Painted the Other Woman

But what if my mistake is the opposite one?

The thought hung blazing in her mind.

What if my mistake is to let go of a man I should never let go? A man I should clutch to me and hold tight in my arms?

A man it would be—will be—an agony to lose?

Her eyes held to the figure striding away from her, getting further and further away. The air in her lungs seemed to turn to granite. Impossible to breathe. Impossible.

‘Wait!’ The word tore from her, freeing her breath. ‘Athan! Wait!’

He stopped. Stopped dead. Froze. Then, as she stood, heart hammering in her chest, he turned.

She didn’t speak, didn’t cry out again. She had no thoughts, or words, or breath. She started forward, stumbling at first over the uneven ground, then found her balance, running now, faster and yet faster. The wind whipped the haze to her eyes, blinding her, but it didn’t matter. She knew where she was going. Knew it with every fibre of her being. Knew the only place she would ever want to be.

He caught her as she reached him. Caught her in an embrace that swept her off the ground, swept her round and round as his arms wrapped her to him. She was crying, sobbing, but it didn’t matter—nothing mattered. Nothing at all would ever matter—only this … this.

Being in his arms.

Loving him.

Loving him so, so much!

He was saying her name. Over and over again. Kissing her hair, clutching her to him. She was crying, and then she was laughing, and he was lowering her down so she could feel the ground beneath her feet again, but her arms were still wrapped around him so tightly, so close she would never let him go—never let him go … ?.

‘Oh, my darling—my darling one!’

Was that her speaking or him? It didn’t matter—nothing mattered but this. The joy surging through her, the love …

Then he was loosening his arms around her, cupping her upturned face with his hands, his eyes blazing down into hers.

All bleakness was gone.

Only love—blazing.

And slowly, beneath the towering tor, which had no power to mock what stood so far beyond the power of time, circled by the ghosts of those who had lived and loved here so long ago, he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her.

‘This is love,’ he said. ‘This is my love for you. For all that I did to you, this is why I cannot regret it. Because it gave you to me.’ He took a painful breath, his eyes full. ‘I didn’t realise what it was … what was happening to me … until I lost you. Lost you, my dearest one, over and over again. So many times. I lost you when I said those cruel, denouncing words to you. Lost you when, eaten by jealousy of Ian, I chased you down here. I wanted to grab you back like a spoilt child deprived of what he wanted. I lost you when you threw the truth about yourself in my face at that nightmare dinner. Lost you when you walked up to me and vented all your anger for what I’d thought about you. Lost you over and over and over again.’ His hands cupping her face pressed more urgently. ‘And with each loss it hammered home to me more what was happening. That I was falling in love with you.’

He shuddered, and she felt his pain and clung to him more closely.

‘Falling in love with you … even as I was losing you … over and over again … ‘

She gave a little cry, kissed him again to obliterate the pain she saw in him.

‘I feared loving you,’ she said ‘Feared it so much. When I saw you sometimes on St Cecile, looking at me when you thought I couldn’t see you, you looked so … so remote. I thought it was because you knew I was falling for you when you only wanted something passing that would end when we returned. That’s what I thought when you said you needed to speak to me. I was steeled for it—ready for you to tell me it was over. I had the strength to bear that.’

Her expression changed. ‘But when you threw at me what you did—oh, God, I didn’t have the strength for that. How could I have? What you hurled at me—what I thought you were accusing me of—I could not defend myself against that. Because I knew … knew that what I’d wanted so much was to be taken into my father’s family, not to be rejected by them any more. But you made me see it was impossible—that I was just a sordid little secret from Ian’s father’s past … ‘

&nb

sp; Athan groaned and held her away from him, only the better to talk to her. His hands slipped to her shoulders.

‘I would never have objected to you for that reason alone. Yes, Ian’s mother suffered—but that was not your fault. How could it be? Nothing has been your fault. Only mine.’ His voice was heavy. ‘Only mine.’

She heard the self-accusation in his voice and hated it.

‘No.’ Her negation was fierce. ‘I will not let you say that. I will not let you … or me … look backwards now. I let anger blind me—blind me into rejecting you.’ She clutched him suddenly, clinging to him urgently. ‘Oh, I so nearly let you walk away from me. Don’t ever, ever let me be so blind again!’