Page 91 of A Single Thread of Moonlight

The silence that fell around us was heavy. I could see that Nick was adjusting to these new ideas, could see him matching up all this new information with the questions he had, the things about me that hadn’t quite fit before. Now the puzzle pieces fell neatly into place.

“What about Helena?” he asked. “Was she involved in your father’s death?”

“Not as far as I can tell,” I replied. “I was so sure. But something still isn’t right with my father’s will.”

As briefly as possible I sketched out the details of what I had learned since arriving at Holland Hall.

“So, you see,” I said finally, “nothing was as I thought it was. My father wasn’t such a hero after all, and Helena wasn’t such a villain.”

“Not in this, no,” Nick said. “But in the way she treated you?”

“I wanted to punish her for it all, just like you with Stefan. By ruining his match with Agatha.” I sighed. Sharing everything had left me feeling tired and raw. “I need to try and find out if there really is a page missing from the will. I can’t help but think there must have been more to it – that there were certain things my father would have wanted me to have. That he would have protected me better.” I hesitated. “Or maybe that’s just what I want to believe. Whatever the truth is, however knotted and messy, I need to find it. Only now I think that Helena suspects who I really am. I have no idea what she’ll do next. I know she can be ruthless; she’s like a lit fuse and I’m waiting for the explosion.”

Nick was leaning against the fireplace, clearly trying to absorb everything I had told him. That was how I had felt after he’d told me about Stefan. He needed time to let it all sink in. I got to my feet.

“What are you doing?” Nick asked, startled.

“I’m going back to my room,” I said.

“Oh,” he said. “Of course.”

I took another step forward, towards him. “Before I go,” I said, “I wanted to ask you something.”

He raised his brows.

I plucked up the bit of courage I had remaining. “What you said last night, about Stefan, about history repeating itself. What did you mean?”

“You said that Stefan had been charming you. That you liked him … and I was the one who brought him into your life – just like I did with Lila.” There was the briefest pause. “I meant that I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

“Because … you care about me?” I struggled with the words.

Slowly, Nick nodded.

“Like you cared about Lila?”

Nick cleared his throat. “In a different way to how I cared about Lila.”

“I see,” I said. My voice was small. Something heavy and crushing settled in my chest.

“No!” Nick exclaimed, and I looked up at him. He looked angry again. “No! I don’t mean… That isn’t… What I’m…” He huffed crossly. “Why do I always end up stammering like a schoolboy when I’m with you?”

“I have no idea!” I said, riled by his accusatory tone.

“What I mean,” Nick said with elaborate patience, “is that with Lila, I was sixteen. It was an infatuation. Fleeting. In the end, Lila was – and is – my friend. That’s not how I feel about you.”

“Isn’t it?”

“No.” I thought the word “no” had never sounded so romantic, so full of heat and tenderness and longing. It made my knees shake.

Still he didn’t move from the fireplace, only watched me with a burning intensity.

That was when I realized. After what he’d told me about Stefan’s behaviour, about Lila, there was no way that Nick was going to move. What was it he had said to me the night of the ball? That choice would always lie with you.

“Oh,” I said, taking another step forward so that I was right in front of him. I lifted my hands, placing them on either side of his face. “Now I see.”

I stood up on my tiptoes and brushed my lips softly against his.

For a moment he stilled, and then his arms were around my waist, and he came away from the edge of the fireplace with a ferocity that would have made me stumble if he hadn’t been holding me up. Not that I would have noticed. Even as it was happening, I couldn’t believe it was happening.