation enough.
Sheridan caught a glimpse of the figure in her peripheral vision, turning when she realized someone was approaching. She inspected the body, watched the familiar gait, and an odd feeling swept her. She suddenly felt as if she was in a dream, for surely, things like this only happened in dreams. There was no other explanation. She began to feel faint as she realized that she was gazing at her husband.
As if by a miracle, her hysteria vanished. She stared at Sean as he walked towards her; there was no mistaking his proud stance or the soft expression on his face. He looked like he did when they had first met; dressed in a soft blue tunic, leather breeches and boots, he was more handsome than she had remembered. As she continued to stare at him, she noticed that he had lost some of his bulk. It was Sean, only leaner. Somehow, someway, the man had survived.
It was too much to take. With a whimper, she fell back in her chair. Guy tried to support her, looking at her astonished face and hoping she wasn’t about to have a spell.
“He survived, Sheridan,” he said gently. “Sean was in London with Gilby. He thought you would be at Abergavenny with me, which is why Gilby sent the missive there. The missive asked for me to bring you to London, yet I knew that I could not. Not with the baby. So I went to retrieve Sean to bring him back to you.”
By this time, Sean was nearly upon them. Sheridan hardly heard any of Guy’s words; she was focused on her husband’s smiling face. Guy backed away as Sean knelt timidly beside his wife, his expression one of utter tenderness as he beheld her face for the first time in ages. For a small eternity, they simply stared at each other. Sheridan remained frozen until Sean finally spoke to Guy.
“You were supposed to prepare her, de Braose,” he said. “I see that you did not do an adequate job. She thinks I am a ghost.”
The sound of his voice was all Sheridan needed to snap her out of her trance; she suddenly threw her arms around his neck, squeezing him so hard that she threatened to strangle him. Sean laughed softly and enveloped her in his massive arms, feeling her life and softness. It was better than he had remembered; words could not adequately describe the elation of the moment. It was enough to bring tears to his eyes.
“Sweet Jesus,” he muttered, his hands in her hair. “Are you all right, sweetling? Say something.”
Sheridan was literally speechless. She refused to let go even when he tried to pull her away from him so he could get a good look at her.
