If there was a way, he must find it or be driven mad by the two warring halves of his soul.
Cassidy herself had suggested a possible means, a symbol of hope for them both. He could not give Cassidy a child of his body, but he could help fill the void he had made and undo some part of the wrong his rage had perpetrated.
Mikhail must be brought back to Greyburn. All at once Braden saw how it could be done. But there were still no guarantees.
“Cassidy,” he said, keeping all emotion from his voice, “I must go away for a while… a fortnight or two, perhaps.”
“Go away?” The bed bounced as she jumped up. “The Convocation just ended!”
He was not prepared to give her the real reasons he had to leave, not when they might raise her hopes too high. “I have business on the Continent that cannot wait.”
“But I thought that we could finally be together—”
“My duties have not disappeared because I married you, Cassidy. I am still responsible for this estate, my family’s interests, and the Cause. And the Russians must be dealt with.” He swung his feet over the bed. “You won’t lack for whatever you need here at Greyburn. You have a home now.”
“My home is with you.”
He patted her hand. “I’ll see to it that Mrs. Fairbairn and Aynsley make themselves available to show you the workings of Greyburn in greater detail and suggest appropriate activities. You’ll have plenty to keep you busy.”
“The way Rowena’s busy? Locked up in her room, waiting for someone else to decide—”
“We will not discuss Rowena. I have explained how it must be.” He turned to give her a perfunctory kiss on the forehead, deliberately cooling his lust. “Go to sleep, Cassidy.”
“Where are you going?”
“For a run in the wood.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“No.” It was a blunt command. He had to be by himself, out of this maelstrom of emotion. “Don’t wait up for me.”
He heard the bedsprings creak as she lay down, tugging the sheets up over her shoulders. The urge to join her was strong, but he resisted it.
“Sleep well, Cassidy,” he said. He passed soundlessly through the hidden doorway at the back of the room and gave himself up to the night.
But the sheer joy of the Change, the freedom of running as a wolf, the vibrant scents and sounds of the wood were no longer enough. There was an empty space at his side that only one woman in the world could fill.
Cassidy was still asleep when he left for Dover.
Eighteen
“I beg your pardon. Lady Greyburn.” It was several moments before Cassidy realized that the voice was addressing her. Since her marriage to Braden, she’d never become used to the title. It didn’t mean anything—not to her or to anyone else at Greyburn.
She turned from the drawing room windows to face Telford in the doorway. Lord Greyburn had not been in residence for nearly four weeks, and his wife’s authority was limited. Not that Cassidy wanted to rule the servants, or take on the duties Mrs. Fairbairn carried out so well, let alone play great lady among the human tenants she had yet to meet. She wouldn’t know how if she tried.
But she might as well have been back at the ranch in New Mexico, avoided and ignored. “Lady Greyburn” was unable to assist those who most needed her help.
“Have you been feeling better this morning, my lady?” Telford said. “If you wish me to send for a physician—”
“No. It’s nothing, really.” Cassidy rubbed her waist through the snug bodice of her morning gown. Lately it seemed that she woke up early every day with the feeling that she was about to lose her last meal, even when there wasn’t much in her stomach. And she’d lost her appetite for many things she used to like.
Werewolves could heal themselves of almost everything, it seemed, yet she couldn’t cure an upset stomach. Maybe it was her human blood.
“Very well, Lady Greyburn,” Telford said, his mouth twisting with disapproval. “I wished to report on Lady Rowena, as you requested. She has sent back the soup and bread you took to her. I fear it remains untouched.”