Page 57 of Hunted By the Guardian
“I know you must be conflicted,” Gabriel said. “I can see it. You know this might mean she moves out, but the way your face looked when I said it…you aren’t sure you want her to, are you?”
He opened his mouth to protest again, to tell Gabriel to stop looking for evidence that he had feelings for Violet…and suddenly, Jonathan was tired.
His heart ached. He didn’t want to deny it. Not again. Not anymore.
The way she had stood so close to him in the study the other day. The trust in her eyes as she’d looked up at him. It had touched something deep within him. He had never felt so aligned with another person. He’d never experienced such unity of purpose.
His father had been the sort of man to always use others for his own gain. And for the longest time, he had believed the same must be true of Violet. After all, wasn’t everyone like that, really? Weren’t all people looking out for what they could gain?
Yes, they were. Sometimes.
But Violet was willing to sacrifice Noah’s presence in her life if it was what was best for the boy.
She might be willing to sacrifice the house that—at least by some measure—was rightfully hers.
And in that moment, Jonathan knew that he didn’t want to sacrifice her.
“I’m conflicted,” he confessed, lowering his eyes. “I do have feelings for her. And I don’t know what to do.”
His friends did not crow in triumph, did not tell him they had known it all along, or try to encourage him to confess his feelings.
They were kind.
They sat with him and made no comment, and Jonathan knew that they supported him—no matter what decisions he made about his future.
CHAPTER 30
Ican’t believe I admitted it to them. I can’t believe I told them the truth. I told them how I feel about Violet. I haven’t even admitted that to myself…
Jonathan rode home in a fog, his thoughts spinning. He felt as if the ground had shifted beneath his feet, because he knew that he would never be able to take back what he had said. It seemed to him as though, by admitting his feelings for Violet, he had made them real somehow. He had removed any possibility that might have existed for denying that he felt something. How could he deny it now that he had spoken of it so openly?
And that meant it was going to have to be confronted, one way or another. He could no longer pretend to himself that he felt nothing at all. He could no longer hold onto the idea that he and Violet would go their separate ways and things would return to normal.
Nothing would be easy. Not anymore.
If Noah found a new home with his parents, Jonathan and Violet would no doubt separate very soon. And Jonathan realized now that he didn’t want that to happen. He wanted to stay with her. He wanted to eat meals with her and to spend random afternoons with her. He wanted the picnics and the late nights talking. He wanted the decisions the two of them had made together to better Noah’s life.
It’s completely impractical. Utterly inappropriate. We shouldn’t have let it go even as far as it has. Me living in a house with an unmarried lady? No, I never should have done it to begin with. It’s right that there are consequences for me now, that I won’t be able to walk away untouched. I just hope I can extricate myself without causing any problems for her.
These thoughts were on his mind as he mounted the steps to the front door of his house—her house—and went inside.
At once, he could see that something was off, though he couldn’t have said what it was. The house was quieter than usual, but at the same time, it pulsed with an energy he couldn’t identify. It was something about the emptiness of the foyer. Usually, there would be a few servants passing through on their way to do their day’s chores, but today that wasn’t happening.
Where was everybody?
Nerves clutched at him as he walked up the stairs, listening hard for some sign that someone was here. It wasn’t right to be fearful about it, of course. He couldn’t help worrying that Violet and Noah might have disappeared, gone off somewhere and left him behind…but that wouldn’t account for the way the whole house seemed to have gone silent.
And then he heard voices.
His heart leaped—they were coming from Noah’s bedroom. That was where they were. He hurried in that direction. He couldn’t make out what was being said—the tone was too low—but the voices were rushed and urgent. It didn’t sound like play, he realized as he drew even with the door. It seemed more serious than that.
He gripped the knob and opened the door.
Noah lay in bed, still and flushed, panting. Jonathan recognized the signs of fever at once. But the boy had been fine when they had seen one another last night! His stomach clutched. How could he have gotten into this state so quickly? What had happened?
And there was Violet. She was perched on the edge of his bed. She hadn’t even looked up when Jonathan had come in. She had a towel in her hands—it was damp, Jonathan saw—and she was moving it to various places on Noah’s body and holding it there, trying to cool him. His neck, his face, the insides of his wrists…
Her hands were trembling. Her lips were white.
