Beth turned her head and met his gaze. “We would have died that day had you and your men not rushed the house just then. You saved our lives, that’s certain.”
Scotty nodded. “We’d been tracking the man since his first attack on this second round of killings, but the trail had gone cold a couple weeks before that night. We realized afterward that it was because he’d gone to ground in yer house and sent the women out to hunt.” Shaking his head, he continued, “The only reason we were there that evening was because we had intel that something was going on. People were disappearing in the area, many of them last seen entering that house, and there was a stench coming from it that was apparently unbearable and very telling. We were in a carriage across the street, just arming ourselves when the two o’ ye arrived and traipsed in. We suspected ye had no idea what ye were walking into and followed quickly.”
“I know I didn’t have the presence of mind to say it at the time, but thank you for that,” Beth said quietly.
“Me pleasure,” Scotty said softly, and then cleared his throat before saying, “And I apologize if me suggesting the three-on-one mind wipe fer ye upset ye at the time.”
When she merely nodded and closed her eyes, he added carefully, “But I still think it would have been—and might still be—best fer ye.”
Much to his relief, Beth actually smiled at the words. But she didn’t open her eyes and all she said was, “Do ye?”
“Aye,” Scotty said. “Ye have so many horrible memories, Beth. I know they pain ye. A three-on-one would take them away so that they could no longer hurt ye.”
“Do ye dislike me so much that you’d rather I was completely wiped, my personality completely removed, than to be the way I am?” she asked sadly, her eyes still closed.
“What?” Scotty asked with dismay. “Nay, I—”
“The way I see it, I’m exactly who I was meant to be,” Beth said, grimly now. “And everything I went through? I wouldn’t change a thing.”
“What?” He gaped at her with surprise. “But you were raped, repeatedly, from ten years old on, and Danny near beat ye to death, and what Jamieson did to you and the other women . . .” Scotty shook his head, and frowned when he saw that she simply rested with her head back and eyes closed. He didn’t understand why she wasn’t jumping at the chance.
“Have you ever made a sword?” she asked suddenly into the silence.
“What?” Scotty asked with bewilderment.
“A sword,” Beth repeated, neither opening her eyes nor moving. “I’ve never made one myself, but I gather they stick a steel rod into fire to soften it and then hammer it and hammer it and hammer it, only to stick it back in the fire again and hammer it some more. And they do that until they’ve made the finest, strongest, sharpest sword they can.”
Scotty waited, expression blank, not sure what this had to do with anything.
“Some years back I decided God is like a blacksmith,” she announced. “And I think all these horrible experiences are just him putting us in the fire and hammering at us, and then putting us in the fire again, and hammering some more until he makes us the strongest, finest, and sharpest we can be.”
Beth smiled to herself, eyes still closed, and then admitted, “It took a lot of years for me to come to that conclusion. It took a lot of time for me to come to like myself too, and accept my past as being partially responsible for forming me. But now, I wouldn’t change what happened to me for anything, Scotty. Not because I enjoyed it, for I surely didn’t, at least not all of it, but because I like me. I like who I’ve become. As a child I thought I knew everything, knew better than my mother. I was arrogant as youth is. In my life I’ve been stubborn and stupid and selfish by turn, but everything that happened to me made me stronger and better. And usually taught me a lesson of one sort or another. And now I like myself.”
Sitting up again, Beth turned to face him, meeting his gaze directly. “So, you see, I don’t want to forget. Because if all those things hadn’t happened, maybe I’d be a different person. Perhaps weaker, perhaps more selfish, perhaps defenseless and dependent, or perhaps stronger and a queen,” she said with a grin. “But I’d be a different person. I don’t want to be a different person. I am who I am and I really do like, even love, myself now. So, if your efforts to get me to agree to a three-on-one are purely for my benefit, you can stop. I don’t want that.”
Beth was silent for a minute, letting that sink in, and then said, “However, I know that’s not why. You were always cold and harsh with me, showing your dislike and disgust. I know it has something to do with your mother and your inability to accept my life before I was turned. And I’m sorry if the person I’ve become isn’t good enough for you, and you feel that a three-on-one mind wipe would make me more to your liking. But the person I have become is good enough for me, and I’m the one who has to face her in the mirror every day.”
“Beth, I’m no’—I just think—” he began, but she cut him off.
“It doesn’t matter what you think,” she interrupted, and then shook her head. “As I said, I’ve struggled with it this last century. It was hard work learning to accept myself for who I am. But I had got to the point where I had accepted myself. And then you came along and I started feeling not good enough again. I started hearing those taunts in my head—dirty whore, nasty slag. Who would want a dirty whore like me?”
Beth shook her head again. “I don’t want to feel like that anymore, Scotty. I don’t want to have to change to be acceptable to you. And I don’t want to have to erase the person I’ve become to be good enough for anyone. The truth is . . . well, maybe the truth is you’re not good enough for me. Maybe I don’t want someone so small-minded and judgmental in my life. I think I’m better off without you. Because I don’t want a life mate who makes me feel so small and soiled.”
Leaving him sitting there, stunned, Beth stood and walked into the bathroom, closing the door quietly behind her.
Scotty just sat there for the longest time, his mind in turmoil. He couldn’t believe the irony of it all. Finally he came to his senses, saw who she was and was ready to accept her, and she decided he wasn’t good enough for her. And the hell of it was, he couldn’t blame her. He had done everything she’d said. He’d looked down on her, and considered himself above her. Christ, he’d just added to her pain and suffering and made her feel small and soiled, and the knowledge shamed him. Scotty did not consider himself better than anyone else. At least, not normally. But . . .