Chapter 7

"You're different."

His mouth thinned into a line. "I realized the last night we spoke that I must discipline myself better."

Adam was standing beside me four days later as I sat on a large boulder within the wood on my uncle's property. I could still see the manor through breaks in the tree trunks, but we were well hidden. I had purposely moseyed through the wood thinking perhaps he would seek me out. He had. But his physical demeanor was less accessible now that it had been the last time we had spoken. His face was fully guarded and unreadable, his movements censored and precise. It irritated me, though I could not pinpoint why, and though I knew it shouldn't have.

"Why?" I asked, frowning down at the dirt.

He crossed his arms. He was so tall standing—like a man out of a story. But his face was young yet. Lined, but by ragged scars instead of wrinkles. "I upset you at times when I am sincere." He looked away, his jaw set hard. "Giving indulgence to certain impulses and emotions of mine isn't sensible."

I wanted to argue. I wanted his sincerity. But I knew he was doing the gentlemanly thing by distancing himself appropriately. What would it make me if I argued with him?

"Why can I not have your sincerity?" It was a foolish question, childish, and I knew it. He gave me a hard look. I added, "I don't want you to be so aloof and coarse with me."

"That is how I am," he growled softly. "Don't forget what I am."

"I know what you are, Adam," I said gentling my voice.

He made a growling sound. "You must not forget. And I must not."

I was upset with him, though I was trying not to be. I looked away and murmured, "You should be able to be sincere with me because I'm the only person you have. Even if it is a bit much for me at times. Or even a bit improper. I want to be able to give that to you."

"And what about what I want to give you?" he replied, his voice gentler than it had been. "I don't want to see you uncomfortable again. You were four nights ago—"

"I wasn't."

"—and I don't want it to happen again. Your wants are more important to me."

"Don't be dramatic! Our friendship must be a compromise. You will be disappointed sometimes and I will be startled and put upon other times. It seems to me to be the way it is."

I had made a sound argument and he felt silent.

We both heard Ernest calling for me from the closer grounds of the manor.

"Thursday morning?" I asked him. He nodded, and then looked away. I turned, raising my skirts, and left him.

The next night I awoke in the dead of it knowing he was there.

My eyes opened, but I could see nothing in the prefect blackness. Still, I felt him. Smelled him. The scent of the woods and the thick wool of his cloak.

"Adam?" I whispered.

"Yes…I'm here," came his low whisper in reply.

Three quiet steps on the floorboards and a beat later there was a hiss and crackling of fire catching as he lit the candle beside my bed. He flinched at the light, his fingers quick, and his dark eyes intent on the work of his hands. I watched him as the flicker of the candlelight played upon his face. It cast his upper body into light and shadow and looked soft upon his scarred skin. I was rather shockingly unsurprised that he was in my bedroom at this hour. He did not obey the laws of normal courtesy; he was too wild or too holy for them. Perhaps both.

He had the presence of a dark angel—a protector that could carry the wrath of God. By instinct I knew that if I had not woken, I would not have been disturbed.

His eyes came to mine finally and saw my scrutiny with discomfiture. He grimaced.

"I do not hate the way you look anymore," I murmured.

"Please," he muttered darkly, "I know what I look like."

"Your own opinion will not change mine and you shall have to reconcile yourself to that."

His eyes flicked back to mine. "You are very stubborn," he chuckled finally. The sound, the way he looked when he smiled, made my face feel warm. The night was deep and still and there was warm firelight between us. The light and the privacy were intimate, and this meeting went so strongly against proper etiquette that every inch of me hummed with the thrill of it. I was only wearing my nightgown beneath the bed covers, and the scent of him was filling my senses as it had the night I had fallen asleep in the chair and he hand woken me with a touch. I wanted his touch again. I wanted to press my lips into his hand as I had that night. My heart began to beat in hard thuds against the ceiling of my ribs.

"Adam," I whispered, shifting slightly beneath the bedclothes. My right hand reached toward his face and my fingers trailed across his cheek. His eyes swam with sudden emotion.

With a groaning growl he twitched as if to pull me tight against his chest but at the last moment his muscles stiffened and he griped the edge of the mattress with his large hands instead, his breaths coming fast. I moved back from him and watched his expression apologetically. I was behaving impolitely and without the expected modesty of a woman. He was…who he was. But yet it seemed that fact and logic would not stop me from feeling…reacting. Wanting. I had wanted those strong arms to tighten around me and crush me against him. I wanted the words shaped by his brilliant mind whispered close in my ear while he lay beside me. In this candlelight, that was clearer inside me than ever. I closed my eyes tightly for a moment.

He too closed his eyes and exhaled shakily, pulling himself away from me.

"I'm sorry," I apologized. "I don't mean to be unkind." I lifted my eyes to his.

