Again (13 page)

Brandi began to giggle.  “I think in my next life I’ll come back as some movie star’s cat and just lay around all day.  Or better yet, a dog, so I can just piss on everything.”
 
Now she laughed convulsively, slapping the countertop with her palm, snorting with each intake of air.

Eryn wanted to tell her to shut up, to stop her moronic laughing.
 
She wanted to yell at Brandi that maybe she was just too close-minded.
 
And she wanted to do it without bursting out in tears, but she knew she couldn’t.
 
Besides, she didn’t want either of them to know how much the ridicule bothered her.
 
She took her frustrations out on the carrots, lining them up and chopping at them furiously, not bothering to pick up the ones she sent catapulting across the floor.

Then Bryce was there, taking the knife out of her hand and gently pushing her away.
 
“Here, let me do that.  Why don’t you get me some garlic?”
 
He nodded his head in the direction of the pantry.

Eryn grudgingly complied, throwing open the pantry door and staring into its depths, not really seeing.
 
She wanted to believe what she was going through was just her imagination, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t.

“Don’t you have to go to work?”  Bryce directed a cool look at Brandi.

“What, you’re kicking me out?”
 
Her laughing faded.

“Of course not,” he said smoothly.  “I just didn’t think you wanted to be late.”

Not catching the sarcasm in his voice, Brandi she looked at the clock on the wall.  “Oh, shit.  It’s later than I thought.”  She swung her legs around and stood up.  “Oh well.  I’ll just let my manager grab my ass and he’ll forget what time it is.”
 

When Bryce and Eryn just stared at her, she protested, “What?”  Brandi looked from one to the other.  “Hey, it’s not my fault he’s easy to distract.”  She grabbed her jacket and keys off the table and headed towards the door.  “Hey, Eryn!
 
Still on for lunch tomorrow?” she said over her shoulder.

“Yeah, sure,” Eryn said with enthusiasm she didn’t feel.  She went back to staring inside the pantry.

“Great.  See you tomorrow then,” Brandi called from down the hall.
 
The front door slammed shut.

It would just be nice, Eryn thought, if Brandi were supportive for once…just once.

“Garlic.
 
Second shelf down.
 
Basket with onions in it.”

Eryn hadn’t realized she was still staring at nothing until Bryce broke through her thoughts.
 
She grabbed a bulb and snapped off a clove.

“Why do you still keep her around?”
 
He scooped up the cut carrots and dropped them in a bowl before lining up a handful more.

Eryn tossed the clove onto the cutting board.
 
Why
did
she keep her around?  She sighed.
 
“We’ve known each other for a long time.  Habit, I guess.”

“She could have been a little more supportive,” he commented.

“What, you believe in reincarnation?”
 
Her head snapped up in surprise.

“Is that what she was talking about?” he said, not looking up.  “No.
 
I just didn’t like the way she was giving you a hard time.”

She shrugged.
 
“It didn’t bother me.”

Bryce stared at her, the knife stalled above the carrots.
 
“Eryn, you almost cut your finger off.”

He was right and they both knew it.
 
Brandi had pushed her too far and Eryn let her get away with it.
 
Again.
 
Eryn wrapped her arms around his waist and snuggled close to his chest.

They stood in silence, dinner forgotten for the moment.
 
Bryce draped his arms lightly around her back.

The embrace was nothing to cause an inferno, she thought, but it would have to do.

Chapter 12

Catherine sat alone near the cliffs that bordered one side of her father’s lands, not far from the castle walls.
 
It was here, on this side of the castle, where the waters raged the fiercest and were the most ominous.
 
These cliffs were the barriers that softened the blow, tamed the current, and protected the beach and port farther to the south so that the ships could safely anchor.

She studied the ocean stretching to the horizon.
 
Very rarely did she venture here.
 
It usually unnerved her, the distance from the rocky edge to the water below, and the realization of how a slight breeze could mean the difference between life and death.
 
But now she was drawn to it, focusing on the beauty of the water, the rich blues and greens of its depths.
 
The peaks of water drifted up and down over the lazy roll of the swells that eventually found their way to the sharp rocks below.
 
An odd longing tugged in the pit of her stomach, an unrest that contrasted sharply against the soft breeze that drifted up and over the edge of the cliff, carrying the scent of salty seawater to her nose.
 
She lifted her face to feel its caress along her cheeks, welcoming its calming touch.

Though only seventeen summers old, she felt as though she had lived a lifetime.
 
In a few months’ time her father would host a festive ball to herald her eighteenth summer.
 
How much, she wondered, had she really lived?  She laughed often when her mother was alive, but that part had retreated to lie undisturbed, and until now she had felt no reason to seek it out.
 
Jonathan had caused the laughter to stir anew, bringing with it memories of happier days at the castle.

Her mother had the ability to cast rays of light to any dark corner and enjoyed a disposition that tamed even the stormiest of nights.  Her mother loved life and held it tightly to her breast.  She insisted her daughters join her for galloping rides upon the beaches, searching for caves along the cliffs, swimming naked in the waves on moonlit nights.
 
She laughed in the face of propriety.
 
Life was for living, she often told them.
 
She dared to test the limits of life and at the same time, the patience of her husband, but he truly loved her and all that she was.

