She doubled over as if she’d been struck in the stomach. It was her. That baby in Rupert’s mind was her.
“No.” She dug her fingers into the sand, then hurled a clump of sand into the sea. “No!” She grabbed the stick and dragged it back and forth across the letters to erase what she had done. The pelican stood nearby, its head cocked as if it had been reading what she’d wrote.
But she couldn’t erase what her father had done. He’d destroyed Rupert’s family. Only Rupert had survived. He was the lost prince.
No. Her heart stuttered. He was the rightful king.
Dear goddesses, no wonder he wanted revenge.
She collapsed forward onto her knees and elbows. Rupert had been betrothed to her. She had been the excuse to lure Rupert’s family to their doom.
How could he ever trust her? Or love her?
With a cry, she realized any future with him was impossible. And now that she knew it could never happen, she was suddenly aware of how much she wanted it. She wanted his love.
Goddesses help her, she was in love with him.
Chapter Sixteen
“Child, what are you doing here alone?”
Brigitta looked up to find Granny Hargraves leaning over her. The old woman was holding a small earthenware pitcher in her hands.
“Ah, you’ve been crying.” Granny Hargraves watched her sadly.
Brigitta sat up. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been crouched over the sand. A cool breeze stung her face and brought her back to the world around her. Only a sliver of light colored the sea a glowing red where the sun had set. Darkness had descended unnoticed.
She’d been numb, she realized. Withdrawn into a miserable, small place filled with gloom and despair. Now she could hear the music and laughter of the celebration in the distance. People were eating and dancing.
“Why are you crying?” Granny Hargraves straightened. “Ah, perhaps you don’t speak Tourinian.”
“I do,” Brigitta croaked, then cleared her throat.
“Heartbroken, are you?” The old woman waved a bony hand when Brigitta stiffened. “No point in denying it. I’ve endured enough heartbreak in my life to recognize it when I see it. So why are you here alone?”
Brigitta eased back onto the log and stretched her cramped legs in front of her. The pelican was still nearby, watching them. “I didn’t feel like celebrating.”
“I don’t mean them.” Granny Hargraves motioned toward the party. “Why aren’t you with the one you want to be with? Did he not come to the island with you?” Her voice softened. “Has he passed away?”
“He’s fine.” Brigitta glanced at the celebration. “I suppose he’s here somewhere. But it is not possible for us to be together.”
“Is he married?”
Brigitta shook her head. At least, she assumed he wasn’t. Surely if he had a secret wife stashed somewhere she would have seen that in a vision. “It’s just not possible.”
“I see.” The old woman settled her thin frame on the log and set the earthenware pitcher in her lap. “Did you know I was the daughter of an earl? I fell in love with a sailor, and of course, everyone told us it was not possible.”
Brigitta turned to face her. “What happened?”
Granny Hargraves smiled. “We married and had five children and twenty-three grandchildren.” Her smile faded. “He passed away two years ago. His grave is not far from here. I was on my way to see him when I spotted you.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“No need to be. We had fifty-four wonderful years together.” Granny Hargraves lifted the pitcher. “I was taking this to his grave, so I could share it with him.”
“You were together a long time.”
“Aye.” The old woman snorted. “But looking back, it doesn’t seem long at all. Life is too short to live with regrets. And you never know what’s truly possible until you try. Is your man not worth a try?”
Brigitta sighed. “He’s worth everything I could ever give him.”
“So why are you alone?”
Brigitta’s eyes burned with tears. “I’m afraid he would never be able to love me back.”
“Ah. Well, you’ll never know if you don’t ask.” With a groan, Granny Hargraves hefted herself to her feet. “Love is a more powerful force than you think, child. You should believe in it and believe in yourself. If he’s a smart man, he will see your true worth.”
The old woman headed farther south down the beach, and Brigitta sat alone, wondering what Rupert actually thought of her. He had to know what her father had done, and he’d spoken of revenge, but he’d never directed his anger at her. That one time when she’d felt his emotions, she’d sensed desire. Yearning.
He’d been desperate to make sure he could safely touch her. I like touching you. And when she’d lamented that she came from a family of monsters, he’d said, “You’re not like them.”
She rose to her feet. Could he accept her as she was?
With a wince, she realized that even if he said it didn’t matter who her father was, it would still matter to her. She would still feel guilty. Unworthy. The true problem here was that she couldn’t accept herself. How could she bear to face him, knowing that her father had destroyed his life?
“I have to make it right,” she whispered. She couldn’t sit back and do nothing when it was her family that had started this mess. She had to get off this island and fight for Rupert. Somehow, she needed to help him regain his throne.
Words of love wouldn’t be enough. If she truly loved him, she needed to act. And it was only through her actions that she would earn his trust. And feel worthy of his love.
She squared her shoulders. “You can do this.”
Determination pounded through her with each step she took toward the village. She scanned the crowd, but couldn’t spot Rupert anywhere.
“Brigitta!” Sister Fallyn approached her, carrying a plate of food. “Come and eat. The lamb is wonderful, but the bread…” She wrinkled her nose. “I think I’ll have to help them out in the bakery.”
“Do ye know where Rupert is?”
“Oh. He went somewhere with Stefan.” Sister Fallyn motioned to the hilly coastline on the north side of the village. “Stefan said he owns that land. They’ll return soon enough. Ye could have a bite to eat while we wait.”
Brigitta spotted a lantern far in the distance. The conversation she needed to have with Rupert was best done in private. “I’ll be back later.”
She ignored the nun’s objections that it was too dark and too chilly and hurried to the outskirts of the village. There, with the light of the stars and two moons, she could make out a narrow path that wound up into the hills.
Long grass brushed against her skirt as she climbed, following the flickering light of the lantern.
*
“She saw your past memories?” Stefan tripped over a clump of grass and nearly fell over.
Rupert snorted. “I reacted about the same way.” He lowered the lantern to better illuminate their path.
“Damn,” Stefan muttered. “I’ve never heard of a gift like that.”
“I know. She saw the ambush, the battle—”
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