Jeremy buried his face in his hands, his shoulders quaking with silent sobs, his heart shattered. Could he really do nothing to help Alys? Was he to stand back and allow her to hang? Walter had said he would catch Jeremy, but he’d said nothing about catching Alys. He only wanted to make sure the family wasn’t dragged into an embarrassing and damaging trial. He’d keep Jeremy out of it, but the price was Alys’s life.
Wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, Jeremy pushed back the chair and strode from the study, his shoulders set in rigid lines of determination. He needed to calm down and think things through rationally. He was no longer a little boy stuck up a tree. He was a grown man, and grown men fought for those they loved.
Chapter 64
Nicole
I tore my gaze away from the screen when there was a soft knock on the door. “Who is it?” I called, annoyed by the interruption.
“It’s Kyle.”
I smiled and walked to the door to let him in.
“You missed lunch,” he said, looking at me with concern. “Are you all right? Or were you just caught up and didn’t want to lose your train of thought?”
“The latter,” I replied, grinning. He understood.
“I got you something.” He brought his arm out from behind his back and handed me a plate containing two warm scones with tiny pots of clotted cream and strawberry jam. “Lisa just took these out of the oven. You can call down for a pot of tea,” he suggested.
“Only if you share these with me,” I said.
“No one has ever had to twist my arm to eat a scone,” Kyle said as he set the plate on the desk next to my laptop.
I called down and asked for tea to be brought to the room, while Kyle settled in a chair before the hearth.
“How’s it going?” he asked.
I sat down in the other chair and stared into the flames. “It’s going well. I have everything I need.”
“Do you?” Kyle asked.
I outlined everything I now knew, including Jonah Hargreaves’ findings, and watched Kyle’s face shift from polite interest to what looked inexplicably like dismay.
“I have my story,” I said, wondering what had changed. “I’m ready to write it.”
“Nicole, can we skip tea and go for a walk? I need to talk to you, but I prefer to do it away from the house.”
I nodded. Kyle had been affectionate and passionate last night. And there had been no awkwardness between us this morning when we had breakfast together. Granted, he never spoke of the future or what would happen once we left the retreat, but I didn’t really expect him to. We’d known each other for a mere five days. If he started making promises, I’d be wary of him, unsure whether I should take him seriously. But something had obviously changed. Why did he suddenly seem so wary, so remote?
“Of course,” I said. “I’ll just ask Lisa to hold that tea.”
Grabbing my coat, I followed Kyle out the door, down the stairs, and out the front door. We walked toward the reservoir in near silence, our gazes fixed on the path before us. I felt an odd sense of relief when we finally reached the shore. Whatever this was, I wanted to get it over with. In my heart, I knew this wasn’t going to be a pleasant conversation. I could already guess what Kyle was about to say. This has been a fun interlude, but he wasn’t looking for a relationship and hoped there’d be no hard feelings. He could have told me that in my room. At least I could have had a cup of tea and a scone afterwards to make myself feel better.
I stopped and gazed out over the reservoir. The late afternoon sun glinted off the still water, while fluffy clouds scuttling across the slate-blue sky cast shadows onto the surface, giving the impression of something dark moving beneath. The air was still, the forest quiet. I looked toward the tower of St. Botolph’s. The water had risen a few inches after the hard rain of the previous night, and the lower half of the bell was now submerged. A few more rainy days and the tower would vanish from view, like it had never been there at all.
Tearing my gaze away from the jutting structure, I turned to Kyle, silently inviting him to speak. He looked worried.
“Are you going to tell me, or do I have to guess?” I asked, hoping he’d spare me that, at least.
“Your story is incomplete,” he said, surprising me once again.
“This is about my story?” I asked, wondering what on earth had got him so worked up. Why did he suddenly care what I was going to write?
“It didn’t end with the hanging,” Kyle said.
“How do you know?” I asked, gaping at him.
“Because I’m descended from Alys Bailey,” Kyle said, looking at me guiltily.
“What exactly are you playing at, Kyle?” I exclaimed, now really upset.
“Please, let me explain,” Kyle said.
“Explain what? About how you lied to me? How you led me to believe you were helping me with my research when you knew all along how this story ends? Was it just about getting laid? Surely there are easier ways to get a woman into bed,”
