Lady Trent (43 page)

He would not look at her.

“Jacob, what is it?”

As if by force, he turned his head so that
their eyes met. “Foolish of me to think I could bring you here and
keep your heart all to myself. Very foolish. I suppose I have
brought this upon myself. I should have thought so far ahead.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Marcus,” he said and held her gaze.

“What about him?”

“The man has surrendered himself to exile…and
for a reasonable cause. I returned from Rowan where he has kept
himself secluded, refusing my messengers and behaving violently
toward some of them.”

“Is he well?”

“No.”

“No?” She searched his eyes. “What’s wrong?
Is he ill?”

“Yes.” His saddened eyes met with hers. “Ill
with guilt. Ill…with love.”

She immediately turned her gaze away,
avoiding his although a harsh one it wasn’t. He continued.

“I went to him, demanding an explanation
which, I must say, would probably be better left unknown—for a
little while longer, anyway. The man is in love, Rachel. He is in
love with you.”

“What?” She almost laughed. “Jacob that
is—“

“He told me so, Rachel.”

“When? Where?”

“You didn’t know?”

“No, I…I don’t know.”

“Or could it be that now after having heard
it said, you, as I, can look back and see it very plainly.”

She simply shook her head.

“A man shouldn’t suffer for his feelings if
they are wrong but never acted upon.” He paused before asking, “Did
he ever act upon them?”

“No.” She assured him. “He has not misbehaved
toward me.”

“My hope is that this will pass. Perhaps now
that he has gotten it out in the open it
will
pass. That’s
sometimes the case with a man.” He would have stood, but taking his
hand she kept him there.

“You shouldn’t despise him because of me. You
are friends and should remain so.”

“I agree,” he said, patting her hand. “I
agree.” He bent, dropping a kiss on her temple and stood, making a
quiet exit from the room, and leaving her in total despair.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

A few very long, dreary days passed. The end
of the week, after Jacob had kept himself from her and everybody
else, hidden in his private quarters, Rachel went into Rowan and
searched for Marcus.

Jacob had been correct in saying the day
would come when riding horseback would perhaps come in handy. She’d
dressed in her riding apparel which had lay dormant for some time,
and acquired a horse in secret from Linus who, although hesitant,
agreed to offer a steed for the ride.

“It will be a short trip,” she lied, knowing
well the journey was a decent one. She’d located Rowan on the map,
discovering a route to it that would certainly be the quickest.
Linus also suggested a few guards to go along, ones who would not
speak of her whereabouts. To this she agreed, thinking they could
very well ride with her in silence…agreeing to the journey for the
sake of her safety. Once they realized she intended to travel to
Rowan, she had already gone so far, and they would not turn around,
nor could they persuade her to do so. They only briefly tried.

So she rode into Rowan, wondering what sort
of place he would reside in. Zaria had once named a woman by the
name of Patrice. So she went about asking for a lady by that name.
It was quickly answered, and he was, indeed, to be located at her
place of residence.

Patrice knew who she was immediately. Her
eyes skimmed over her. She peered quite suspiciously upon her for a
time before greeting, although with absolutely no apparent desire
to do so, “Lady Trent, what a surprise.” She then went on to slyly
and suspiciously ask, “What do you want?”

Rachel’s shoulders straightened, “Is he
here?”

“Who?”

“Marcus,” she said, remaining calm although
knowing good and well this woman knew exactly who she was talking
about.

Again her sleek, dark eyes skimmed over her.
“He does not want to be bothered much less by you.”

“Tell him I am here.”

“No.”

“I will not leave until you do so”

“You may stay in Rowan so long as you
wish…only in time your husband will come for you.”

“My husband is not well. Marcus must be
told.”

This changed the woman’s attitude instantly.
“Is he dying?” She asked.

“I will answer only him,” she said to
her.

Patrice, with a sly sidelong glance stepped
aside, allowing her inside, and lifting the hem of her skirts, led
the way up a narrow flight of steps. She stopped in front of one
particular door, rapped on it with her knuckles and after a brief,
narrow stare, walked away.

There was no response from the other side.
Rachel placed a hand on the knob, hesitating before turning it and
opening the door. She instantly spotted Marcus and he her from a
seat at the opposite side of the room. He’d lifted his head and
their eyes met. Her heart stopped beating altogether. It appeared
his may have as well. In fact, his face went pale, as if he had
seen a ghost.

Without taking her eyes from him, she began
to close the door, but not altogether. At the same time, his
expression changed…it changed abruptly to one of pure
irritation.

“What are you doing here?” He demanded.

“I need to speak to you,” she simply
stated.

“Are you so foolish as this, to visit me like
this now?”

“Am
I
foolish? You should rather ask
yourself that question.”

“You should not be here.”

She pushed the door with a palm so that it
snapped shut. “Why did you say those things to him? Marcus, what
were you thinking? There was absolutely no reason, none at all.
Why? Marcus, why?”

He stood, turning his back to her and his
face toward the empty fireplace. “For the sake of the truth, which
you obviously know nothing about.”

“What truth? Marcus, nothing has
happened.”

“It
has
happened.”

“We’ve done no wrong.”

“No wrong?” He turned from the hearth. ““Did
I not kiss you? Did you not allow me? How can you say we’ve done no
wrong? You of all people? Have you forgotten the difference between
right and wrong?”

“I’ve forgotten nothing.”

“And you call me foolish for being honest?
For the love of god, Rachel, I love you. My dearest friend’s wife.
My friend, closer than a brother, than any man I’ve ever known.” He
barely shook his head. “You may see nothing wrong with it, even
with hiding and pretending, roaming about a man’s home, lusting
after his wife, and of kissing her. You may see nothing wrong with
those things…but I do.”

