03 - The Wicked Lady (24 page)

Trevor shoved open the door. The room was bathed in a dim yellow light from the candles beside the bed. He could see her still form, and immediately went to her bedside. Her eyes were closed. He propped a hip on the side of the bed and pick up her hand, so he could hold it in his. Her skin felt cold and dry.

"Grandmere," Trevor said softly, and waited for Constance to look at him.

Finally, her eyelids fluttered open, and a weak smile touched her lips, "Trevor."

"This is a fine way to get attention," he teased, though he wanted to weep. "The last time you did this, I ended up with a wife. Now I'll wager you'll demand a baby."

"Yes, you have been a good grandson." She gave him a weak smile. "Although Kristen wouldn't have been the wife I'd have chosen for you." Constance clutched at her chest.

"Calm down, Grandmere. Take a deep breath." A sense of inadequacy swept over Trevor. "The doctor will be here shortly."

She looked him straight in the eyes. "I don't think I can wait for him."

Trevor felt an uncertainly as it crept into his expression, but he tried to keep his voice calm. "Nonsense."

"As I was saying," Constance added with a slight smile of defiance, "I wouldn't have picked Kristen, but now that I've gotten to know her, I see something special in her. She is so full of life that she has a sparkle in her. I just hope you'll be lucky enough to discover it." Constance spoke with quiet, but desperate firmness. A light flush stained her cheeks.

"I can see now what you first saw
in her," Constance continued. "It's something very special and rare."

"I'm not sure what you're saying," Trevor said, tr
ying to conceal his confusion. "What do you see?"

Constance wished she could have taught Trevor more about love. On that subject he seemed to be completely in the dark. But she knew he couldn't go through life keeping everyone at arm's length. If he was truly going to be happy, he would have to trust someone with his heart and be open to her. She knew he associated love with hurt.

"That, Trevor, you'll have to find out for yourself."

"You're not making any sense." His eyes narrowed as he held her gaze.  I married the girl, and I like her."

"Yes, I can see that." Her tongue was heavy with sarcasm. "These eyes are not that old." She gripped his hand. "If you're not careful, you'll lose her. I watched Kristen while you were gone. She is just as lost as you are. You need to tell her that you love her."

"But I don't," he muttered uneasily.

"Do you not?" Constance answered weakly.

The door opened, and Kristen came in and moved toward the bed. "Is there something I can do?"

"Just hold an old woman's hand." Constance held her hand up. "Trevor, go get Hagan." She watched her grandson leave, and she said a small prayer that he would find his way. She'd done all she could.

Once Trevor had gone, Constance squeezed Kristen's hand. "I know I've not been easy on you, but I only had Trevor's interests at heart. I want you to have something." She reached over and opened the drawer next to the bed. Pulling out a black velvet pouch, she handed it to Kristen.

"What's this?"

"Something that is very dear to me."

Kristen opened the pouch and shook the contents in her hand. The necklace that Kristen had stolen for Constance lay glittering up at her.

"I canna accept--this is yers."

"It will do me no good where I am going and I want you to have the necklace and think of me when you wear it."

"I canna except something so nice."

Constance didn't push the necklace on Kristen. There would be another way to give the child the gift she most cherished. "Hear me," Constance sighed, her breathing labored. "My time is growing short. You must get Trevor to open up if you ever want to keep him.

"I've tried."

"Try harder. Remember, everyone he has ever given his love to has let him down. After a while he, just grew cold inside."

Kristen gave a choked, desperate laugh. "But I dinna know what tae do."

Constance reach up and pointed to Kristen's chest. "Look deep inside yourself, and you'll find out what to do."

When Constance's hand dropped limply to her chest, Kristen gasped.

"Are ye all right?"

The door flew open, and Hagan scrambled into the room followed by Trevor.

"Grandmere!" Hagan climbed up on the stool beside the bed until he was at Constance's elbow. "What's wrong, Grandmere?"

She turned her head and smiled. "There's my big boy."

"What's wrong?"

"I'm tired, Hagan." She cupped his chin. "Sometimes people just wear out, but I do love you. Come closer and let me whisper in your ear."

Hagan straightened, then nodded. "I love you, too, Grandmere." He reached over and hugged her. "You need to go to sleep. You've got to finish my story." When she didn't say anything, Hagan shook her hand, but received no response. He looked at Kristen. "I think she's sleeping. We'd better be quiet." He slipped down from the stool and looked up at Kristen. "Why are you crying, Kristen?"

Kristen took his hand. "Come on, I'll put ye tae bed." She just couldn't tell Hagan tonight that Constance had died.

Kristen glanced at Trevor, her heart going out to him. The stricken look on his face tore at her heart, but she had no earthly idea how to comfort him. She touched his arm and squeezed. "I'm sorry."

As she said the words, a mask dropped into place on Trevor's face, covering the hurt and pain she'd seen only a moment ago. How would she ever get past that wall he'd erected between them?

She felt completely helpless.

Trevor went through the motions of dressing. He wanted so much to see Kristen, but he didn't have time. He'd been so unorganized since the death that he'd completely ignored his wife. It seemed like days, but it had only been a day.

He stepped through the connecting doors between their rooms to find Kristen's room empty. Disappointment flooded him. Perhaps she had already gone downstairs.

He shrugged. There was nothing left to do but join her. As he turned to leave, a red scarf caught his attention. It was hanging out of a closed drawer. He smiled for the first time in several days. The one thing he hadn't managed to teach his wife was tidiness.

Moving over to the dresser, he bent to adjust the drawer, and pulled on the knob. It seemed to be stuck, so he pulled a little harder only to successfully land the drawer and its contents on the floor at his feet.