"I am trying…not to be selfish," he managed. "I have nothing for you. It would be foolish of you to indulge me and I know this." I could hear in his voice the emotions swirling through him. "Understand me. Your touch…sweet Chandelle, it is what I want most…it is everything. But it overpowers me. I'm afraid of…of my own passion." His expression was tight.

"Adam…"

Our eyes stared into each other's and my legs felt as if they were melting. He shut his, and the moment between us broke.

"I cannot think logically enough with you so close," he murmured hoarsely, moving on his knees back a foot or so from the bed. The world grew colder as he did so. "I will try to be just your companion," he murmured. "It is how this should be and I know so. I may make mistakes, but I am trying."

I was looking away.

"Chandelle. I…I won't impose on you. I promise. I won't forget—"

"What you are?" I interrupted. "What you are is a man and it seems it is impossible for me to go about forgetting that."

"Brash girl," he growled. My remark had brought pain to his dark eyes for a moment, and I thought his shields would fall, but he masked his expression again emotionlessly. "I cannot be for you in that way. Do not be so cruel as to tease me."

I pinched the bridge of my nose between my fingers, trying to get my emotions under control. I didn't know what I wanted.

He continued, "When it comes to you, I lay everything I want aside in favor of what is best for you."

"Are you so sure you know what's best for me?"

He closed his eyes. "Chandelle, please…"

"Yes, very well—have your discipline."

"How can you be angry with me?" he growled low. "It can never be. It isn't right for you."

My heart was stinging with what I identified as rejection and my next words were thoughtless. "Perhaps Victor could only make you resemble a man but not feel like one."

There was perfect silence as he stared at me. Then a gust of air hit my face as he stood swift as lightning and was gone. The candle he had lit flickered wildly in the draft then went out, casting the room into darkness once more. Adam had made no sound, but the roar he would have made had he been at liberty to do so nonetheless echoed in my ears.

If I never saw him again, I deserved it. He would do better to stay away from me. I was no better than Victor. He created life and tore it down, and I too had given life and then caused pain.

I avoided my family the next day and remained shut in my room. Why had I hurt him? Hell hath no fury… I had been hurt and had therefore wanted to hurt him. And I had succeeded brilliantly.

It was unlike me to be so carelessly unkind. But I had never felt so powerfully before. And caught in the riptide of these unrecognized emotions, I had let my bruised feelings get the best of me and had in turn busied the man I…

My tears would not cease as the new day waned. I slept fitfully through the daylight and when the night descended and the home quieted as the family went to sleep, I waited hoping that maybe he would come back because I had placed a book beneath the vase. Really I knew he would not.

I had to at least apologize if I could not heal the wounds I had inflicted. Even if I could only see him once more, I had to offer my remorse. But how to find him?

The night continued to deaden until the only noises were my heartbeat, the drop of my tears onto the pillow, and the soft hum of crickets outside.

"Adam," I called out softly to the shadows. "Adam."

When there was no reply, no smell of pine and wool reaching me in the darkness, I closed my eyes. "Liar. You said you would come. But I am a liar as well. I said I would be kind."

I could not remain any longer in bed. I had to try. Changing into warmer clothes, I donned my shoes and coat, took a small oil lamp from the sitting room, and quitted the house. I crossed the yard lit fairly brightly by the moon overhead and went towards the dark woods surrounding the estate. Surely I would have looked like a lost spirit from anyone watching from the house, but no one could be awake at this time, so it did not matter. I entered the wood and remained at the fringes in view of the house, stopping and waiting.

"Adam," I said, my voice thick with tears. "Adam?" I walked through the dark edges of the wood. "Adam?" Clutching the lamp in my hands tightly, I spoke, though I knew I might have been entirely alone. "Adam…I'm so sorry. I meant none of it. I…I was hurt. I wish that I had not allowed myself to be so unkind. You're a better person than me. I can't censor myself as well… I'm so sorry." I wrapped my arms around my middle to keep myself upright. "I…"

I trailed off as Adam stepped out of the dark trees. My heart swelled at the sight of him, his tall, strong body and the moonlight falling on his face just as it had the first night I had met him. There was a moment of silence between us and in his face there was a heartbreaking sadness, but also something he had never before allowed to shine through his eyes: pure, unadulterated love.

My knees went weak and shook. Given another half a moment, I would've launched myself into his arms, but before I could move, Adam's head jerked to look toward the house.

"Chandelle, get behind me." He was moving toward me, his eyes on something I could not yet see but was beginning to hear, his face shifting into a grimace of hatred. Something was crashing through the wood toward us.

A sharp and unforgiving voice sliced through the dark wood.

"Get away from her, you fiend!" Victor cried viciously, crashing toward us, pistol drawn.

Things then happened very quickly.

Hearing Victor's voice, I launched myself around Adam, facing Victor and placing my body between them, knowing it would protect Adam. Victor would not shoot me.

But this action pointed a pistol at me, and that was not something Adam could abide. With a snarl he leapt forward to pull me behind him and a shot rang out in the moonlit night.