Had he just... complimented her? Had her brother ever complimented her artistry before?
“You’ve always been second to none.” He turned to face her. “And I’ve always been jealous of my little sister’s talent. I’ve finally grown up enough to admit it.”
“I’ve always been jealous,” she admitted. “You got everything I ever wanted, and you didn’t even have to try.”
“Didn’t have to try?” He let out a choking laugh. “I barely saw my own bedchamber, from spending every hour of every day in the shop, hunched over the work bench, trying again and again to halfway execute techniques that came to you naturally.”
“Then why did Father bequeath the shop to you instead of me?” Her nails dug into her palms. “Why didn’t he leave it to both of us equally?”
“Because we’re not equal, Angel.” Luther gave a soft chuckle. “Father saw that I put in the time, that I would dedicate my life to the shop if need be. And he saw you were meant for greater things.”
Her throat tightened. “But you... You were so dreadful about me moving to Cressmouth...”
“I envied you.” His eyes held hers. “But the real reason I didn’t want you to go was because you’re my sister. I was afraid if you left, I’d never get you back. That you’d be lost to me forever.”
Her eyes pricked with heat.
“I’m not lost, big brother.” She stepped closer. “I’m right here.”
He wrapped her in a tight embrace. “Do you forgive an old fool?”
“Do you forgive a younger and prettier one?” she mumbled into his lapel.
Luther laughed and let her go. “I did improve, you know. You should see the shop now. This spring, I may have to employ even more nieces and nephews.”
“That’s wonderful.” A lightness filled her. “And I will be able to see it. As of today, I’m free to go where I please.”
He stepped back in surprise. “You’d leave Cressmouth?”
“Only for a holiday,” she admitted. “The first one I’ll take will be to come and see you.”
He cocked a brow. “Will you be arriving on the arm of a certain Scotsman?”
Her joy dimmed.
“No.” She pulled her muffler off the rack and wrapped it about her head and neck methodically. “I wouldn’t depend on that.”
Her brother frowned. “Did something happen?”
She shoved her arms into the sleeves of her pelisse. “He wanted me to give up everything I care about or worked hard for, to go traveling from town to town with him. To have no home or shop or family or stability.”
“And he became enraged when you pointed out that was the last thing you’d ever want to do?” Luther guessed.
“Not at all.” She fastened her buttons. “He said it was no problem for me to stay here. He’d visit me every Christmas, just like you do.”
Luther narrowed his eyes. “Should I punch him?”
“You should not punch him.” She looped her arm through her brother’s. “You won’t see him again, anyway. He never returns to the same place twice.”
“But you said he would have. For you.” Luther pushed open the door. “What did he say when you proposed a more reasonable compromise?”
The icy wind smacked Angelica in the face.
“Er,” she said.
Had she proposed a reasonable compromise? Or had her anger and hurt feelings caused her to turn him away, without even attempting to fight for the love blossoming between them?
“I see,” Luther said. “Well, I’m certain you know best.”
“I really don’t,” she mumbled. “I’m a disaster.”
“I know,” he assured her. “I was just being supportive.”
She elbowed him in the side.
“You might be the better craftsman,” he said, “but after nine years of marriage, I know a thing or two about love.”
“Who said anything about love?” she muttered.
“Your face did.” He slanted her a look. “When you love someone, you find a way to be together.”
Her throat prickled. “He’s already gone.”
Because she’d told him to leave.
Because he’d tossed off two ridiculous options, and she hadn’t suggested any.
“Is he?” Luther let go of her arm.
Angelica glanced in the direction he indicated.
There, in the castle’s open doorway, was Jonathan.
Her thoughts muddled.
“He’s not here for me,” she babbled. “I’d invited him to church and to dinner, and he probably felt honor-bound to come...”
“Uh-huh.” Luther took an exaggerated step aside. “Nothing to do with you at all.”
She couldn’t see Jonathan’s face.
His body was silhouetted by the warm light spilling from the castle. It was exactly like that first moment she’d glanced up from her work to discover a friendly Scot in her shop. Back then, she had thought nothing of yet another tourist passing through. But they were no longer strangers. Now when he left, he would take a piece of her soul with him.
Heart pounding, she closed the distance between them.
The lover’s locket she’d given him was affixed to his left lapel. It hung open. The brooch was no longer empty. Her own eye gazed out at her. Sketched with pen; painted with watercolor. A bold pronouncement pinned to his chest that his heart was spoken for.
It belonged to her.
“I’m sorry I let you down,” he said, before she could say the same. “I’ve been so used to my life being a certain way that I failed to envision what a new way would look like. What it should look like.” He took a deep breath. “I’ll stop.”
She frowned. “Stop what?”
“Everything. I’ll stop running, I’ll stop traveling, I’ll stop...” He gestured helplessly. “I’ll stop being afraid. Or at least, I won’t let fear stop me. I love you, Angelica. No place would ever be home without you in it.”
She took a breath. Compromise. Love was worth it. “You adore travel just as much as I adore crafting jewelry. I didn’t want you to stop being you. I wanted us to be us. For more than twelve days a year.”
He touched