Her mother's death had devastated Catherine.  She vividly recalled the pain that ravished her heart, the tears that would not cease, the days and nights she spent in her chambers, inconsolable, and then the numbness that spread through her body allowing her peace at last.  Though the pain finally subsided, the protective cloak that she had donned still remained. 

Until now.  This merchant, a man of the seas, had ripped a hole in that cloak.
 
He caused her to question herself and made her feel things that confused her, sensations she found disturbing…yet pleasurable.
 
She smiled wryly.  Around that man her body had betrayed her.  His look, his touch, his mere presence overcame her reasoning.  She closed her eyes to conjure up the vision of Jonathan, his muscular shoulders bronzed by the sun, his flowing hair, his lips as he touched them to her skin, and his eyes that gave her soul peace and made her smile.

A noise brought her back to the cliffs. 

Emelie fell into a deep curtsey. “Milady, Sir Galen approaches.”

Galen was, Catherine admitted as she turned and watched him stride confidently toward her, a devastatingly handsome knight.
 
He was tall and strong, with his long golden hair framing a face that many a maiden undoubtedly dreamed of.
 
His eyes, steady and serious, were only for her.

He sat down next to Catherine, placing his sword at his side. “I’ve been looking for you, Catherine. I hardly thought to find you here.”

Aye, I am surprising myself these days past.
 
She sighed.
 

“It’s so beautiful out there, isn’t it?” she said, her eyes never leaving the diamond-tipped waters.
 
The ocean rolled rhythmically beneath the surface, lifting the tiny crests and putting them down gently in its wake.

Galen eyed her with curiosity before turning his attention to the ocean. “Aye, that it is.”

They sat in silence for a moment before he added, “But never can it be as beautiful as you.”

She glanced sideways at him.
 
He was a good, kind man, and completely unaware of his own fine looks.
 
His steel blue eyes harbored intense passion and his strong chin held determination. 

He had shown his loyalty to her family many times, protecting what he considered his own.  If she were to accept Galen to be her husband, she could be happy.  He was her champion and her friend.  She could not ask for a more perfect match.  And he was here with her now.  Jonathan would be setting sail in the morning and would be gone, possibly never to return.
 

“Did you see Lord Oakley this morning?”
 
Galen plucked at the grass beside him, averting his eyes.

“No,” Catherine answered.
 
“I could not have possibly stomached another moment around him.”

He nodded, but still would not look at her.
 
“I saw that your horses were gone. Where did you go?”

Galen was behaving oddly, she thought.
 
He never questioned her whereabouts, knowing well that she frequently rode her horse freely across her father’s lands, often being away for hours.

She would not lie, but she chose her words carefully.
 
“Emelie accompanied me to the port to pass the time until Lord Oakley left for hawking with Father.”

Again he nodded, raising his head to look before him.

Catherine could see him struggling with something, his jaw rhythmically clenching, his eyes looking at the water, but not really seeing what was there.
 
She could see the indecision in the way he ever so slightly rocked back and forth, his breath quick and shallow.

Then abruptly he turned to her with determination.
 
Gently capturing her chin in his hand, he whispered her name and ignoring the servants’ stares, he kissed her.
 
His lips were soft on hers, hesitant and questioning.

Catherine surrendered herself for only a moment before pulling away.

Not put off by her retreat, he looked at her through brooding eyes. “I love you, Catherine, and have since I first lay eyes upon you.
 
I believe you know that.”

Yes, she knew.
 
She saw it every time he looked for her across the great hall.
 
She felt it every time he touched her.
 
She heard it when he spoke her name.
 
She knew his love was strong and undying.  How could she not love this man?
 
She watched the breeze blow the golden strands of his hair onto his face and the sunlight dance upon his hair.  Her fingers trailed along the line of his jaw.  He was everything a woman could want.  Why was she unable to return the love he so freely gave?  

He held her hand against his cheek, closing his eyes as if to absorb her touch.  “I will wait for you, Catherine.  Forever.”

Her brows furrowed together.  Valiant, controlled, fierce, and commanding.  To others Galen was all of these, but only Catherine knew the depth of his vulnerability and passion.

“Forever is a long time, Galen.
 
You could grow tired of waiting for me.”

He took both her hands and held them between his own.  “I have naught but time.”  The passion in his eyes had dimmed a bit, tempered by concern.
 
“Pray tell me.
 
What is it that upsets you?”

Secrets had never been held from one another, but today she could not bring herself to share her uncertainty.  How could she explain the feelings she had for another man?
 

She shook her head.
 
“Tis nothing.
 
I was thinking a bit about my mother.”
 

She could not look at him, lest he see another truth in her eyes.

Galen said nothing, but seemed to accept her answer.

She leaned against his arm and settled her head upon his shoulder.  They sat together in silence, their thoughts separate from one another. 

≈

Catherine hardly expected to find herself standing on the deck of the
La Helena
.

After the evening meal tonight, feeling entirely too restless, she had claimed a headache and begged to retire early.
 
After instructing Emelie to lock Catherine’s chamber door, stay there, and not let anyone in, she had slipped out the kitchen, saddled her horse, and rode out the gates to the ocean.
 
She felt compelled to go, her body and soul begging to see Jonathan one more time. 
 

This can never be,
her mind had argued. 
What of Galen?