Garth glanced at her, a slight smile rising to his lips. In the moonlight, he thought again that she resembled a fawn, delicate, delicate and innocent, and yet… Was she as innocent as she looked?
“Does Wistmere mean so little to you that you would just walk away from your inheritance?” He didn’t wait for her to reply, but hurried on. “Pity that Mistress Belwood doesn’t share your sentiments. I shall yet have to play the scoundrel.”
With her heart scarcely beating, Katherine turned to face him. Had she misread all his silent dark stares? She was sure they were signs of reaching out for understanding from a lonely, bitter man. She looked intensely at him and realized that she had been wrong, that her heart had betrayed her. She was no better than May-Jewel with her fascination for Alex.
“So, you do intend to cast us out,” she replied as she pulled her elbow free of his hold and resumed the walk.
“Well, after all, it’s my right,” he said without emotion. After a moment he added, “Though I’m not sure that I would. We shall have to wait for Jameson to arrive to decide your fate. But you didn’t answer me. Could you so freely give Wistmere up at the first obstacle that comes along?”
She glared at him. “You, sir, are more than just an obstacle. And whether I could or couldn’t give up my birth right is unimportant. You’ll make that decision for me. But then why should I cling to Wistmere? It’s naught but stone built on misery and heartache. Its dark corridors sometimes actually reek with evil.”
“The manor was built during an evil time, a time of rebellion and secret alliances. It has a dark history…”
“Mister Craig,” Katherine interrupted, staying her steps. “I don’t really care to hear about the history of Wistmere. I believe it’s structured on broken hearts. Yet I feel Robert owes it to me for all the unhappiness that he caused my mother, and I shall accept it as my home for as long as I can. If it’s not to be mine, I shall return to my previous vocation without many regrets.” She turned and walked away from him, ending the conversation.
“Without many regrets?” he repeated softly. Garth followed in silence until they reached the gazebo. The moon shone through the trees and its light flooded the garden.
Katherine peered at the profile of the man as he moved beside her. He didn’t look Scottish. His classic features were more like an artist’s attempt to create the perfect face, blocked and bold. It was a strong handsome face framed with thick, black, untrained hair that spilled over his forehead. But as man is only ten percent image and ninety percent what lies beneath, Katherine wondered what lay hidden in his heart. Why did he treat her so in the cottage? Was it his intent to belittle her, to keep her in her place, to let her know by his aggression that she wasn’t born a lady? In spite of his motives, she was drawn to him. Yet it seemed clear to her that Garth wanted only the estate.
A cool breeze engulfed her, and she thought to return to the manor. But as she started to move from his side, Garth firmly took her by the wrist and indicated that he wanted her to sit. She relented.
“Just as all roads lead to Rome,” he brooded, “at Wistmere, all paths seem to lead to this unattractive structure.”
Frowning, Katherine remarked, “The way you say ‘Wistmere’ sounds as if you hate it.”
“Hate it and love it,” he quickly replied. “I hate what this place has stolen from me, yet I love the memories of the happier times.” He toyed with the infant tendrils of a vine that had wound its way up the post. His gaze encompassed the structure. “My mother had this gazebo built when I was small to keep me from tumbling into the well beneath it.”
The leaves of a silhouetted aspen whispered over the distant call of a bird. Garth paused, listening to the twilight. When again he spoke, his voice was cold. “My mother was murdered in that manor by the man who gave me life.”
Katherine held her breath. In all the talk about Lady Edythe’s death, no one seemed to have given any thought as to how Garth felt when he lost her. His broad shoulders drooped as if the weight of the memories were, at last, too heavy to bear.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured and, indeed, she was.
“I apologize for the term relating to my mother’s death but that’s how I see it.”
“You needn’t apologize. But you mustn’t let the memory of her be soiled by hate either.”
“I don’t need to tell you that my father was a selfish and immoral man. His lust for women was like a dying man’s thirst, never quenched. But you know that, don’t you? You know how his possessions were allotted just so much time and space in his life but never loved. He was more my mother’s jailer than her husband. And when he couldn’t be here, he had Brice or one of the other servants watch her night and day. Mother became an unhappy woman, and she cried often when she thought I couldn’t hear her.”
Garth turned to hide his face in the night shadows, and Katherine waited silently for him to continue.
“The last night of her life, they were arguing in father’s chambers. Though my ear was pressed against the door, I was unable to distinguish clearly what was being said, although I heard my name spoken often. Then I heard her scream, and Mother flew from the room. Father charged after her. When he saw me, he knocked me against the wall. As I lay stunned on the floor, I heard her shriek. By the time I had reached the stairs,
