Lookout.”
Color drained from her face. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She swallowed, then squeaked out, “Wh-what other prison?”
“The one in Elmira, New York.”
“Oh God, no.” She wilted, slipping from his grasp and sinking to her knees in the wet sand. A wave swept in and soaked her skirts. Yet, she merely sat there, silent and still as a pylon, letting the sea lap at her as she stared out over the water.
He blinked in confusion. What the hell? He expected her to be upset, but not this hopeless despair. He squatted beside her. “What is it, Kitty? What’s wrong?”
“I’m too late.”
Her forlorn tone stabbed his gut. He reached out and pulled her into his arms. “Shhh...” he whispered. “You’re not too late.”
Her reply was a soft sob. Warm tears dampened his shirtfront. He massaged her back, now rigid as a brick wall. “Don’t be upset. Lance is still alive.”
“H-he might’ve been alive...when he left here. But...”
“Lance is a lot stronger than you think. Look how long he survived at this prison.”
“It doesn’t matter how strong he is. Once he reaches Elmira, he’ll die...or wish he was dead.” She collapsed against him, her thin body wracked by vicious shudders.
He gave her a gentle squeeze. “Lance is not going to die, Kitty. You have to think positively.”
“You’re wrong. Let me go, Jack.” She pushed away from him and reached for the water. “Let the tide take me under.”
He yanked her back into his arms, his heart keeling over at her words. “Don’t talk like that.”
“Lance is dead. I might as well be, too.”
Where was that spitting she-cat he so admired? She should be ranting and raving, holding him at knifepoint and demanding he take her to Elmira. There was more to her story than she was letting on.
And it was high time he found out what.
Chapter Seven
Elmira . It was just as she feared all along. She hadn’t reached Lance in time. She’d failed. And he would pay the price with his life.
“Everything’s going to be fine, Kitty.”
Fine? Nothing would ever be fine again. A sob caught in her throat.
Jack’s embrace tightened, then he pushed to his feet with her cradled in his arms. She should protest, but God help her, she could barely draw a breath, much less speak. It was as if someone had tapped her veins and drained every ounce of strength from her body.
He carried her the short distance to their cottage, and once inside, lowered her onto the bed. She lay there, unable to move, limbs heavy as snow-heaped logs. How would she go on without Lance? He was her twin, her other half. They shared everything together. Life without him would be bleak and empty.
The sound of pouring water trickled into her misery, then a cool, damp cloth bathed her forehead. “Kitty, talk to me.”
She closed her eyes, refusing to meet his gaze. She didn’t deserve his kindness. She was a worthless piece of human flesh, just as Mr. Lawrence had said. Tears of guilt and despair spilled from beneath her lids.
Smooth cotton swabbed her cheek. “Don’t cry, honey.”
Don’t cry . He might as well ask the ocean tides to stop rising.
Bed ropes creaked as he sat beside her. “Look at me.”
“C-can’t.”
“Yes, you can.” He cupped her chin and tilted her head toward him. “Open your eyes, Kitty.”
His harsh tone goaded her to obey. She met his steady gaze.
“Would you like something? A glass of water? Wine?”
“I don’t need anything.” Not anymore.
His mouth flattened into a thin line. “What’s going on? Why are you so upset?”
She stuffed down a groan. Here it comes, the relentless digging, like a hound after a rabbit burrow.
“You were so determined to get here,” he continued. “Yet, now that you’ve learned Lance was moved to another prison, you’ve given up. Why?”
“I’ll never reach him in time.”
“In time for what?”
“Not what. Who.”
“Who then?”
She gave a half shrug. “It doesn’t
Color drained from her face. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She swallowed, then squeaked out, “Wh-what other prison?”
“The one in Elmira, New York.”
“Oh God, no.” She wilted, slipping from his grasp and sinking to her knees in the wet sand. A wave swept in and soaked her skirts. Yet, she merely sat there, silent and still as a pylon, letting the sea lap at her as she stared out over the water.
He blinked in confusion. What the hell? He expected her to be upset, but not this hopeless despair. He squatted beside her. “What is it, Kitty? What’s wrong?”
“I’m too late.”
Her forlorn tone stabbed his gut. He reached out and pulled her into his arms. “Shhh...” he whispered. “You’re not too late.”
Her reply was a soft sob. Warm tears dampened his shirtfront. He massaged her back, now rigid as a brick wall. “Don’t be upset. Lance is still alive.”
“H-he might’ve been alive...when he left here. But...”
“Lance is a lot stronger than you think. Look how long he survived at this prison.”
“It doesn’t matter how strong he is. Once he reaches Elmira, he’ll die...or wish he was dead.” She collapsed against him, her thin body wracked by vicious shudders.
He gave her a gentle squeeze. “Lance is not going to die, Kitty. You have to think positively.”
“You’re wrong. Let me go, Jack.” She pushed away from him and reached for the water. “Let the tide take me under.”
He yanked her back into his arms, his heart keeling over at her words. “Don’t talk like that.”
“Lance is dead. I might as well be, too.”
Where was that spitting she-cat he so admired? She should be ranting and raving, holding him at knifepoint and demanding he take her to Elmira. There was more to her story than she was letting on.
And it was high time he found out what.
Chapter Seven
Elmira . It was just as she feared all along. She hadn’t reached Lance in time. She’d failed. And he would pay the price with his life.
“Everything’s going to be fine, Kitty.”
Fine? Nothing would ever be fine again. A sob caught in her throat.
Jack’s embrace tightened, then he pushed to his feet with her cradled in his arms. She should protest, but God help her, she could barely draw a breath, much less speak. It was as if someone had tapped her veins and drained every ounce of strength from her body.
He carried her the short distance to their cottage, and once inside, lowered her onto the bed. She lay there, unable to move, limbs heavy as snow-heaped logs. How would she go on without Lance? He was her twin, her other half. They shared everything together. Life without him would be bleak and empty.
The sound of pouring water trickled into her misery, then a cool, damp cloth bathed her forehead. “Kitty, talk to me.”
She closed her eyes, refusing to meet his gaze. She didn’t deserve his kindness. She was a worthless piece of human flesh, just as Mr. Lawrence had said. Tears of guilt and despair spilled from beneath her lids.
Smooth cotton swabbed her cheek. “Don’t cry, honey.”
Don’t cry . He might as well ask the ocean tides to stop rising.
Bed ropes creaked as he sat beside her. “Look at me.”
“C-can’t.”
“Yes, you can.” He cupped her chin and tilted her head toward him. “Open your eyes, Kitty.”
His harsh tone goaded her to obey. She met his steady gaze.
“Would you like something? A glass of water? Wine?”
“I don’t need anything.” Not anymore.
His mouth flattened into a thin line. “What’s going on? Why are you so upset?”
She stuffed down a groan. Here it comes, the relentless digging, like a hound after a rabbit burrow.
“You were so determined to get here,” he continued. “Yet, now that you’ve learned Lance was moved to another prison, you’ve given up. Why?”
“I’ll never reach him in time.”
“In time for what?”
“Not what. Who.”
“Who then?”
She gave a half shrug. “It doesn’t
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