‘That’s exactly how it is. My aunt and uncle—they were amazing people and they did do their best. But they didn’t really want a child; they had their life exactly how they wanted it and they had plans. They had saved for years in order to go travelling and then retire to sunny climes. Instead they took me in, gave up their dream. For duty. To do the right thing. You are doing the same.’
Every word slammed into him as he tried to figure out the flaw in her argument, tried to work it out. ‘It isn’t like that.’
‘To me it is exactly like that. You see...’ She gave a tired smile. ‘I am not trying to be difficult. But now it feels to me as though I am second best. Again. A catalyst to sending someone’s life down an unwanted path. Again. I don’t think I can live the rest of my life like that.’
Still no words would come. He looked at her and his heart tore. ‘It wouldn’t be like that.’
Another shake of her head and then she rose, the weariness evident in her movement. ‘We’ll talk tomorrow. I’m too tired now to find a way out of this mess. I will sleep where I slept before. Goodnight, Cesar.’
All he wanted was to move over and take her in his arms, hold her and tell her it would be all right. But he couldn’t, knew it wasn’t all right. Knew he had to figure out a way to make it all right, if he could just subdue the emotions that crashed and tore through him, made thought impossible, were filling him with unfamiliar panic and loss of control.
So he watched her leave, before slamming his fist into the wall.
* * *
&nbs
p; Gabriella changed out of her going-away outfit, chosen with such care and excitement and now a garment she wished never to see again. Her movements were jerky, almost uncoordinated, as she dropped the jacket to the floor, a horrid, torrid reminder of what had started out the happiest day of her life and then degenerated into this. It would have been bad enough but what made the whole mess even worse was the fact that she loved Cesar.
Still loved him. What was she going to do? How could she spend the rest of her life with a man who loved someone else? A man who had given up his life for duty and relegated Gabi to the role of burden once again.
Her glance fell on her suitcase and the pain, the mortification intensified as she recalled the sleepwear she had brought with her. All designed for a honeymoon, for nights of decadence, for the great sex that had been on offer. Instead she pulled on jeans and a T-shirt, followed by more layers as she realised sleep would be impossible. Knew she couldn’t stay here, not tonight, not on her wedding night. The urge to run was overwhelming. Necessary. She glanced out of the window. The sky looked cloudless; she knew that snow was on the way.
She and Cesar had laughed, joked about a white Christmas, about being snowed in together with nothing to do.
But the snow was not due yet and even if it came she wouldn’t go far. Cesar had arranged for Ferron and Arya to be brought here so they could spend time riding on their honeymoon. She would ride just a little way, remain on royal grounds.
She added more layers, woollen ones to keep her warm, her waterproof fleece parka, woollen hat, scarf, gloves, warm riding boots, slipped out of her room and hesitated, knew that Cesar would veto this night-ride idea. But she didn’t care; she had to leave. Carefully she slipped down the back stairs.
Not letting herself have time to think, she carefully opened the front door a crack and slipped out and headed for the stables, entered and stood close by Arya, taking comfort from her uncomplicated nudge of greeting. Soon after she set off, her breath white in the dark cold air, the moonlight bright and cold on the path ahead.
Her brain hurt as she tried to see a way forward. She imagined the scandal if she ended the marriage now. Impossible. The headlines, the fallout would be too much. The only way possible would be to continue forward, trapped in a marriage she could no longer tolerate. Yet the idea of leaving Cesar wrenched her with hurt too, but better the pain now than a constant mind-numbing, soul-destroying ache of a one-sided love, in the knowledge he would have preferred a different life with a different woman but was stuck with her, putting a brave face on it. The mortification in itself stabbed her with a new pain.
The thoughts jostled and scrambled, hurled themselves round her brain. Was this how her mother had felt? All those years ago when she’d fled Casavalle, trying to decide if her marriage had been a mistake, if she could live with being a burden to the man she loved. As the thought added itself to the mix Gabi suddenly became aware of the swirl of snowflakes.
Dammit. She’d lost track of the time—come to that she’d lost track of her surroundings. A rookie mistake. Yet the snowflakes were welcome, a sudden dose of reality. What the hell was she doing? She was running away—as her mother had done. Fleeing from the problem, rather than trying to find a way to sort it out. Her mother had regretted her flight, had left it too late before she’d decided to go back. If Sophia had stayed, spoken with Vincenzo, everything could have been so different.
Gabi knew that her situation was different from her mother’s; Vincenzo and Sophia had been in love whereas Cesar didn’t love her. But why was she so sure that Cesar did love Amelia? His denial had been steadfast, but it had also been clear he was racked with emotion. Her thoughts fought for clarity but could find none, yet she knew with a bone-deep certainty that Sophia would tell her to turn, go back, that running solved nothing. If Cesar did love Amelia then they still had to work out the best way forward. Together. She tugged on the reins and Arya obeyed but the snow was falling thick and fast now and Gabi felt a sudden sensation of panic. Told herself to stay calm.
It was then that the horse gave a whinny of fright. Gabi saw the glow of eyes looking at her from behind a bush and then Arya reared.
* * *
Cesar paced the spare bedroom, up and down, driven by sheer anger with himself. For messing up so spectacularly, for hurting Gabi, for not being able to make it right. Dammit, that was what he did—he made things right. And instead he’d stood there like a fool, an idiot, a gibbering, incoherent ass.
He couldn’t leave it like this; he had to see her, talk to her. He pulled open his door and strode down the corridor, knocked on her door.
‘Gabriella. Let me in. It’s me.’ He knocked again, louder this time. ‘Please, Gabi. We need to talk.’
More silence. Cesar frowned. Gabriella was not the sort of woman to cower in her bedroom in silence. He tried the door, realised it wasn’t locked, hesitated and pushed it open. The room was empty. The bathroom door was open and she clearly wasn’t in there.
Turning, he made his way down to the lounge, the kitchen, and it was then that it struck him. She’d be in the stables. Sure he was correct, he left the castle and ran across the flagged courtyard, registered the swirl of snowfall; the cold flakes sizzled as he entered the familiar hay-scented warmth and looked round.
His heart skipped a beat as he realised Gabi wasn’t there. And neither was Arya. Panic impaled him—a swirl of snowflakes could transform into a storm up here on the Aguilarean mountains and Gabriella was out there somewhere.
Fear clutched his heart, squeezed it, pulled the strings until breathing became difficult. And it was in that moment that the truth dawned on him. He loved her; he loved his wife.
Then he moved. Raced around for provisions, wrapped himself up warm and then mounted Ferron. Set off on the route he assumed she would have taken. It was impossible to see any tracks, the snow coming down too hard now, the sheer cold combated by the adrenalin that propelled him forward, calling her name. Gabriella. Gabriella. Gabriella. The echo seemed to get lost in the increasing deluge of snowflakes that poured relentlessly from the sky, obliterating any signs of the path Gabriella might have taken.