As if he could ever forget.
Part Two
Four Years
Later
Chapter Eight
Millbrae Valley, 1847
Blinking back her tears, Rhianna stood at her father's graveside. She had left the convent school as soon as she received word that her father was dying, but she had arrived too late to bid him a last good-bye.
Standing there, she remembered how kind and jolly he had always been when she was a little girl, before times got hard and the laughter forever left his eyes. Once, she had thought him calloused and unfeeling.
And even though she had understood his reasons, she had hated him for selling her to Rayven, but she had forgiven him for that long ago. She wished she had told him so. She murmured the words under her breath, hoping he could hear them.
She glanced at her sisters, who stood on the opposite side of the grave. They had grown from pretty little girls into lovely young women since she had last seen them. Aileen, the eldest, was engaged to be married in the spring. Rayven had given her a generous dowry that would enable her and her future husband to buy a small piece of land and build a home of their own.
She had been surprised to see how well they all looked. Their clothes were new and fashionable. The cottage, once little more than a hovel, was in good repair. Two large rooms had been added. A small stable had been built behind the cottage. It housed three milk cows, a goat, a sheep, and two fine horses.
When she'd questioned her mother about the changes in their circumstances, Ada had explained that Lord Rayven had refurbished the cottage and built the barn. Each year he sent a generous allowance.
"It was so good of you to think of our needs, Rhianna," her mother had said, "especially when your father sent you away."
"I had nothing to do with it," Rhianna had replied, though of course, in a way, she had.
"But why else would he do such a thing?" her mother had asked. "We are nothing to him."
He had done it because of her, Rhianna thought, and knew she could never repay him for his kindness to her family, for the education he had provided her.
The graveside service was brief. When the last prayer had been said, her mother dropped a handful of earth on the simple wooden coffin, and then each daughter, starting with the youngest, did the same.
Rhianna knew it was a sound she would never forget.
Putting her arm around her mother's shoulders, she led her away from the grave.
Back at the cottage, Rhianna brewed a pot of tea, then sat at the table across from her mother.
Rhianna picked up her cup, holding it in both hands, hoping the warmth would ease the coldness that she'd felt inside ever since she left the convent.
"How is Lord Rayven?" she asked after a while.
"How should I know? I heard he left the castle shortly after he sent you to Paris."
"He's not here?"
The coldness that had invaded her body now crept into her heart. He was gone. For four years, she had dreamed of seeing him again. Such a short time they had spent together, yet he had been in her thoughts every hour of every day, in her every dream at night.
"An odd man, that one," her mother mused. "I only saw him once." Ada shivered. "Such cold eyes.
Never have I seen such cold eyes."
"Cold?" Rhianna shook her head. He had not seemed cold to her. Lonely. Isolated. But not cold. She had seen the warmth in those eyes. The heat of desire. The flame of passion.
"Did he say where he was going? When he would be back?"
"Not that I recall." Ada sipped her tea. "Did he... Forgive me, Rhianna. I said I wouldn't ask, but I must know. Did he defile you, child?"
"No, Mother. He was kind to me."
"Kind?"
Rhianna nodded. "I had the best of everything while I was with him. He sent me to the best school in Paris, made sure that I had new clothes every year. I was the only girl who had a room of her own. He sent me an allowance each month so I would have spending money of my own. In truth, he has been most generous to me. And to you, it seems."
"Aye. It's glad I am that you're back, child. Have you come home to stay?"
Rhianna thought of what it would be like to live in the village again. She would miss Paris, miss her companions