Behind the Courtesan - By Bronwyn Stuart Page 0,86
even begun to consider her return to Blakiston as the new start she’d needed for herself and her child. But that wasn’t meant to be either. Things did happen for a reason, but the reasons were usually irrational, unexplainable and devastating. There was that word again.
“Do you love him?” Violet asked.
“It doesn’t matter anymore. He could never respect me, he could never forget the fourteen years in between and the things I’ve done.” She looked up into Violet’s eyes, her own misting with hot tears she’d held back for days. “I’ve done things, Violet, things I could never forget or forgive, so why would he?”
“You don’t have to forget. Those years made you who you are today. You will have to forgive yourself before you can expect his forgiveness, but I suspect you don’t need his. I think he’s already given it to you. The arguments are his way of telling you he’s still hurting but I’m sure if you could understand where the pain comes from, you can take care of it. You can take care of it, him and you.”
“What if I don’t have the strength?” It was the scariest question she’d ever asked out loud. What if she didn’t have the strength? Would it all fall apart? “What if I can’t be that strong?”
“Maybe it’s time you stopped being needed and started to need. Perhaps you should let a big capable man be strong enough for the both of you?”
Chapter Twenty
Blake woke early the next morning with barely any sleep and a permanent lump stuck inside his throat. The sun wasn’t yet up, but it wouldn’t be long and he needed to be on the road now. He dressed quickly, unaware and uncaring of what he donned. In the kitchen he made coffee. As he gulped and his stomach warmed, his gaze was drawn to the small changes Sophie had made in the short time she’d spent turning his kitchen into her domain. Everywhere he looked was neat and tidy. She’d even scrubbed the wall above the hearth, bringing it back to a warm brick color rather than the red and black grime color it had become. He ran a tight kitchen, but he didn’t get time to do some things.
She had given him so much in the past week and not all because of the bargain he’d trapped her into. After their accident, she’d stepped up and done everything expected of a publican and more. But at the end of the day, she wasn’t made for this life. Running a tavern wasn’t going to keep her in Blakiston and he doubted he would be enticing enough on his own. No. He had to offer her something. Something more than a farmer’s wife and more than love.
In reality, with Sophie being so logical, love would not put a roof over her head. It didn’t matter how he offered it, she would need more.
Would she stay for a duke if not for a tavern keeper? If it came down to it, he would sell his soul for a roof over her beautiful head.
He walked back into the tap, and using the tip of his mud-crusted boot, he kicked Matthew awake and thrust a coffee into his hands, his energy more renewed now than when he’d first woken. “Drink up and make it quick,” he said. “I ride out in ten minutes with or without you.”
“Is it still raining?” Matthew asked as he rubbed his eyes and sat up.
“Rain stopped around three. It’ll be slippery but at least not so cold and miserable.”
“Speaking of miserable,” Matthew said with a small smile. “Where do you plan to start looking? It’s going to be treacherous going, even if the rain does keep off.”
He’d been thinking on that all night. The closest property over the bridge was Matthew’s. But why she would have gone there when her brother was at the inn, he wasn’t sure. Regardless, they had to start somewhere. “I’m going to backtrack to the bridge on the other side and you are going to go straight home. Check on your wife and then come and find me. The mud will be so deep on the other side that, with luck, I’ll see footprints. Hopefully the other two bridges are still standing.”
Neither man said it but the bridge to the south was sure to have taken the full weight of the fallen bridge and likely had been washed away as well. Hopefully, if luck did smile on them that day,