The day is typical of the isles in the autumn—cool, crisp weather and, when the sun comes out from behind the clouds, a sight to behold.
We hike up the side of a large hill that once rose to greater heights than the castle behind us. I should have chosen an easier trek, and not because Della can’t handle the terrain, but because the boots are new and I should be more considerate.
“Just a few more minutes and we’ll reach the peak,” I say, gripping the picnic basket with one hand and her hand in the other.
“I thought you’d give me a good workout, but that was nothing.” She grins at me, her hair all windblown and her cheeks rosy. With her pale skin and light eyes glowing in the midmorning sun, she looks like the fae in the stories my mother used to tell me at bedtime.
“Challenge accepted,” I say gruffly. I want to be at ease with her, want to go back to yesterday morning when nothing intruded into our space—not our family, politics, or journalists. “Here we are.”
She takes in the view of the ocean and a large shoreline in the distance. My heart aches as I stare at my homeland, imagining myself there, walking amongst the ancient pathways and playing in the ruins.
That ache spreads to my fingers and toes until I’m nearly numb and vibrating with longing at the same time to visit my parents’ graves.
“That’s where you’re from, isn’t it?” she asks softly.
A stupid lump forms in my throat, so I set the picnic basket down and force myself to take a deep, sustaining breath.
“They didn’t allow us to stay for the funeral.” I hear her throat catch. “They didn’t allow us to say goodbye. We had to leave, immediately…or else.”
“Oh my God.” She squeezes my hand.
“I don’t know what happened during their final moments. I don’t know if they asked for us, if they suffered…” I blow out a breath. It’s been so long, but seeing my island makes it feel like yesterday. “I was with…a friend. We’d spent the night together and palace guards burst into my room. Theo and the twins were ushered after them, confused looks on their faces. I was so bloody embarrassed to be caught bare-assed in front of everyone that nothing made sense at first.
“In any case, Davies struts in, pleased as anything. Beaumont is last to arrive and he’s got bruises on his face and his knuckles, like he’s just been in a fight. I didn’t understand what was going on. Didn’t know why the entire world needed to know that I’d slept with…well, let’s just say someone I shouldn’t have.”
I tear my gaze away from the Isle to look at my wife. “I was no angel…and at times I was exactly like my parents.”
“You don’t have to apologize for your past or who you were. I know who you are now.” There is no judgment on her face, only understanding.
“They told us we had no choice but to go, just pack up our shit and leave. No explanation beyond the fact that there had been a political coup and our parents were dead.” I laugh mirthlessly. “Do you know that Davies had the immitigable gall to swear he would find my parents’ murderers and bring them to justice?”
“I thought you said they were caught.”
I shake my head. “After my conversation with Davies last night, I had to get the truth from Beaumont. He has more connections than I to the Isle. He still has family here, you see.”
“What did he say?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
“He said that it was lie. That…God, I can’t believe I’m telling you this. I can’t—it’s ludicrous, but Beaumont wouldn’t lie to me. He never has.” I swallow the bile that rises in my throat. “There was no coup.”
Della’s nose wrinkles. “I’m…I don’t understand.”
“Apparently, my father slept with the wrong woman—she was too young and from a very influential family. She became pregnant and confessed all to her brother, who was one of the queen’s advisers. He told her to talk to my father…but when she confronted him, he had no idea what her name was. Unfortunately, that was the wrong thing to admit, so she shot him, and when my mother found him and called for help, she shot her as well and then turned the gun on herself,” I say flatly. “Turns out my parents were both sleeping with her—sometimes at the same time.”
I brace myself for the disgust that is bound to follow my confession, wait for her to drop my hand, demand a divorce or annulment, and march back to the castle.
“Why would Davies keep that a secret?” she asks. Not exactly what I expected, but…
“I don’t take your meaning?”
“It makes no sense for him to keep a secret that basically reinforces everything he says is true about your entire family.” She shakes her head. “There has to be more to the story.”
“I wish there were, but Beaumont witnessed nearly all of it.”
She gives me an odd look. “He was there but didn’t get shot?”
“Beaumont was with my mother when the first shot rang out.”
Her odd look turns into a blank one.
I flush hot even as a cold embarrassment invades my body. “As in they had been fucking and Beaumont was asleep in her bed.”
“Oh.” Her eyes round. “Gotcha. Still…something’s not quite right.”
“Yeah, my entire family is fucked up. Royally so, and I probably owe Davies an apology. Who the hell knows what would have happened had that gotten out?”
She lets go of my hand and I want to snatch it back, but if she needs to leave, then I’ll allow it. Suddenly, Della’s arms come around me and she buries her face in my coat. Automatically, I crush her to me, breathing in her familiar floral scent.
