Delphine turned sharply, and Bryony screamed out to him. “Sebastian! I’m here, in the tower!”
Delphine seemed stunned for a moment, and then with an alarmed gasp she turned, dashing out into the mist, which had begun to thread away now but which still swirled thickly in the movement of air caused by her flapping cloak.
Sebastian reined in at the sound of Bryony’s voice. He stared through the mist and saw a small cloaked figure appear at the foot of the tower. It hesitated, seeming to stare across at him.
“Bryony?” He urged his horse toward her.
The figure turned sharply then, running away through the grayness in the direction of the cliff.
“Bryony! Stop!” he shouted in alarm, realizing the danger she was in.
There was a moment of silence and then a scream. He heard small stones falling but then the sound was drowned by the shrieking of the startled gulls, which rose all around. Their calls resounded deafeningly against the stone of the folly, jarring upon his ears as he stared in horror in the direction of the scream. But then, beyond the clamor of the frightened birds, he heard someone calling for help.
“Sebastian! Help me, please! You must help me!”
He didn’t hesitate, dismounting and running through the mist toward the cliff. He saw the place where she had fallen— the bruised mesembryanthemum flowers bore witness. But as he knelt and looked over the edge of the cliff, he gazed not into Bryony’s face but Delphine’s.
She was clinging to a small bush, and the sheer fall stretched sickeningly away below. The mist cleared for a moment and he could see the water lapping softly around the rocks at the foot of the cliff. With his unwounded arm
he reached down to her, his fingers strong about her little wrist as he pulled her up to safety. He drew her away from the edge. “Where’s Bryony?” he demanded urgently.
She stared at him, hesitated for a moment, and then flung her arms around his neck. “Don’t talk about her, Sebastian! She’s nothing! I love you so much, you know that I do!”
He disentangled her hands and thrust her angrily away. “I know the truth about you, Delphine, and I despise you for it! Now, where’s Bryony?”
“I’m here.”
He whirled about to see her, her light brown hair tumbling in profusion about her shoulders. He went to her, gathering her close in his arms and ignoring the shaft of pain which lanced through his injured arm. She was safe, no harm had come to her!
Delphine gave a sob of despair, turning to hurry away from them. They heard the sound of her horse’s hooves vanishing into the morning as she rode back toward Polwithiel.
Sebastian’s lips moved softly against Bryony’s hair. “It’s all right now, it’s over.”
“I trusted her so, I thought she was my friend.”
“I know. Petra and I realized the truth tonight.”
She moved away guiltily. “I’ve been dreadfully wrong about Petra too. She didn’t deserve to be treated as I treated her. I know that she didn’t think me good enough for you, and maybe I’m not, but she did try to be my friend, didn’t she?”
“Yes, she did, but she was wrong about you too, as she knows now.” He put his hand gently to her cheek, his thumb moving softly over her pale skin. “I wronged you too when tonight I allowed you to think I’d been lying all along. Forgive me.”
He hesitated. “Bryony, don’t go back to Ireland, stay here with me. I
once said that when the time was right I would tell you why I wanted to marry you. Well, maybe that time has come. I want you because I love you, I’ve loved you since first I saw your portrait. That is why I agreed straightaway to your father’s request, and why nothing that has happened since has diverted me from my purpose.”
She stared at him, a great joy sweeping through her. It was true! He loved her!
He raised her face a little. “Each time I’ve been with you I’ve loved you more, but each time too I believed you did not like me, and that was why I could not bring myself to confess the truth to you. If only you’d known how much you affected me that first night when I saw you dancing, you were so carefree and natural, so completely unspoiled by the ways of the society to which I belong and of which I have grown so very weary. When I returned from London, I was determined to tell you how I felt.
“My aunt’s letter angered me, for I knew that it did not tell the truth about you. I was coming to Polwithiel when I saw you riding alone. I followed you and saw you rescue the little girl’s doll. I loved you so very much at that moment, Bryony, but when you saw me you were cold, indeed you seemed to hate me. I could not say anything to you then.”
“Oh, Sebastian,” she whispered, “I didn’t hate you, I was behaving like that out of bravado, because I loved you and thought you loved Petra.”
He drew her into his arms. “Tell me again that you love me.”
“I love you.”
His lips were warm and slow over hers. The calls of the gulls seemed to melt away into nothingness, and all that mattered in the world was that they were together at last. There were no doubts or thoughts of unhappiness now, and never would be again.
Copyright © 1985 by Sandra Heath
Originally published by Signet (ISBN 9780451135674)
Electronically published in 2016 by Belgrave House/Regency
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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.