Heaverlock Castle looked purple in the sunset and as always, the inaccessible parapet drew her eyes. Silent. Enduring. Inviting her to swallow the pain as she had so many times before. Anjuli stopped the car and narrowed her eyes at the parapet. A different sort of desire rose in her gut.
Purpose.
She was sick of silence and tired of sorrow; bone weary of unachievable dreams. If Rob thought she would give up on him then she would prove him wrong. She would fight his indifference the same way he had fought his cancer. With bravery. Persistence. The refusal to surrender.
Anjuli drove over the bridge and instead of continuing to Castle Manor, she left the car at the castle. Barefoot, she sprinted across the prickly grass, down and up the castle moat and along the south wall, stopping just shy of the entrance to the inner courtyard. She stared at the dark grey stone, focusing on every crack and depression at eye level. A lone ant made its leisurely way across the cracks and she let it pass unharmed. One must not pound on defenceless creatures.
Semi-ruined castles, however, are fair game.
Anjuli beat her fists against the wall just like she had in her dreams, ordering the stone to let her in. Instant physical pain spread from her palm to her elbows but she didn’t stop, wishing she had boots on so she could aim a few kicks also. She knew it was childish; she knew it looked crazy, but living in isolation had certain advantages, and yelling at a castle was one of them.
Finished with her attack, she turned around—and almost jumped out of her skin. Rob was standing about five feet behind her, watching her with a wary yet amused look on his face.
“You could use the entrance,” he suggested.
Flustered, she wiped her hands on her dress. “It’s more fun this way.”
“It’s demented and hard to watch.”
“Well, you could have told me you were there.”
“I was afraid you’d prefer a softer target.”
Wordlessly, Anjuli stared at him. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t stand here and pretend he hadn’t just turned down her marriage proposal in front of the entire village. Poetic justice at its finest.
Why had he come?
Oh. It must be the money she owed him. Of course, he wanted to know when he’d get paid. Don’t give me your heart, just give me your cash. Or maybe he’d come to inspect the fire damage and see if buying Castle Manor was still worth his while. Every ounce of common sense told her to cut her losses and sell him the house. Ah, well, since when was common sense one of her stronger traits? At some point a woman’s got to accept her deficiencies and work with what she has.
Anjuli did some quick thinking. She had another asset she could sell besides her manor, now that she knew she still possessed it. Only a few weeks ago singing for her supper would have seemed impossible. The idea still made her queasy, but maybe, just maybe, she could perform again if it meant keeping her manor.
“I’m not selling,” she said.
Rob’s eyebrows danced upwards. “And the fire damage? Even with the loan, the repairs will be expensive if your insurance doesn’t pay out.”
She glanced toward the house. “I’ve come into some unexpected funds.”
“A debt repaid?”
From Rob’s tight expression he must be thinking of Brendan, but Anjuli pictured Mac’s sad face as she’d handed her the cheque. “I guess you could call it that.”
Neither of them spoke, as if breaking the silence would somehow destroy the tenuous calm between them. Rob looked toward the bridge and out over the manor. “Ben told me Angus Buchanan is being charged with the theft. I’m glad.”
“He’ll probably say it was my fault for flaunting my Englishness in his country.”
“Angus is an ignorant git.”
Why were they talking about things that had no meaning? Would he say nothing about her public declaration of love or her proposal? She wanted to breach the distance between them with a kiss, force him to talk to her, but maybe she had to be the patient one this time. The one who waited. She had a lot to answer for and there was so much wrong with her no number of counselling sessions or self-help books would help, but perhaps, in time, Rob would allow her to make up for it.
“I’ll guess it’s time for a dramatic exit,” Anjuli said, and forced herself to walk away.
Rob stopped her, swamping her hand in his palm. “I was waiting for you.” He turned her hand over, tsking at the angry red marks where the stone had dug into her skin. “Do you love me, lass?”
His eyes were bright with the raw, naked intensity she remembered, an emotion he’d once lavished on her and which she had discarded so stupidly. “So much it hurts. God knows I didn’t want to love you—I didn’t want to feel that sort of fear ever again—but it seems that I can’t stop. I’m messed up and sometimes that means I do stupid, crazy things. And I’m so afraid I’ll lose you it makes me ill.”