Page 14 of Mine This Winter
She met Simon’s gaze as he repeated the words that had pierced her heart like barbed arrows. “I didn’t come back for you, Gwendolyn. I didn’t come back because I heard you’d made a new life for yourself.”
A new life!
“You thought I’d married?” He thought she spent her days loving another man, not standing on a deserted clifftop staring at a bleak sea.
He shrugged but seemed impatient to leave Mr Payne’s room. “It’s of no consequence now. You need to return to your bedchamber before we’re found together. I have urgent matters requiring my attention.”
He didn’t wait for a reply but peered around the jamb and checked the corridor was clear before beckoning her to follow.
They crept from their hiding place just like they had after every passionate clinch. This time, they weren’t grinning, touching, stealing one last kiss and promising to meet again tomorrow.
Uncertainty hung in the air.
“Good night.” He took his eyes off her to scan the shadowed walkway. “The evening has been …”
Magical?
Heartbreaking?
“Enlightening?” she offered.
“Yes. Enlightening.”
She didn’t throw herself into his arms but turned away and hurried along the corridor. With the first steps came the ache of separation, a feeling that grew in intensity but quickly turned to anger.
Oliver owed her an explanation.
An explanation that could not wait until morning.
She whirled around and retraced her steps, hesitance giving way to determined strides. Hurt firing her fury.
The door to Oliver’s chamber was closed, but the growl of irate voices inside confirmed he was not alone.
Despite rarely entering Oliver’s private domain, Gwen gathered her confidence and barged into the room.
In the soft glow of candlelight, she saw Simon kneeling beside Oliver in bed, one hand gripping her brother’s throat. Forced to ignore the sight of her brother’s bare chest, she closed the door and stepped forward.
Amid their tussle, neither man heard her approach.
“Get your damn hands off me,” Oliver croaked.
“You bastard! I loved her, and you damn well knew she loved me.” Simon gave Oliver a backhanded slap. “I’m going to drag you out of this blasted bed and beat you as honour demands.”
“I had no choice,” came her brother’s pathetic cry. “That witch bribed me to keep my mouth shut. Besides, Gwendolyn needs stability and security. You’re too damn wild for her.”
“Don’t tell me what I need, Oliver.”
Simon’s head shot in her direction. His eyes were a cold Arctic blue. “Go back to your room, Gwendolyn.”
“Don’t tell her what to do,” Oliver snapped.
“Be quiet, Oliver. It’s too late to play the concerned brother now.” She braced herself and stepped closer. “You may release him, Mr Garrick. Let him catch his breath. He’ll need all his strength to pull himself out of the quagmire.”
Oliver muttered an obscenity as Simon scrambled off the bed. “I knew you’d come to Westmore to cause trouble.” He rubbed his jaw and stabbed his finger at the armoire. “Gwendolyn, pass me a shirt and trousers.”
Gwen scowled. “You’ll not move from that bed until you’ve explained why you lied to Mr Garrick. More importantly, why you lied to me.”
Oliver fell back against the pillow, sighing like he had suppressed it for five years. “Mrs Samuel convinced us Garrick was only after your dowry. She said he’d behaved inappropriately and suggested she might be his mistress once you were married.”
