‘Madeleine was standing there, just where you are. The tray with the spirits was turned over at her feet, the liquid soaking the carpet. She had a cut-glass decanter in her hand.’ He closed his eyes again and spoke without opening them. ‘I think she had been drinking directly from it. She was certainly drunk. I walked across.’ He moved as he spoke, blind, lost in the memory. ‘I tried to take the decanter from her and she swung it at me. It hit the side of my head and smashed.’ His left hand, fingers spread, speared into his hair. ‘And then
she must have panicked, I think. I tried not to hurt her, to take it from her gently, but I was half stunned. She swung it again and it hit my shoulder, cut down through my coat to the skin, and I fell.’
Kate glanced at the dark patch on the boards that endless scrubbing had not removed. She had been right. It was blood. Grant was still speaking, eyes still closed.
‘I think I was knocked out for a moment. When I came to there was blood everywhere and there was screaming and Charlie crying. For a moment I was back on the battlefield with the noise and the smoke and the dreadful smells…’ He stopped and opened his eyes. ‘You do not need to hear it all. The brandy had splashed all down Madeleine’s muslin gown, the carpet was already soaked. She must have staggered back towards the fire and her skirts caught. The carpet was ablaze. I crawled across, got Charlie and dragged him back. The door burst open and help was there, but it was too late for her.’
What to say? How terrible. How tragic. Poor woman. All so obvious and so meaningless. She would say what she thought, what concerned her, even if it was not the comforting platitudes that convention expected. ‘You know you did the right thing, don’t you? To go to Charlie and not to try to save Madeleine?’
‘Yes.’ Grant almost smiled at her. ‘Yes, I know. I only had so much strength, I was bleeding like a stuck pig and she was probably beyond saving, even if I had gone directly to her. I had to get the child to safety.’
‘Then, if you know that, accept it—’
‘What is the problem? The problem, my dear, is that while my rational brain accepts it while I’m awake, my dreaming mind does not, it seems. A policy of out of sight, out of mind has worked to an extent so far, but you are right, I cannot continue like that, ignoring the existence of this room, ignoring that night.’
He stood up and held out his hand to her. ‘Come, sweetheart. Let us go to bed, lock this door on the horrors of this room for another night.’
Chapter Sixteen
Grant kissed her, gently, sweetly, when they reached his bedchamber again. They shed their night robes and Kate climbed into bed beside him and lay on her stomach, her chin propped on her hands as she frowned at the harmless stack of pillows. ‘So, what do you want to do? Leave the door locked for ever?’
‘No. You are right, I cannot risk Charlie becoming curious.’ He began to play with the ends of her hair as it spilled across the sheets. ‘He is growing up and I need to deal with this for all our sakes.’
‘Let us be practical, then,’ Kate said, lifting her chin to look at him. He was stretched out, hands behind his head, the muscles of his upper arms and shoulders in strong relief. A wave of desire washed over her and she suppressed it. They could make love when this was decided. ‘Pull the house down?’ she suggested to shock him into suggesting a counter-solution.
‘Demolish it? Rather an extreme solution—besides, I am fond of all the rest of the old place, so is Charlie.’
‘Rip out those rooms, tear up the floorboards, get rid of the fireplace and everything in the bedchamber, put new dividing walls in to change the space completely.’
‘That would work,’ Grant said thoughtfully. ‘And what do I tell Charlie?’
‘Woodworm?’
‘That’s a lie.’
And Grant hates lies. ‘Tell him that the floor is dangerous. And it is. Dangerous to your peace of mind, dangerous to his if he ever sees it and asks what the marks of fire are, what that dark stain is.’
‘Clever.’
‘Of course.’ Kate said it smugly to make him laugh and, to her great relief, he did.
‘Come here.’ He hauled her up unceremoniously to lie on top of him. ‘Thank you. I was beginning to think I was losing my mind. A man ought to be able to cope with such things.’
‘Not everything, not horrors, not unless he is an unfeeling brute.’ She laid her cheek against his chest and blew gently into the dark hair, smiling as his nipples contracted tightly. ‘I think you feel more guilty because you did not love her.’ It was dangerous to talk of love. As soon as she used the word, she had a horrid feeling that Grant might think she was fishing for him to say that he loved her. Which of course he didn’t. Nor did she expect it. It was not as though…
‘Is that some feminine logic that escapes me?’
‘You cannot mourn her, only her unhappiness and the unhappiness she caused you. You dare not think too much about her in case you find you are relieved at her death.’
Beneath her the long, hard body had become very still. Kate could feel the thud of his heart, the slight rise and fall of his breathing. Then Grant said, ‘You hit hard, do you not, honest Kate? You drag out thoughts that I had not even acknowledged.’
‘I like you,’ she said and raised her head to look deep into the troubled green eyes, half shielded by dark lashes. ‘I hope I am your friend as well as your wife and your lover. Who can be honest if not your friends?’
‘My closest male friends do not suggest such things.’
‘Because they are male. Does Alex confide how much he loves Tess? Does Cris admit that he is in love?’
‘Is he?’ Surprise seemed to jerk Grant out of his inward-looking thoughts.