Page 17 of Devil at the Gates
How strange that she would find refuge with a man whom so many others feared. Perhaps he was less of a devil than they believed—at least, that’s what she hoped.
6
Redmond strode out the front of Frostmore and whistled sharply. Devil bounded into view and joined him outside as a groom brought his horse forward. The white Arabian mare, Winter’s Frost, was his favorite. Many men favored stallions or geldings, but not Redmond. He had purchased her after burying his wife and brother, and her gentle spirit and exceptional speed were a balm to his soul. He rode her for miles, especially when the weather was fair, and it helped him feel like he was escaping his sorrows, if only for a little while.
As he mounted her and rode out across the lands of his home, he watched the fall leaves turn from gold to brittle brown, a sure sign that winter was on the way. The promise of snow was carried upon the wind, its bite bringing Redmond’s thoughts more clearly into focus. Had he really asked Harriet to stay through the spring?
In truth, he admitted he wanted her to. She was rash, bold, and uncompromising, but she wasn’t like the other women who had come to him. The ones who came to tempt him into offering marriage. Marriage was far from Harriet’s thoughts. It was her mother she was grieving for, a loss deep enough that it rattled the cage he had placed around his own heart.
Her tears today had tugged at him, beckoning him closer to her. Perhaps because her grief was genuine, as his own had been seven years ago. To lose a wife and brother had emptied his heart of feelings and left him in a dark, cold abyss. Seeing Harriet face that same dark pain as she realized her mother was likely gone, and that she’d not been there to help her…
He felt a sudden chill inside. How long had it been since he’d felt something, truly felt something? All it had taken was a hellion to attack him with a blade and then weep over her mother’s death, and all of his own pain, which he’d thought long buried, had come flooding back.
A desperate desire to see the cliffs drove him in their direction. When he finally pulled back on his mare’s reins, he was but twenty feet away from the edge where he had tried to end his own life seven years ago. He always rode this close—the cliffs called to him, asking him to take the leap he had promised back then. But he didn’t dismount, didn’t do anything but stare out at the wintry sea beyond the edge.
Heavy clouds rolled in, and whitecaps topped the waves. The pull toward the edge faded. Instead, he felt an invisible thread tied to Frostmore Hall, and a glimmer of hope seemed to fill it with a pulsing energy, like a guiding light on the shore. Devil barked suddenly and began to jump, though there was nothing around to be seen. Redmond’s mare danced back and forth uneasily.
“Quiet, Devil,” Redmond commanded.
The dog barked at thin air for a few seconds longer and then stopped. Just then, Redmond swore he saw something out of the corner of his eye. Something that made no sense, something that wasn’t possible. He had seen Thomas. And just as quickly, that sense of someone being there on the cliffs with him was gone. Devil became docile again, and the horse steadied herself.
Redmond dug his heels into her flanks and rode back to the manor house. The turreted structure stood proud beneath the overcast skies as sunlight surrendered to the approaching winter storm. The gates stood open, and he raced past them to the front door. A groom met him to collect the horse’s reins. Devil darted up ahead of Redmond and into the house.
As Redmond jogged up the stone steps and entered his home, a flash of soft crème and green caught his eye. He froze as he watched her stunning gown illuminate her gold hair and paint her like a nymph who had escaped the woods she had been born into.
He’d once believed Millicent should have worn that dress, but now he was glad she never had. He could imagine no other woman but Harriet would do it justice. He wanted to run up the stairs, catch her waist, and bury his face in her neck, covering her throat with kisses before he stole her lips and…
What is happening to me? He was losing his mind, that was what. His attraction to this woman was overpowering. Perhaps he’d simply been alone for too long? Or maybe it was something more, something that scared him because he couldn’t open his heart again.
“Your Grace.” She came toward him with tentative steps, the slight train of her gown whispering over the stones of the hall.
“Miss Russell.” He gazed upon her with longing.
“I would like to stay through the spring, if you still wish to extend the invitation.” She drew her bottom lip between her teeth in a show of nerves, and he was powerless to resist her. She could have demanded a thousand stars and he would have tried to give them to her.
“Yes, that would be very good. I’ll have Grindle ask the cook to serve supper in an hour, if you wish?”
“Thank you.” She paused. “I should speak to Mrs. Breland about moving to a new bedchamber. I am feeling better, and you should have your chambers returned to you.” Her cheeks blossomed with a tender blush that quickened his heart. There was an innocence to her, one that he suspected would always remain within her. Yet she wasn’t naïve or silly like others he had met. She had seen pain, felt loss, had her heart hurt by both, yet she hadn’t given over to anger, hate, or cloying despair as he had. Redmond envied her that strength of character.
“Very well. Tell Mrs. Breland I recommend the Pearl Room.”
Something akin to hope flashed in Harriet’s eyes. “Would you show me the way? I believe Mrs. Breland is speaking to the kitchen staff right now, and I would hate to disturb her. If you don’t mind, that is.”
Strangely, he didn’t. His instincts should have been to run from her and from this entire situation, but instead he nodded and held out his arm to her. She tucked her arm in his, and they ascended the stairs together. He remembered escorting Millicent up like this, both of them still in their wedding clothes. He had been so elated, so overjoyed to have a wife, to have someone to belong to him. Yet there had been a tightness around Millicent’s eyes and a hint of worry that had darkened her brow. He’d mistaken it for a bride’s wedding nerves. How foolish he’d been not to see her anxiety for what it was, not to see that she loved his brother.
“What’s the matter, Your Grace?” Harriet’s question forced him out of his thoughts. He looked down at her, frowning slightly.
“I beg your pardon. I was lost in thought.” He was not about to admit that he was thinking of another woman, or the mistakes he had made.
“Oh…” He could sense the disappointment in her tone.
“I’m sorry, Miss Russell. It’s just been a long time since I was in a position to entertain company, and it seems I’m out of practice.”
“Yes, of course,” she replied, and her lips hinted at a smile. “That does happen when one routinely chases away one’s visitors.”
Redmond found his chuckle had become rusty from disuse. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”
They went up the curving staircase until they were one floor above his bedchamber. He stopped in front of an ornately carved door and opened it for her.
