Page 36 of Love Is A Draw
Victor caught up just as she reached the street’s end, “Gail?”
She turned to him, her face a heartbreak he could never unsee. Her crumpled expression, the redness of her eyes, the dirt streaking her cheeks. She wasn’t crying quiet tears, no soft sniffling, but she wept, openly, loudly, her breaths ragged and uneven as her chest heaved.
Victor’s heart twisted painfully. He had done this to her. He came closer, his boots crunching softly on the gravel beneath. “Gail,” he said again.
She shook her head violently, a sob tearing through her lips that left her trembling from the effort. “Don’t,” she choked out, her words trim and edged with steel. “Don’t come closer.”
He didn’t stop walking. “I need to help you. Please.”
“You can’t!” She spun to face him fully, her face a portrait of anger and anguish. She pressed her palms into his chest, shoving him sharply enough that he hesitated. “I have to go home.” Hervoice rose, each word a fresh fracture in her tone. Her knees buckled slightly, her hands dropping to her sides in surrender.
“Gail…” His voice fell, helpless and unsteady. What else could he say?
She didn’t answer. Her sobs grew louder, breaking in rhythm with her breaths. Her chin quivered, her chest shook, and then she was gasping, clutching at her belly, despair pouring out of her like a dam breached beyond repair. “We’re at least five miles from St.?James.” She blinked furiously. “How did we get so far away so fast?”
“As the crow flies,” Victor mumbled.
There’s only one winner here—her, he thought. If she regains her strength and wins the tournament, he’ll have to leave England. And if he wins… she’ll be forced to hold back to keep him.
He wasn’t leaving her alone. He’d caused this. He’d brought her here. “I’ll take you home.”
Victor reached for her, his fingers trembling, but the look she shot him rooted him in place. Her expression, raw and wrung out, spoke of pain he couldn’t touch, guilt he couldn’t fix. It knifed through him deeper than any word she could have said.
Gail shiveredas she pressed into the corner of the hackney, her soaked gown clinging to her, cold and impossibly heavy. She tried pulling the fabric away from her skin, but it was futile—the dampness bit through to her very bones. She rubbed her hands over her arms, wishing it would help. It didn’t. Her teeth chattered softly as the vehicle jolted, and her thoughts drowned out the steady rattle of wheels against cobblestones.
Victor sat across from her, his shoulders tense, his face half-lit by the flickering carriage lamp. She didn’t look at him for long. The air between them felt brittle—one word and it might crack wide open. All she could cling to was the driver’s earlier mutter: “It’ll take us some time.” By the crow’s flight—or the balloon’s lost course—she’d be home in no time, but on these roads it’d take longer.
Victor leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “I’m so sorry, Gail. I thought it would be safe. I thought it would be… impressive.”
“No.” Her arms tightened across her chest. “This is my fault.” Her realization came frayed and uneven, like a line stretched to breaking.
Victor’s head snapped up. “How? You didn’t convince yourself to get in that balloon. You didn’t set the envelope on fire, or—” His voice faltered. “Or nearly drown in the pond.” His jaw worked. “It’s my fault.”
She lifted her gaze. Her eyes were dry now, but not empty. “I agreed to it. Not just the balloon.” Her throat constricted, but she made herself go on. “Not just that.”
He waited.
Gail took a breath. “I misread the risk. I let the variable in.” A pause. Then, “You kissed me. And I let it matter.”
Victor blinked. “Matter?”
“I calculated the height of the balloon. The weather. The burn time. I planned the day. I didn’t plan for you.”
Silence held them still.
“I didn’t say I lost my life,” she added softly. “I said I lost.” Her tone held steady now. “I lost control of the game.”
Victor sat back, absorbing it. “So this was… strategy?”
“It was deviation.” Her lips twisted into something wry and self-directed. “And I failed to adjust.”
He studied her. “You think this was failure?”
“I let myself believe I could manage everything.” She exhaled, her tone turning rueful. “But then you…” She narrowed her eyes and her cheeks twitched as if she couldn’t make sense of a position on the chess board. “You used your own body as a shield. That wasn’t rational. That was…” She shook her head. “That wasn’t part of any scenario I accounted for.”
Victor leaned forward. “You told me once our position was stronger than we think.”
She stilled.
