Page 46 of His Revelation
Still, that didn’t stop him from buying a ticket himself and sliding into a seat across the aisle from her, though a few rows back. He could tell from the stiffness of her shoulders she knew he was there, but not once did she acknowledge him.
As the afternoon crept on, she ate, she drank, and she cried. Oh, she was subtle about it, her face turned toward the whizzing landscape, but he could tell what she was doing. A few people stopped to ask if they could help, and each time, Lysander stiffened, bitter at the thought of her allowing someone else to comfort her. But each time, she thanked them politely and sent them on their way, and he glared as the interloper passed.
The train—and the landscape outside—was dark when she finally fell asleep, but Lysander couldn’t do the same. Not when every bone in his body was urging him to go to her, to gather her in his arms, to take her sleeping weight on his shoulder andbe content. He couldn’t, because he knew how much he’d hurt her, and he deserved this frustration, because of the pain he’d caused her.
They changed trains again at Edinburgh, and although he’d hovered nearby to ensure she’d had no trouble making the new train, he shouldn’t have bothered. Just as he’d told her, she was strong and capable, and judging from the tightness around her lips as she so thoroughly ignored him, she knew it.
After Inverness, neither of them slept. He watched her, watching the sky lighten in the east, and wondered what she was thinking. She was home a full day early, but she hadn’t found the manuscript she’d gone to York searching for.
And she’d been badly hurt.
By him.
They both stood as the train rolled to a stop at their station, and he was the one out the door first. It wasn’t quite dawn as he reached up to offer her a hand out of the train.
She stared at him for a long moment, then placed one slender, graceful hand in his and stepped down. She’d put no weight or pressure on him but had allowed him her hand as if she were the most elegant lady in the land, and not a woman with circles of exhaustion under her eyes and the stiffness of a failed mission across her shoulders.
Standing there on the station platform, in the cool morning darkness, Lysander realized the truth: the fatigue, the cosmetics, and the rough clothing did nothing to disguise the fact shewasthe most elegant lady in the land.
“Tiffany,” he began, but didn’t know how to continue.
She slid her hand from his. “Goodbye, Viscount Blabloblal.”
He hated how formal she sounded. He’d only been her Lunzie for a short time, but the thought of going back to being Blabloblal now…?
He shook his head.
But before he could say anything—before he could think of anything to say—she’d hefted her bag and began walking away.Muttering a curse under his breath, more at himself than her, he followed.
“Tiffany, I’ll no’ allow ye to walk home alone in the dark.”
Without glancing his way, she said stiffly, “It is not your place to concern yourself over me, milord.”
“Aye, it is,” he darkly vowed. He was beginning to suspect it would always be thus.
She was holding her skirts in one hand, walking fast enough it could almost be called a jog. They were nearing the inn. “You made it clear you wanted nothing to do with me, remember? BecauseIcertainly do.”
That was before!
Oh, aye, he clearly remembered how he’d purposefully snubbed her and had been rude to her while Athena had tried to smooth the waters of social niceties. But that was before he’d realized who she really was.
She’d said those cruel things about Lyon, aye, but she wasn’t the vain and self-centered bitch he’d assumed. She hadn’t insulted his brother’sappearance…merely his mannerisms.
Now, he followed her around to the rear of the inn. “Ye’ll be safe from here on,” he muttered, more to himself than her.
But she whirled around, and he was startled to realize there were more tear tracks on her cheeks. “I do not see why you should start to worry about thatnow, milord.”
He reared back. “Yer safety has always been my concern, Tiffany. Why do ye think it was so important for me to go on this journey with ye?”
“How should I know?” She swiped angrily at her eyes as she backed toward the gate to the kitchen garden. “Perhaps because you wanted to make me dependent on you, to fall in love with you, before you humiliated me.”
Is that what had happened?
“Nay,” he said quietly, one hand already reaching for her. “Nay, I only wanted to keep ye safe.”
Was that a lie?
“Well, you failed,” she spit out, her breath catching on a sob. “Because you could not keep me safe fromyou.”
