“What now?”
“My…future husband’s man of affairs is to be waiting, and he will take me—”
“That’s not what I’m saying, Claire. Is this what you want? For me to leave you here? Let me escort you the rest of the way.”
She hesitated, and he thought for a minute she might reject that offer and that this would really be the end. “Thank you, Caleb,” she said quietly and then handed over the folded sheet of velum.
Caleb accepted the page, unfolded it… and just stared at the note.
Written in a very familiar hand.
He quickly skimmed his gaze over the words. Over and over. Several times. But nothing changed. He snapped the sheet closed.
“What is this?” he demanded.
“That is my… bridegroom’s residence,” she explained, tripping over that description of the gentleman.
Caleb’s mind hastily assembled all the details she’d shared:
A business arrangement.
He needed a partner, and it seemed like a good idea.
Then he went absolutely motionless as the truth slammed into him with the same force of the explosion his British prison ship had taken when a cannon had hit it.
Why, Claire Poplar’s husband was…
The man Claire was headed to marry was… him.
Me. It is me.
Fucking hell.
His mind balked. He couldn’t marry Poppy’s sister-in-law. Her romantic sister-in-law.
How the hell was he going to handle this?
Chapter 16
Given everything she was about to face, a new life and a soon-to-be husband, there should surely be some trepidation on Claire’s part about this final, short leg of her travels.
Mayhap some excitement… This was the next stage of her life, a new journey on which she’d embark as a woman on her own, free of her mother’s constraints, society’s cruelty, and the constant reminders of everything the Poplars had done wrong.
And yet, the last leg of her journey brought a crushing weight of sadness.
At saying goodbye to Caleb Gray?
Why, it was preposterous.
It was laughable.
Inconceivable.
And yet, there it was.
She was going to miss him.
Because the person she’d spent these past days in such close quarters with hadn’t been the surly man she’d come to know in Caleb Gray.
Oh, he’d always be gruff and blunt, but he wasn’t the mean monster she’d taken him for. From this day forward, to Claire, Caleb would forever be the man who’d shared his rooms with her and not seen her family’s sins as belonging to her. And he’d be the one who’d given her Gordale Scar.
These last moments with him, however, proved all too short as they arrived just a few short minutes later.
And for the first time, it hit her: She would be here alone. Without her sisters. Without Tristan. Without her mother.
There’d be no noisy household of siblings. Or barking from Poppy and Tristan’s pups.
Tears pricked her lashes. Who could have imagined that in this moment she would find herself missing even her overbearing, judgmental, opinionated mother?
With trembling hands, Claire shoved the curtains back and looked down the length of the overgrown, graveled drive at her almost-husband’s household, this place where she would live.
As imposing as she had imagined it, it was the very image of a dark, dangerous wild that Faye would have relished for the dark histories that no doubt dwelled in every corner of this keep. While their other sister, Christina, who’d once dreamed of being the first female architect, would have thrilled at all the ways in which she could improve these properties.
All Claire was capable of seeing, however, was this place that she’d now call home.
More castle than manor, it was a medieval fortress perched high on a hill. Ivy climbed the dilapidated parapets. Parts of the walls of the outer unit had crumbled, leaving stone scattered about. The gates at the end of the drive hung forlornly, as broken as the structure they had once protected.
She shivered.
Night’s Keep.
There was no more apt name for the soaring keep outside the carriage window.
It was in the sorriest state of disrepair on the outside, so she could only begin to imagine the sad conditions on the inside. It was a contrast to the home she’d lived in for the better part of her life, those stolen estates that had been perfect in every way, but for the stain of sin attached to them. This was a place that had been stripped to the bottom and left empty.
It was… a blank slate.
A clean canvas.
Those words whispered in her mind, tantalizing, hopeful. And they managed to dry up her tears, clearing her vision so she could see—truly see—what was before her.
Just like that, some of the sadness at missing those she’d left behind dissipated.
“Miserable-looking place, no?” Caleb murmured, an almost hopeful quality to his tone. “This ain’t a place you’d want to stay.”
She frowned.
She wanted to resent him for passing judgment on her new residence, but couldn’t. Because she, too, had seen what he had. Nor was he wrong. It did look miserable. “I think it magnificent,” she said softly.
He strangled on a laugh. “What?”
“It is a place in need of attention and resurrection, for sure.” That was something she knew all too well. “But you don’t just abandon something because it isn’t what it once was. You don’t forget about it and leave it to rot alone.” Claire touched a finger to the windowpane. The cold penetrated the fabric of her glove. “There are stories in the stone, Caleb. There is beauty in the wilderness and rawness. The kind that makes an artist take note. It’s not a perfect floral arrangement-type place.” She smiled. “And it is perfect for it.”
In that moment, she knew everything would be all right. She might not have the future she’d dreamed for herself, or love, or even the connection she’d forged these past days with Caleb. But it was still going to be… all right.
She felt Caleb’s gaze on her and looked over.
His stare penetrated her as he moved his gaze over her face in the same way she’d observed him eyeing paintings.
Energy filled every corner of the carriage, sucking her breath and leaving her frozen.
“Finished, sir,” the driver called out, and the moment was shattered.
The driver had had to stop to drag a downed branch from the path.
A moment later, the carriage resumed rolling along the drive toward her future, and the husband who awaited her.
“Claire, we’re gonna need to talk,” Caleb began, his voice strained.
“You can’t change my mind, Caleb.”
The carriage rocked to its final stop, and there came a flurry of activity. With a handful of servants streaming out of the immense keep, along with a tall, wiry, blond fellow close behind, sprinting down the steps and toward the carriage.
Oh, my God. Her heart pounded. This was him. The man she’d marry.
Possessed of deeply tanned skin and a decisive nose, this broad-browed man was… not whom she’d been expecting. In her mind, he’d been aged. With at least two decades on her, heavy wrinkles, and graying hair.
Not this man, handsome in a classical way and strong in a non-Englishman kind of way, and yet, she found herself preferring the rougher, heavier features of the man across from her.