"Damn," he muttered as he stooped to retrieve the scattered contents.

As he replaced everything, he reached for the red scarf, which he realized was tied around an object. Carefully, he unloosened the knot. Before his eyes lay a vast array of jewelry, which he couldn't recall giving his wife.

Kristen hadn't kept her promise!

Trevor frowned. His little thief had been stealing all the while and hiding her valuables. For what? He didn't like the thought that came to mind.

Kristen was stealing, so she could leave him.

Kristen searched for the right words to tell Hagan that Constance had died. When she finally found them, he wept like she'd never seen him weep before.

She held Hagan tightly in her arms and let him cry, knowing he needed to get everything out.

" 'Tis time tae stop crying, Hagan," Kristen said gently. "Trevor will be down in a moment, and then we'll go tae the burial plot.  Do ye understand?"

"But why did she have to die?"

" 'Tis God's way. She'd been sick for a long time, and her body had simply grown tired of the battle. I'll wager she is feeling much better now. She's probably dancing a jig with the angels."

"Do you really think so?" Hagan gave a teary-eyed grin.

"Aye, I do."

"I like that."

"I want ye tae be strong for Trevor." She looked at Hagan. "This will be a hard day for him."

"He's going to miss her, too."

Trevor's footsteps announced his arrival, and they both turned. "Are you ready?" he said from the doorway.

Kristen stared at Trevor, and an odd sensation crept up the back of her neck . . . an odd feeling she didn't particularly like. There was a coldness in his eyes she'd never seen before. Perhaps, she was being overly sensitive. After all, neither of them had slept after . . .

She smiled at Trevor, hoping to reassure him. He nodded, and turned. Again, Kristen felt cold. he took Hagan's hand and followed Trevor, unsure of these strange warning feeling that ran through her body.

The air felt cold today, Kristen thought as the drizzle came down in a fine mist that coated everything it touched, clinging to the mourners like a shroud as they stood beside the empty, dark hole.

Kristen stood between Trevor and Hagan. Her brother's soft sobs made Kristen ache inside, but not half as much as she ached for Trevor.

He stood like a stone statue, never showing the first emotion. She tried to hold his hand, and he let her for a few moments, before pulling away.

Pulling away
  . . . that was exactly what Trevor was doing to her. What little ground she'd gained since they were married was rapidly slipping away, and she didn't know what to do. To be truthful, she was scared to death.

After the small wooden coffin was lowered, Hagan clutched her hand tighter. She leaned down tae whisper in his ear, "It will be all right, Hagan. The duchess has gone to a far better place. Now she'll be an angel, and she can look down and watch ye."

He looked up at her with tears swimming in his huge brown eyes. "Do you really think so?"

Kristen could feel her eyes burning, but she held back the
tears as she nodded her head. "Aye, I do." Kristen had seen such a change in Constance since they'd come to live here. Maybe they had made a difference and Constance had finally been happy before she died. "Now she's yer guardian angel, sent tae heaven tae watch over ye."

Trevor placed a hand on Kristen's waist and murmured in a toneless voice, "It's time to go back."

They made their way from the family cemetery, across the back lawns to the house. All three walked in silence until they reached the house.

Once inside, Trevor stopped and addressed her, "I have something to take care of.  I'll see you later." Trevor excused himself and went into his study, leaving Kristen and Hagan standing in the hallway . . . alone.

Kristen never had a chance to say anything.  She was trying to understand.  She was trying to help.  He just needed time to be alone, she convinced herself, and she needed time with Hagan.  So, for now, she wouldn't worry about Trevor. Hagan was her problem. Maybe things would work out.

Time. That was all Trevor needed.

Alone in his study, Trevor went to the windows and leaned against the window sill. He watched the raindrops as they slid down the lead-glass panes like giant tears.

His grandmother had been a part of his life for as long as he could remember. When he was a child, she had been his pillar of strength. She'd always been demanding and feisty, but he knew her love was a constant thing he could count on.

He had wanted so much to have his mother's love, but he'd learned much too young that he wasn't allowed to touch her. He might mess up her clothes or her hair. Trevor couldn't remember ever hugging his mother, and the only thing his father had done was shake Trevor's hand, saying, "You have to be a man, son. Not a bit of fluff."

For a brief moment today, he'd considered hugging Kri
sten to him. He wanted so badly to bury his face in her soft hair and forget . . . forget about everything . . . all his responsibilities . . . everything.

But that wasn't the way life worked. Life was for responsible, hard-working people. They were the ones who got ahead in life . . . ahead to what? Well, he had no answers for himself, he thought as he turned from the window and moved to the liquor cabinet. He wanted to make this dull hurt go away.

"Kristen," he said to the empty room as he took the stopper off the decanter and splashed Scotch into a glass. He had married her as a business arrangement to please his grandmother. It was a firm deal. He had gotten a wife with no strings attached, and she'd gotten a roof over her head. But now . . .

Now, he knew Kristen was a true Johnstone robbed of her birthright. She was a very wealthy young woman on her own.  She didn't need his money, and she could walk out on him anytime. "Which she was evidently planning to do anyway," he murmured as he brought the glass to his lips.

He should tell her the truth. Of course, she had the right to know. If she knew, would she leave him? He took another swallow of the golden liquid. Probably. Anyone he'd ever cared about had left him.

He placed the glass down, and it bumped into the crystal decanter with a loud clink. The noise echoed around the room.

"Care for her?"

All right, he'd admit he did care for Kristen. And he didn't want her to leave him. What was he going to do? He wasn't sure, he decided as he slipped down into the over-stuffed chair with a bottle in one hand and a glass in the other.