Chapter 8

Heathcliff waits until the fool is snoring and then slips to Keela's door, she opens it to him, her hair a cloud of fire about her shoulders, a smile upon her lips

"Ye may not come in, if ye wish to talk we must do so here, or I shall dress and we may return to the hall."

He laughs "And it seems this is what ye tell yer husband, also."

"That is not your concern, I…we…"

His black eyes sparkle "It is only half a marriage! Before God! Keela, ye do not love him!"

Her cheeks are scarlet "Hush please! Nay, and he knows it in truth, he does not love me any more than can be said for Abigail or Lucy or Bess from the tavern, it is not a love match, his family pressed him to find a bride and so he chose me, we have…an understanding. He loves me in his own way."

"He pays yer rebellion."

She nods.

"And you?"

"I praise him to his fellow Lords and ladies, I win him support, I please his family, though they grow tired of waiting for heirs…"

"Heirs? You do not permit him to share yer chamber!" he is laughing.

"I…I told him I had a holy gift of healing…Stop laughing! And I will lose such a gift if I ever…"

"It is as fine an excuse as ever I heard, ye don't want 'im, do ye?"

She shakes her head "He is kind…when sober…sometimes he is angry that I am not a proper wife…"

"I am quite sure he is. He has never?...Tell me he has hurt you Keela, and I swear I will kill him where he sleeps."

She raises her hands

"Never! He is a good man…only a little sinful. He has no need o' me, he has many others who will do fer 'im what I will not. I heard 'im say ye won?"

He nods, black tresses whispering in the candlelight, she lowers her gaze to her bare feet,

"Of course it is all in jest."

"I have no memory of jests being part of our wager, title, land and lady. Such was our bargain."

She steps back, her laughter like silver bells in his ears, "If he thought for one moment ye intended…he would kill ye."

"We will know come mornin', will we not?"

She pales and reaches out to him, "Do not say such…I cannot watch him hurt ye."

"I will not wait on the hospitality o' yer husband, he treats me like a traitor and a…He will keep his wager Keela, and leave my house."

"And what is to become of me? In light of this? Am I to be thrown to the roadside once more? Will ye go back to England and bring Miss Cathy to be yer Lady? Surely she would divorce Master Linton in yer favour, since ye are now so high?"

His smile is sinful "I am quite sure she would, but no, let her see what she might have had, had she followed her heart and not her greed."

"And I?" her voice trembles.

He considers taunting her, offering her a place in his stables…but he is reminded of the girl who sobbed in the snows, her blood upon her and her tears like diamonds.

"Marry me."

Her eyes widen "What?"

"Ye heard me."

"Nay! I am married…I cannot remarry until Aed dies. May it be a long time yet, please God."

"Why do ye refuse me Keela? Do ye think I do not see the truth of why ye keep him from ye? Ye love me, I know ye do. Ye always did."

He has hold of her then, pulled close to him, she pushes the gypsy from her, with a violence that reminds him of the Taig that struck him down, upon the stones of the Heights.

She has not worked in years, her muscle softened, she has the body of a lady, curved and rich, fed on milk and honey.

"And ye love Miss Cathy. Ye only ask me out of revenge against her, and I say Nay!"

He stands quite still, framed in the doorway, lit by the candles golden glow, she keeps her eyes lowered, and he almost laughs, she does not even trust herself to look at him.

"As ye wish, my lady." He bows low and turns from her, leaving her standing, looking after him, he closes the door to his own chamber and hears her whisper his name in the darkness…and in that moment he feels something almost like peace, she loves him still, as she always did…whatever Catherine does, whatever he does…this cannot change.

There never was any thought of wealth nor power nor the will of men between them, it was he and her, as simple and pure as ever a love could be.

She would have loved him had he been a beggar at her gate or had he been a king.

He is horrified at such a realisation, he spends a sleepless night in the shadow, he loves Catherine…and yet…with Keela life was always so simple, there was no pretence, no shyness nor false affection, they could scream and strike one the other and yet always find their way back to each other, she has seen the very worst of him, his hate and his rage and his jealousy for another woman, and she one Keela loathed.

Yet still she loves him.

She did not even deny it…

He tries to think on Cathy and yet his heart fills with memories or skin like fresh cream striped with blood and hair like fire, the silvery laugh that always put him in mind of a sprite about some mischief, the fierce strength in her arms as she slaved at his side, without air nor grace, he loves Cathy he cannot change it, he may as soon try to cut out his own soul.

And yet for Keela , he cannot name such a feeling, it is not the heavenly delight of Cathy, it is not the worshipful state he experiences when in her presence.

It is a steady and surer thing by far, the glimmer of lights when lost in the moorland mists, the song of fire on a bitter winters night, she is to him all laughter and delight, the very best of himself he sees like a mirror when she looks into his eyes.

Everything in him that could be called good, is only alive when she is at his side, she is his comfort and his distraction, the candlelight that keeps the darkness from his soul, the laughter to wash away tears, the closest to belonging he has ever felt was when he held her in his arms, and she looked up at him and wanted no one and nothing more than his company, her very spirit promising that she would never look down upon him, nor find him wanting he saw it again in the square.

When he was only a poor soldier and she saw him and knew him across the years and came to him, a fine lady, as though they were equals still, her soft hands took his and she promised him freedom and gave it without thought of thanks, when she stood against her husband's debasement of him, moving to sit at his side, and he sees her loyalty, even to a drunken fool like her husband.

And she gave him the keys to wealth and power…so that he might win Cathy and so be happy.

For his happiness she would sacrifice her home, her name and her wealth, she would be a servant in his stables, bow her head to Cathy once more and call her Ladyship, all for love of the gypsy foundling.