Read Online Circle of Spies by Roseanna M. White - Free Book Online
Authors: Roseanna M. White
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pressed her ear to the wall nor followed the sounds farther down than they had gone earlier.
She shouldnât have listened. Because now the words would never leave her. They would forever echo in her mind, another memory to chain her down. To rattle around and rise to the fore when she least wanted it.
â¦preeminent before allâ¦before the affection of wife, mother, or child.
Her tears felt scalding upon her cheek. Before all . Her hand slid down, and she let it dangle there between her and the door, with nothing but frigid air to hold it. No warm fingers around it, no lips upon its knuckles. No love.
If Dev could issue that oath, he had sworn it himself. As had Lucien. The two men who had claimed to cherish her above all. Both had turned around and sworn to put these brothers above her. Was she anything to them? Was it love they felt or, as Stephen had insisted when she announced her engagement, something baser?
Maybe it was. Maybe that was all any man could ever feel for her. Maybe she was nothing but a fool to ever think she could find something real, some genuine affection to carry her through life.
A fool. A wicked, selfish fool who had done nothing but chase her own desires, and who had nothing to show for it but a stone heart crushed to pieces.
She ought to have learned her lesson the first time, when she stood in the summer-warm stable and saw her dreams stomped to dust. She ought to have turned around right then and sworn off men.
Or the second time, when that bolt of attraction to Dev proved false her feelings for Lucien. She should have canceled the wedding andâ¦and joined a nunnery. Or at the very least, taken the train to Connecticut and let Grandpapa Alain hold her tight to his chest and whisper French assurances into her ear.
And now here she was again. Her memory etched with the proof that nothing was what she thought it.
She turned, put her back to the door, and slid down. Maybe if she were lucky, her bones would turn into nothing but a mound of dust on the floor, to be swept away.
The hand of the Lord was upon me, and carried me out in the spirit of the Lord, and set me down in the midst of the valley which was full of bonesâ¦
The floor was like ice against her legs. Perhaps that was what Hades really was, ice rather than fire. For she had tasted fire, had let it consume herâand this was worse. This was the punishment. Not an inferno of feeling, but a total lack of it.
And caused me to pass by them round about: and, behold, there were very many in the open valley; and, lo, they were very dry.
The time had come to learn. That was what Stephen had said toher when he confessed he had enlisted. âYou can list every mistake you ever made, Mari, but at some point you have to learn from them. You have to recognize them for what they are. You have to take consequences into account.â
Her own voice echoed back through her head, tinged with angerâanger at him for saying the words, and more, for leaving her alone to hear them again and again. âYou canât understand, Stephen. You speak of consequences as if the future matters, but if you had these bells of memory forever clanging in your head, you would understand why I only want now .â
âIf you gave more thought to the future, maybe the past wouldnât hurt so much.â Oh, how those words echoed. He had spoken them with such disappointment. As if he had known she would never listen. As if he mourned for her long before she had mourned for him.
And he said unto me, Son of man, can these bones live?
A shiver coursed through her and stole any energy she had left. Her eyes focused on the red-orange glow of coals, she drew in a quavering breath. The tears had already given up. She was empty inside. Dry. Dust. Bone.
Her eyes slid shut. â âAnd I answered, O Lord God, thou knowest.â â
Five
W alker tossed fresh hay into the stall and smiled at the nicker of the horse.
She shouldnât have listened. Because now the words would never leave her. They would forever echo in her mind, another memory to chain her down. To rattle around and rise to the fore when she least wanted it.
â¦preeminent before allâ¦before the affection of wife, mother, or child.
Her tears felt scalding upon her cheek. Before all . Her hand slid down, and she let it dangle there between her and the door, with nothing but frigid air to hold it. No warm fingers around it, no lips upon its knuckles. No love.
If Dev could issue that oath, he had sworn it himself. As had Lucien. The two men who had claimed to cherish her above all. Both had turned around and sworn to put these brothers above her. Was she anything to them? Was it love they felt or, as Stephen had insisted when she announced her engagement, something baser?
Maybe it was. Maybe that was all any man could ever feel for her. Maybe she was nothing but a fool to ever think she could find something real, some genuine affection to carry her through life.
A fool. A wicked, selfish fool who had done nothing but chase her own desires, and who had nothing to show for it but a stone heart crushed to pieces.
She ought to have learned her lesson the first time, when she stood in the summer-warm stable and saw her dreams stomped to dust. She ought to have turned around right then and sworn off men.
Or the second time, when that bolt of attraction to Dev proved false her feelings for Lucien. She should have canceled the wedding andâ¦and joined a nunnery. Or at the very least, taken the train to Connecticut and let Grandpapa Alain hold her tight to his chest and whisper French assurances into her ear.
And now here she was again. Her memory etched with the proof that nothing was what she thought it.
She turned, put her back to the door, and slid down. Maybe if she were lucky, her bones would turn into nothing but a mound of dust on the floor, to be swept away.
The hand of the Lord was upon me, and carried me out in the spirit of the Lord, and set me down in the midst of the valley which was full of bonesâ¦
The floor was like ice against her legs. Perhaps that was what Hades really was, ice rather than fire. For she had tasted fire, had let it consume herâand this was worse. This was the punishment. Not an inferno of feeling, but a total lack of it.
And caused me to pass by them round about: and, behold, there were very many in the open valley; and, lo, they were very dry.
The time had come to learn. That was what Stephen had said toher when he confessed he had enlisted. âYou can list every mistake you ever made, Mari, but at some point you have to learn from them. You have to recognize them for what they are. You have to take consequences into account.â
Her own voice echoed back through her head, tinged with angerâanger at him for saying the words, and more, for leaving her alone to hear them again and again. âYou canât understand, Stephen. You speak of consequences as if the future matters, but if you had these bells of memory forever clanging in your head, you would understand why I only want now .â
âIf you gave more thought to the future, maybe the past wouldnât hurt so much.â Oh, how those words echoed. He had spoken them with such disappointment. As if he had known she would never listen. As if he mourned for her long before she had mourned for him.
And he said unto me, Son of man, can these bones live?
A shiver coursed through her and stole any energy she had left. Her eyes focused on the red-orange glow of coals, she drew in a quavering breath. The tears had already given up. She was empty inside. Dry. Dust. Bone.
Her eyes slid shut. â âAnd I answered, O Lord God, thou knowest.â â
Five
W alker tossed fresh hay into the stall and smiled at the nicker of the horse.
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