Read Online Belmary House Book Two by Cassidy Cayman - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Cassidy Cayman
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who’d given up hope. But what had he been hoping for?
Those thoughts brought her back to grim wakefulness. She snuggled close to him, listening to his slow, deep breathing for a long time before falling asleep.
***
The next morning Ashford woke her, already dressed and looking harried.
“Are we leaving? Right now?” she asked, trying to shake away the sleep haze. “How long have you been up?”
“We’re not leaving yet,” he said. “I’ve been up for a while, took another look around.”
“Did you find anything?” she asked, thinking if she was as cryptic as he was, maybe she’d trick him into answering a question.
He looked pained, for the first time showing that he might truly be upset about everything that had happened.
“No,” he said dejectedly. “I didn’t.”
She wanted to scream, or shake him, but merely rolled out of bed and wrapped her arms around him. She was much better at getting dressed without his help, but still liked it, and after getting into her undergarments and gown with lightning speed, he did up the buttons she couldn’t reach, but without any lingering kisses, much to her disappointment.
The more she studied him, the clearer it became to her that it must finally be hitting him. The loss of his sister and Kostya, and the unsavory chore of having to do something about their remains had finally settled in. As terrible as it felt to her to leave it all behind, she was ready to suggest doing that, to spare him the agony it was sure to be. To spare herself as well. The thought of it gave her palpitations of anxiety, and she paused to marvel that she hadn’t gone off the deep end worse than she had after what they’d seen and done. If it was that bad for her, it had to be pure misery for Ashford.
Downstairs, he must have noticed her shivering, and nodded toward the dining hall.
“Go sit by the fire. I found tea leaves when I was out this morning. I’ll get water to brew you some, then we can … be on our way.”
They weren’t packed up yet, so she had to assume he meant to the church. Her stomach rolled over and the bereft look in his eyes only made it worse. He hurried over and kissed her forehead.
“Don’t start crying, if you can help it, please,” he said, squeezing her shoulder bracingly. “I won’t be able to bear it.”
She blinked and nodded. “It’ll be fine,” she said.
“It’ll be over soon,” he amended bitterly, looking past her out the window. His face fell into that look of confusion he’d had off and on since the day before. “I really thought, though …” he shook his head and shrugged. “I guess they didn’t lie after all.”
“What are you talking about?” she demanded, forgetting to be sensitive and caring.
She bit back the apology she was about to utter at his lost look, and when he shook his head without answering, waited until he went to the kitchen before stamping her foot.
It was maddening. He was maddening. She carelessly tossed a log onto the fire and jumped out of the way of the sparks, irritated and sad and hating everything. She couldn’t believe she actually looked forward to boarding a ship again, thinking that a few days of mindless retching might be a welcome reprieve to all this angst.
A light knocking sound made her head swivel around toward the door, not certain she hadn’t imagined it, but a moment later it happened again. A very definite tapping. The view out the window showed only the street and the solid wood door didn’t have a window or any sort of peephole. The knocking came more assuredly this time. Someone was out there.
Perhaps now that Camilla was gone and her hexes were worn off, people were returning to the village. Maybe a ship had landed at the port. She called to Ashford that someone was knocking and he hollered back for her to wait, but the door wasn’t even bolted. Whoever it was could have burst in at any time if they’d wanted to, so she didn’t think they meant any harm. This was
Those thoughts brought her back to grim wakefulness. She snuggled close to him, listening to his slow, deep breathing for a long time before falling asleep.
***
The next morning Ashford woke her, already dressed and looking harried.
“Are we leaving? Right now?” she asked, trying to shake away the sleep haze. “How long have you been up?”
“We’re not leaving yet,” he said. “I’ve been up for a while, took another look around.”
“Did you find anything?” she asked, thinking if she was as cryptic as he was, maybe she’d trick him into answering a question.
He looked pained, for the first time showing that he might truly be upset about everything that had happened.
“No,” he said dejectedly. “I didn’t.”
She wanted to scream, or shake him, but merely rolled out of bed and wrapped her arms around him. She was much better at getting dressed without his help, but still liked it, and after getting into her undergarments and gown with lightning speed, he did up the buttons she couldn’t reach, but without any lingering kisses, much to her disappointment.
The more she studied him, the clearer it became to her that it must finally be hitting him. The loss of his sister and Kostya, and the unsavory chore of having to do something about their remains had finally settled in. As terrible as it felt to her to leave it all behind, she was ready to suggest doing that, to spare him the agony it was sure to be. To spare herself as well. The thought of it gave her palpitations of anxiety, and she paused to marvel that she hadn’t gone off the deep end worse than she had after what they’d seen and done. If it was that bad for her, it had to be pure misery for Ashford.
Downstairs, he must have noticed her shivering, and nodded toward the dining hall.
“Go sit by the fire. I found tea leaves when I was out this morning. I’ll get water to brew you some, then we can … be on our way.”
They weren’t packed up yet, so she had to assume he meant to the church. Her stomach rolled over and the bereft look in his eyes only made it worse. He hurried over and kissed her forehead.
“Don’t start crying, if you can help it, please,” he said, squeezing her shoulder bracingly. “I won’t be able to bear it.”
She blinked and nodded. “It’ll be fine,” she said.
“It’ll be over soon,” he amended bitterly, looking past her out the window. His face fell into that look of confusion he’d had off and on since the day before. “I really thought, though …” he shook his head and shrugged. “I guess they didn’t lie after all.”
“What are you talking about?” she demanded, forgetting to be sensitive and caring.
She bit back the apology she was about to utter at his lost look, and when he shook his head without answering, waited until he went to the kitchen before stamping her foot.
It was maddening. He was maddening. She carelessly tossed a log onto the fire and jumped out of the way of the sparks, irritated and sad and hating everything. She couldn’t believe she actually looked forward to boarding a ship again, thinking that a few days of mindless retching might be a welcome reprieve to all this angst.
A light knocking sound made her head swivel around toward the door, not certain she hadn’t imagined it, but a moment later it happened again. A very definite tapping. The view out the window showed only the street and the solid wood door didn’t have a window or any sort of peephole. The knocking came more assuredly this time. Someone was out there.
Perhaps now that Camilla was gone and her hexes were worn off, people were returning to the village. Maybe a ship had landed at the port. She called to Ashford that someone was knocking and he hollered back for her to wait, but the door wasn’t even bolted. Whoever it was could have burst in at any time if they’d wanted to, so she didn’t think they meant any harm. This was
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