A Perilous Perspective (Lady Darby Mystery #10)(100)

I gasped in shock and terror and relief, my knees giving out beneath me.

Gage wrapped his strong arms around me and pulled me away from the cliff edge. “Kiera, what on earth were you doing?” he demanded, his voice tight with anger but also fear, for it shook at the edges. “Didn’t you hear me calling for you?”

I hadn’t, but I couldn’t answer him. It was all I could do to grip the lapels of his coat, clutching them for dear life as something split open inside me and I began to weep.

He gathered me up in his arms, carrying me through the trees and out into the clearing we had passed. There he sank down in the tall grasses and heather with me still cradled in his lap, allowing me to sob myself dry.

When finally my tears had slowed, he passed me his handkerchief and pressed a kiss to my brow as I mopped at my face. “Better?” he asked tenderly.

“A bit,” I admitted, my tone muffled by congestion.

“Now.” He pressed his fingers gently to my chin, lifting it so he could look me in the eye. “What happened?”

My cheeks warmed in shame and embarrassment.

“I saw you leave the house and followed you out of the gardens, fearing the worst about Bree.” He broke off in his explanation. “Is she . . . ?”

“She was still resting quietly when I left her. Nurse Mackay offered to sit with her.”

He nodded slowly, perhaps wondering why I hadn’t lain down to rest, but he didn’t press the issue. “When you suddenly broke into a run and darted off into the trees, I didn’t know what to think.”

“Then you didn’t see the woman in the blue cloak?”

He appeared startled. “No.” His gaze flickered over my features. “Who was she?”

“I don’t know. But . . .” I lowered my eyes, twisting the handkerchief, before forcing my gaze back to his. “It’s not the first time I’ve seen her.” I explained about the previous sightings as well as their potential connection to the appearance of the miniature on my pillow and the loss and recovery of my pendant.

His expression was grave. “Kiera, why didn’t you tell me about any of this before?”

I lowered my gaze again, too ashamed to look into his face. “Because we were just so caught up in our investigations, and I wasn’t sure she was even real,” I admitted on a broken whisper. “Part of me thought . . .” I trailed off before forcing myself to continue. “She reminded me of my mother.”

Rather than scold me for my foolishness, as he should have done, he pulled me close, resting his chin on my head. At first, I felt brittle in his arms, but I couldn’t withstand his efforts to comfort me, and soon melted into his embrace, even as I still berated myself for my folly.

“Deliberately, I assume.” His voice rumbled in my ear.

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“Kiera, they were taking advantage of your love for your mother, and the memories her connection with the Campbells has dredged up. They were misleading you. And I suspect if you hadn’t been so exhausted and distraught over Bree, you would have realized that.”

He was right. Or at least, I hoped so. I should have recognized my mother never would have run away from me like that, drawing me into danger. It was only, I’d wanted so badly for it to be her. It was a raw ache I could feel clear down to my bones.

“I miss her.”

“I know,” he replied, brushing back the tendrils of hair clinging to my face. “It’s different now, isn’t it? Having a child of our own. I find myself wondering what my mother would say or do. How she comforted me when I was crying in the middle of the night.”

I looked up into his beloved face. We had always been united in our grief over the loss of our mothers at too early an age, and even more so now.

His eyes narrowed as he gazed out into the glade. “I see so much of you and me in Emma, but I also see glimpses of my mother. Sometimes they’re so fleeting, I’m not sure they were ever really there and not just my wishful thinking.” He smiled sadly. “So, you see, I understand. At least, partially.”

I trailed my finger over the cleft in his chin. “I just feel so close to her here. Closer than I have in years. Because people haven’t been afraid to speak of her as if her name alone would cause me pain. It does, but it’s a good pain. Do you know what I mean?”

“I do.” His eyes glistened with sadness. “My father practically banned mentioning my mother from conversation after she died. Until I met you, until you forced me to tell you about her, I hadn’t uttered her name in years.” He nudged me gently. “Thank you for that, by the way.” His mouth flattened. “I suppose I should have done the same for you.”

“It’s not that you didn’t,” I protested. “But . . .”

“You needed to hear it from people who knew her,” he finished for me.

“Yes.” I frowned, searching for the words. “And . . . I suppose I needed to more fully understand the woman she was, not just the parts grasped by my eight-year-old brain. I needed to know that resilience is in my blood.”

Gage’s face was soft with affection. “That it is.” His mouth flattened. “But I still wish you’d told me.”

“I know,” I admitted. “I should have trusted you. I should have trusted myself.” I wrapped my arms around his neck. “The next time I see a figure lurking in the bushes, you’ll be the first to know. Even if I’m partially convinced it’s my mother’s ghost.”