She dropped her head back and stared up at
the ceiling, fighting to keep control of her emotions, to even
piece all of these things together. It’d all had happened so
suddenly.

“Jacob is not just any man,” Marcus said,
bringing her attention back to him. “Otherwise, I would not give a
damn.”

Both of their gazes dropped to the floor. For
a while there was complete silence.

“How is he?” He came to ask.

“I don’t know,” she softly replied. “He is
not speaking to anyone.” She suddenly shook her head and swung
around. “I must go.” But before she could, he had her by the wrist
keeping her in place, swinging her about to face him.

“Where are you going?”

“Home,” she threw at him. “I’m going
home.”

He slung her arm away. “You still refer to
Westerly as your home?”

She said nothing at all.

“So that is it. You are going back to
Westerly.”

“I will go insane if I don’t go away from you
and him and everything. From here, from there. From everything and
everyone.”

“And what will you then do? After you’ve run
away? Will you forget? Pretend as if Jacob Trent did not exist? As
if you are not married or never were to begin with? As if I do not
exist?”

“What else am I to do? What good is anything?
My world is falling apart.”

“
Your
world,” he repeated, mocking
her. He forced a laugh that was evidently faked. “Yes, indeed, your
world. Yours.”

“Yes, my world,” she agreed, her eyes
slanting at him. “It has been nothing but hassle since I received
that summons, since I accepted it—since I met him
and
you.”

“Since you were given a taste of the real
world,” he implied. “Now look at what you’ve become. A coward.”

Her eyes rounded. “I am not a coward,” she
said slowly through her teeth.

“Such a woman who cannot face her own heart,
her own thoughts, the truth about herself, and who would run from
the consequences of those things…what else would you call such a
woman?”

“This is not who I am,” she decided, her eyes
stinging but without tears. She said it louder a second time, “This
is not who I am.”

“Then you have been pretending all along.” He
cornered her, making a point that she was already aware of. She
understood exactly what he was saying. “Since the beginning, you
have been pretending to have feelings for anyone at all, even to
the point of marriage?”

“I love Jacob and you know it. I have not
pretended. But now look at me, what I’ve become. This person I…..I
am not who I was.”

“No, you are not,” he agreed, and stared
upward as if to recall something, and indeed he did reminisce,
recalling what’d been said of her in the beginning. “Rachel the
Elder, known for her humility and honesty and faithfulness to those
she loves, and to those things she sets her heart upon. Even then
you were not who you truly are, or even what you were capable of.
And now you will walk away from your commitments. That should not
surprise me, just as it did not the first.”

So soon as he had said it, a hand came up
automatically, and she slapped him hard across the face. She then
stood back, shocked by her own actions. She’d never stricken anyone
in all her life.

He didn’t budge, not even to touch a hand to
his cheek which reddened before the very eye. He appeared a bit
disappointed with himself, his choice of words. His gaze lowered
and skipped about before coming to rest sadly upon her. “You
thought yourself faultless,” he said.

“I did not.”

“And deceived yourself…not seeing that your
ultimate fault all along was pride.”

“I was not proud, and I certainly am not
now.”

“Because you thought you were perfect, and
that you were incapable of anything besides perfection.”

“I never claimed to be perfect.”

“And now you threaten to run away. From what?
None other than the very imperfect person you have become. You
cannot face yourself let alone Jacob or even I. Yes, by all means
leave. Go. And build again that perfect nature you’d adapted
to.”

“You don’t understand.”

“I do understand. Can you not see it? You
despise what you claim we have made you become. You were capable
all along. You merely secluded yourself from the prospect of it.
Not that I disagree with that seclusion. For the sake of it all, I
wish you would have stayed in Westerly and continued to be the
woman you wanted to be.”

His words sank in. Her emotions were torn in
all directions. She felt grieved and angry and sad and then all of
those things all over again.

“Do not run away,” he calmly commanded. “Stay
put and face these conditions. That, Rachel, is what people in the
actual world do. They do not run and hide behind veils.”

“Then what would you call this?” She asked,
skimming a hand from left to right. “Have you not hidden
yourself?”

“This, milady, is a temporary arrangement. I
will do what is required of me as a man, as I already have done by
even speaking the truth. Now I must face it. I must face him. I
will do what reasonable people are known to do. We confront our
wrongs and admit them until it is no longer necessary to do so. We
face whatever becomes of it. But you seem to find no fault in
yourself at all.”

“I did not say I am without fault.”

“I shared my feelings, you needn’t share
yours. You have no obligation to admit anything. I am the one he
will now detest, not you.”

“What could come of any of this? Jacob is
hurt. I cannot see him this way. I do not want to see him this
way….hurting as he is.”

“I suppose you think I do.”

“I don’t know what you want.”

“I did not spill my heart out to him in hopes
he would shove you out of his life and into mine. His friendship
means more to me than any woman ever will.”

“Then I will leave and the two of you can
settle it between yourselves.”

“You truly think it that simple.”

“I can handle my own hurt, Marcus, but I
cannot handle his and yours, too.”

“Then by all means, leave us be to handle it.
By all means, do that very thing.”

She studied his words before swinging around.
This time he did not stop her, but allowed her to go, and Patrice
no longer appeared offended by her presence as she swished by her
at the bottom of the staircase where she’d escaped after
overhearing the conversation from the other side of the door.

Rachel left, and made a stop…back to the
Great City. And then back to a portion of the reality she’d once
known.

To be continued