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She rose unsteadily to her feet, moving to the window to stare out at the gray Atlantic. “I will continue as I have been. Watching from the shadows, ensuring they do not discover anything too dangerous. When their lease expires, they will leave, and life will return to normal.”

“That is not living,” Mrs. Roskelly said quietly. “That is merely existing.”

“Perhaps existing is all that is possible for someone like me.”

The housekeeper rose as well, gathering her scattered laundry with brisk movements that suggested frustration. “I do not believe that. And I do not think ye truly believe it either, no matter what ye say.”

Isolde said nothing, continuing to stare out at the endless sea. Somewhere below, in the Hall of Reflections or the library, Angelo continued his search. Would he look for her tonight? Would he return to the mirrored chamber, hoping she would appear?

Part of Isolde yearned to go to him, to feel his arms around her again, to share his kiss and pretend, for a few more stolen moments, that she could be normal. That she could be wanted, not pitied.

But another part, the part that had learned through painful experience to protect itself, whispered that continuing down that path would only lead to greater heartbreak.

Better to end it now. Better to retreat into the shadows where she belonged, before Angelo’s kindness convinced her to hope for things that could never be.

Mrs. Roskelly paused at the door, her face troubled. “Will ye be all right, child?”

Isolde managed a weak smile. “I am always all right. I have had years of practice at it.”

It was not really an answer, and they both knew it. But Mrs. Roskelly simply nodded and departed, leaving Isolde alone with her thoughts and the endless song of wind over the cliffs.

She sank into the chair by her window facing inland, watching shadows lengthen across the courtyard below. Soon it would be evening, then night. The household would retire to their chambers, and Angelo would likely return to the Hall of Reflections, seeking her.

She should not go to him. Should not encourage whatever this was between them. It could lead nowhere good, only to pain and disappointment when he finally saw her clearly and understood the full extent of what he had involved himself with.

But even as Isolde resolved to stay away, she knew it was a lie.

She would go. Would seek him out as she had the previous nights. Would take whatever scraps of affection he offered, hoarding them against the inevitable loneliness that would return when he left.

Because for all her fears and self-protection, Isolde had tasted something in Angelo’s kiss that she had never experienced before.

Hope.

And even knowing it was foolish, even knowing it would likely end in heartbreak, she could not bring herself to surrender it.

Not yet.

Not while there remained even the smallest possibility that Angelo might truly see her, all of her, marks and all, and still choose to stay.

CHAPTER 12

“This moment brings with it a conviction that overpowers me!—I am dear to you then—still dear …”

Ann Radcliffe

* * *

Angelo left his chamber close to midnight, lantern in hand, his heart weighted with an apprehension that had been building since the sun had set behind the churning Atlantic horizon.

The wind had been singing over the cliffs for more than an hour now, that familiar, haunting chorus that seemed to be Grimsfell’s constant companion. He had grown accustomed to the sound in the handful of days since their arrival, had come to anticipate the ethereal organ notes that would thread through the gale’s mournful keening. But tonight, there had been no music calling to him through the iron grates that honeycombed this ancient manor.

No summons from Isolde.

Despite her promise. Despite saying she would see him tonight.

Perhaps she has reconsidered.

The thought was not welcome. Angelo paused at the top of the stairs, lifting the lantern higher as if its wavering light might reveal some truth the darkness was concealing. The flame guttered in an errant draught, casting wild shadows that seemed almost alive, almost watching.