Page 25 of The Ones Left Behind
“You knew I was out there?”
“Of course. You were never any good at hiding.” He put a spoonful of tart into his mouth.
“I was not precisely hiding,” she defended herself. “I was waiting. I wish to speak with you alone.”
“Under the circumstances, I am not certain being alone is wise.”
“I know, but how else are we to have a candid conversation?” she asked, growing exasperated.
“What did you wish to speak about?” He was going to toy with her and make her say it. He had always been thus.
“I thought we should address Sir Nigel’s behaviour. You heard his accusations.” That should suffice.
“He is a menace.”
“You will hear no argument from me on that score, but many are saying the same in the village. If you want me to go, I will.”
“Did you hear the entire conversation?” He looked up at her and fully met her gaze for the first time. Something shifted within her. It felt like their recent troubles had disappeared and a shadow of the old Matthias was looking at the old Kitty.
For a moment, she forgot to answer.
“Kitty?” he asked, a little furrow appearing between his brows.
“I—no, I do not believe I heard the entirety of the conversation, but I heard enough to know that you defended me and gave him a proper set down.”
Matthias again looked at her strangely, as if five years of heartache, loss and war had not come between them. And Peter. He had definitely come between them. Her heart clenched at the thought of her husband and friend. She missed him terribly—and still struggled to forgive him for dying and leaving her alone.
“What are you thinking about?” Matthias interrupted.
“Peter.”
“You still love him.”
“How can you even say that, as if I would ever stop loving him? Of course I love him. I have always loved both of you. But what has that to do with the current predicament?”
He kept watching her in that way he had which made her feel very self-conscious, but she held her ground.
“I do not wish for you to leave.”
She swallowed hard. “Do you mean that, truly? This is not based on your oath of honour or some misguided sense of pride?”
“Of course it is based on honour! I am surprised you could even ask.”
“Yes, honour defines a gentleman. Someone should have told Sir Nigel that,” she snapped. And turned to look out of the terrace doors.
“Judge me for myself alone. Kitty…” he began. She did not like the tone he used.
Turning, she met his gaze again and waited.
“There is a simple solution to all of this. It would stop the rumours and you would be secure for life.”
She knew what was coming, and much though she had longed, at one time, to hear the words, they could not be borne like this. She shook her head but he said them anyway.
“We could marry, Kitty.”
“Oh, Matthias, you know that is not a good idea.”
“Why not?” He looked hurt. “We should have been wed all those years ago. You just said you loved me as you love Peter, and you married him.”