“I’m so sorry, Colin. I’m sorry your parents were killed, sorry for that girl who went crazy…sorry you had to make sacrifices and move to North Carolina. I’m sorry about Aiden and Pierce’s momma, too. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been to deal with her death as well.”
Fuck my life. Fuck all the lies, all the well-kept secrets.
Della’s sorrow is genuine. She lost her own parents, both to cancer, and, God help me, both to something far more sympathetic. No one feels sorry for adulterers. They talk. They gossip, and some even suggest that they get what they deserve.
I can only imagine what would have happened had Davies revealed the truth, which begs the question—why would he? Now I feel more confused than ever.
“Did you love their mother?” she asks.
“I did.” Not a lie. I loved my mother, with all her faults, more than any other woman I’d ever met. Until the day I realized how much I love Della.
“You know if you ever want to talk about her, I’m totally okay with it. I don’t mind sharing things with the boys, either. Tressie did that for me, you know. She kept my mom’s memory alive and I want to help you do that for the boys.”
I stare at her in awe. “Why would you do such a thing?”
“It’s what you do when you love someone more than you love yourself.” She smiles. “You have to know I love Aiden and Pierce.”
“That I do.” I hold her tightly in my arms, wishing we could stay just like this forever. “You are beyond words, love.”
She shivers as the sun hides behind rather ominous-looking clouds.
“Can we go to the hunting lodge now? It’s freezing.”
Thunder booms and lightning cracks all around us. The bottom drops out and rain pours down in thick sheets.
I grab her hand and search for the nearest shelter. Over the next hill is a stone and glass house that I had planned to save for a visit on our last day.
“Over there. Do you see it?”
She nods. “Let’s make a run for it.”
We take off, slipping and sliding along the way. The rain beats down harder, rivulets of water snaking under my light jacket and down my back. Della’s hair is plastered to her head and her pants have gone from light gray in color to nearly black.
I race up a small flight of stairs, Della following me closely. Yanking at the door handle, I am relieved yet not astonished to find it unlocked. It’s not unheard of for buildings like these to be open at all times for travelers to take shelter.
Like now.
It’s dark inside, but a simple flip of a switch makes the entire room light up.
“So pretty,” Della says as she cranes her head back to look at the domed ceiling. “It’s like something out of Pride and Prejudice.”
Water puddles on the floor beneath us.
“We’re sopping wet.” I remove my jacket and lay it over a marble bench. “Too bad there’s no fire.”
“Yeah, too bad.” Della’s teeth begin to chatter.
I have to warm her up. “Care to explore a hidden passageway while we wait out the storm?”
She nods. “Anything to warm up.”
I move closer to the faux fireplace and push on the wreath of flowers in the middle. The mantle swings back to reveal a well-lit hallway.
“After you, love.”
She eyes me. “Have you been here before?”
I wink at her. “Only as a child, but where we will go is for adults only.”
“Tell me something good about your parents,” she says and I pause.
“What?”
“Tell me something good and romantic, like how they met.” She places her hand on my arm. “I think it will help if you do.”
“How?” I’m bloody brilliant—a veritable one-man soliloquy with only one-word questions.
“Ever since your parents passed, all you have been reminded of and had shoved down your throat is how awful they are. How selfish and greedy and how no one wants y’all anymore. It might sound silly, but I think what’s done is done, and it’s time for you to remember what was good about them. There had to be something because, honestly”—she smiles, her eyes earnest and clear—“you are one of the best men I know.”
My heart slams against my chest at her compliment. I do not deserve her, but I refuse to give her up.
Ever.
“They fell in love at my mother’s coronation. She was young and beautiful.” I resume my walk and feel Della keep in step beside me. “My dad was nearly as young and he was thought to be very handsome.”
“You look exactly like him, don’t you?”
It’s not an odd statement for either of us to make since she’s never seen a photograph of my parents—we’ve never hung pictures of our parents on the walls of St. Claire.
“The resemblance is uncanny, according to Beaumont.” Our footsteps alternate between echoing and squeaking against the floor. “My mother said that my father rode into the palace courtyard on a black horse. He was holding a dozen sunflowers, her favorite flower, and he’d paid her favorite band to serenade her.”
“That is pretty romantic,” Della says.
“The entire country thought so, too. He sang along with them and climbed up the trellis that led to her balcony, leaping over the railing and kissing her. She kissed him right back, of course. Everyone thought the curse of the Scandalous Sinclairs was over—that they finally had a queen and a consort who could fall in love and stop acting so selfishly.”
“Who says they didn’t?”
“I don’t doubt they fell in love with each other, or even with future lovers. The problem is that they had no love left for their children. They had nothing left for us at all.”
“So much for cheering you up,” Della says glumly. “I’m sorry I took you down that path.”
The hallway starts to expand and the cold air begins to warm. “I went willingly down your path. Now tell me what you think of the one I led you down.”