He must go, although she loathed admitting it. Big, echoing Thorncroft Hall was too small to keep her apart from Joss, if they remained alone together under its roof.
Chapter 8
Joss strapped the last of his bags to Emilia’s saddle and gave her a pat to apologize. “I’m sorry, old girl. I know you’re not eager to be on your way. I’m not either.”
She whickered in response and bless her generous heart, followed readily enough when he led her out of her stall and into the aisle through the center of the stables.
Ahead, he could see the lowering late afternoon sky through the open doors. Maggie was right about the weather. The smell of snow lay sharp on the air.
Then a sight more dangerous by far than any bad weather appeared in the doorway.
“How is Emilia’s leg?” Maggie asked, coming into the stables but keeping her distance. Like him, she’d changed into dry clothes.
Joss hadn’t seen the woman who haunted his every thought since they’d returned to the house after skating. He’d gone upstairs to pack his few things, and she’d disappeared into the kitchens, he assumed. Downstairs anyway.
He’d guessed she avoided farewells. If she felt the way he did, like someone scraped out his liver with a rusty pitchfork, he couldn’t blame her.
By God, he didn’t want to go. And that reluctance was yet another sign that he must. And quickly.
His mother would be damned proud of him. If he ever told her about the lost, enchanted days in this hidden valley. Which of course he never would.
“She’ll carry me as far as the village,” he said, although he feared he might be too optimistic. Emilia had stopped limping yesterday, but she was a long way from full fitness.
“You could take Bob.”
“Then questions would be asked.”
“Oh, that’s right.” A wry smile curled Maggie’s lips and made him want to kiss her. Hell, he always wanted to kiss her. Now he’d actually done it, he was hungrier than ever. “I’m not very good at romantic intrigue.”
“The weather’s closing in.” And the night. What he’d give to be looking forward to lying in a nice warm bed beside Maggie, instead of tramping through a snowstorm. “I must go.”
“Yes, you must.” She didn’t move.
Nor did he. “I wondered whether you’d decided not to say goodbye.”
“I wouldn’t be such a coward.” Her shaking hand held out a small bundle. “I prepared some food. And I put a flask of Dr. Black’s best brandy in there, too.”
“Thank you.” Joss took the bundle and turned to pack it into his saddlebag with his sketchbooks. He had a few ideas for modernizing the house. But mostly he wanted to leave it as it was. It was lovely and unique and unspoiled. Like the woman who lived in it.
“I will come back, I swear,” he said into Emilia’s flank.
“I hope so,” Maggie said, and at last he heard her voice wobble.
It shouldn’t gratify him to know she grieved over his departure, but of course it did. When he rode away, he wanted her bawling her eyes out. He wanted her to cry until the triumphant day he galloped back down the drive and took her into his arms. That was how much of a bastard he was.
Joss turned to face her and immediately felt like a swine for wishing her unhappy. The misery in her expression twisted his
gut.
You’re leaving for her sake.
But the words rapidly lost any power. So rapidly that if he didn’t leave right now, he wouldn’t.
“There’s something I need to do first,” he said with sudden decision.
She frowned at him in puzzlement. “What?”
“This.”