stubborn, stubborn woman. Look at me.”
She did and ought not to have because the moment she did all her resentment evaporated.
“I’ve no authority over you, God knows that’s so. But who else will you trust with the truth? Your sister-in-law? Or will you tell Magnus the reason you’re marrying a man you don’t love?”
“You know I can’t.” Tears burned in her eyes, and she had to look away to keep him from seeing how close she was to tears. She couldn’t. She could not complain to her brother about his wife nor breathe a word about her unhappiness.
“Come here.” Crispin tugged on her arm and spread his other arm wide and she walked into his arms where she had always been safe and where all was right with the world. “Tell me. You’ll feel better for it, you know you will.”
“I’ve tried to like her. I’ve tried. And I can’t.” She rested her forehead on his chest. He smelled good, and his body was warm. “She’s empty and shallow, and she loves Magnus, that’s obvious to anyone with eyes, but she doesn’t love Doyle’s Grange.” She lifted her head and Crispin used the side of his thumb to wipe away her tears. “I knew there was no hope when she didn’t laugh after Magnus told her his ridiculous joke about how it came to be called Doyle’s Grange.”
“She didn’t?”
“No. And that’s why I have to marry Jeremy.” She gripped the lapels of his coat. “I can’t stay here. I can’t. I’m not a good enough person for that. I’ll go mad if I stay, and if I don’t go mad, then one day I’ll say something to her I shouldn’t, and Magnus must take her side.”
Crispin stroked a hand over her head. “But him?” He spoke in a low voice. “The man’s not worthy of you.”
“You don’t know that.” She pushed away from him. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
He followed her to the very rear of the lawn but needed another step to come even. They were off the path, both of them moving quickly.
She spoke before he’d caught up. “Magnus likes him.”
“Magnus tolerates him because he thinks you love the man.”
She put out a hand to slow him down. “Oh, do watch where you put your feet. You’ll step—”
“What?”
She stopped walking. But Crispin, being a tall man and in the middle of a step, moved those few inches more. She cried out. Too late. His foot came down on the grass. “Look what you’ve done.”
“What? What have I done?” He followed her downward glance with a puzzled expression.
“You’ve killed it.” Tears burned in her eyes and choked off her words until she managed to swallow. “There’s little enough beauty here anymore. Eleanor is determined to ruin it all, and now you’re destroying what’s left for me to enjoy. There’s nothing else here I love. Not any more.”
“I’m sorry.” It was plain he’d no idea what he’d done. None at all.
“You’re not.” She stared at the crocus that he’d smashed into the dirt, and all she could see was her future if she stayed. She knelt by the flattened plant. “You’re not sorry at all. Don’t pretend you are. This one’s managed to escape her and now you’ve crushed it, and it’s dead.”
Crispin crouched across from her and pushed away her hand. He built up a wall of mud and propped the flower on it. “There. Perhaps like the rowan it will recover with some benign neglect.”
“It won’t.” Those were tears thickening her voice, but she met his gaze head on. “If it survives the day, Eleanor will find it, and she’ll tell Hob to dig it up. If she doesn’t kill it with her own bare hands. That’s all she ever does, murder what I love and all the time she makes it impossible to be angry at her.”
He frowned at the mud on his gloves. With a hard sigh, he pulled them off and dropped them in his coat pocket. Then, both of them still bent over the plant, he tapped the underside of her chin. “I’m sorry I was clumsy and trod on your flower. I’m sorry Eleanor
She did and ought not to have because the moment she did all her resentment evaporated.
“I’ve no authority over you, God knows that’s so. But who else will you trust with the truth? Your sister-in-law? Or will you tell Magnus the reason you’re marrying a man you don’t love?”
“You know I can’t.” Tears burned in her eyes, and she had to look away to keep him from seeing how close she was to tears. She couldn’t. She could not complain to her brother about his wife nor breathe a word about her unhappiness.
“Come here.” Crispin tugged on her arm and spread his other arm wide and she walked into his arms where she had always been safe and where all was right with the world. “Tell me. You’ll feel better for it, you know you will.”
“I’ve tried to like her. I’ve tried. And I can’t.” She rested her forehead on his chest. He smelled good, and his body was warm. “She’s empty and shallow, and she loves Magnus, that’s obvious to anyone with eyes, but she doesn’t love Doyle’s Grange.” She lifted her head and Crispin used the side of his thumb to wipe away her tears. “I knew there was no hope when she didn’t laugh after Magnus told her his ridiculous joke about how it came to be called Doyle’s Grange.”
“She didn’t?”
“No. And that’s why I have to marry Jeremy.” She gripped the lapels of his coat. “I can’t stay here. I can’t. I’m not a good enough person for that. I’ll go mad if I stay, and if I don’t go mad, then one day I’ll say something to her I shouldn’t, and Magnus must take her side.”
Crispin stroked a hand over her head. “But him?” He spoke in a low voice. “The man’s not worthy of you.”
“You don’t know that.” She pushed away from him. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
He followed her to the very rear of the lawn but needed another step to come even. They were off the path, both of them moving quickly.
She spoke before he’d caught up. “Magnus likes him.”
“Magnus tolerates him because he thinks you love the man.”
She put out a hand to slow him down. “Oh, do watch where you put your feet. You’ll step—”
“What?”
She stopped walking. But Crispin, being a tall man and in the middle of a step, moved those few inches more. She cried out. Too late. His foot came down on the grass. “Look what you’ve done.”
“What? What have I done?” He followed her downward glance with a puzzled expression.
“You’ve killed it.” Tears burned in her eyes and choked off her words until she managed to swallow. “There’s little enough beauty here anymore. Eleanor is determined to ruin it all, and now you’re destroying what’s left for me to enjoy. There’s nothing else here I love. Not any more.”
“I’m sorry.” It was plain he’d no idea what he’d done. None at all.
“You’re not.” She stared at the crocus that he’d smashed into the dirt, and all she could see was her future if she stayed. She knelt by the flattened plant. “You’re not sorry at all. Don’t pretend you are. This one’s managed to escape her and now you’ve crushed it, and it’s dead.”
Crispin crouched across from her and pushed away her hand. He built up a wall of mud and propped the flower on it. “There. Perhaps like the rowan it will recover with some benign neglect.”
“It won’t.” Those were tears thickening her voice, but she met his gaze head on. “If it survives the day, Eleanor will find it, and she’ll tell Hob to dig it up. If she doesn’t kill it with her own bare hands. That’s all she ever does, murder what I love and all the time she makes it impossible to be angry at her.”
He frowned at the mud on his gloves. With a hard sigh, he pulled them off and dropped them in his coat pocket. Then, both of them still bent over the plant, he tapped the underside of her chin. “I’m sorry I was clumsy and trod on your flower. I’m sorry Eleanor
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