Page 68 of A Gathering Storm

Nick grinned at her. “Ayes,” he agreed, and tipped back his tankard.

“Where are you goin’?” she persisted.

“Penzance,” he said, offering the minimum information.

She seemed to consider that a moment. “Jed ’Ammet said you was goin’ to join your Gypsy folk. Is that right, then?”

“Reckon it is,” he agreed.

“You travelled with them before?”

He shook his head.

“You better watch yourself then,” she said, with a sage nod. “I know you’re half Gypsy, but the fact is, you’re more like one of us, what with you growing up in the village. Not like your mother, rest her soul. She was always a wild one.”

Nick knew that Martha meant her warning kindly, but he was glad when she was called away to serve another customer before he could answer her. He raised his tankard and drank.

A little later, Gid Paget walked in.

“Well, look who it is!” he cried. “I thought you’d gone.” He clapped Nick on the shoulder.

“I’m leaving today,” Nick said. “Coach doesn’t go till four though.”

Gid grinned. “You sure you don’t want to stay? Old Godfrey’s been unbearable since Wednesday. In a right temper, ’e is.”

Wednesday had been Nick’s last day. Godfrey had sulked in his study, never showing his face and never summoning Nick. When he’d finished up, Nick had considered going to see him uninvited, but in the end, he’d decided against it. It had been drilled into him over the years that if Godfrey wanted him, he’d call for him. There was no reason to change things now. He’d made it halfway down the drive before Isabella came racing after him.

“Come and say good-bye, Nick, please,” she’d begged. “He’s being a stubborn old fool, but I know he wants to see you.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Bella,” he’d replied, and strode off, leaving her staring after him.

Now, he raised a brow at Gid Paget, and said, “Not likely. Where I’m going, there’s going to be no orders from anyone. It’ll be bleddy heaven.”

Gid laughed. “Ah, it sounds it. I envy you.”

They shared an ale together before Nick took his leave. After he left the inn, he walked another circuit of the village, chatting to the few villagers he saw on his way, confirming that yes, he’d given up his position with the Roscarrocks and was off on his travels. And yes, Snow was going with him, and it would be grand indeed to be free to do as he pleased for a while.

The clouds were still heavy and dark with the threat of rain, but Nick walked on, down to the mill stream where he used to meet Gabe sometimes. Strange, how difficult it was to remember those nights with Gabe now. All he could think of, when he tried, was Ward. Ward standing here, half-shadowed in the trees, his cheeks burning as he admitted spying on Nick. Waiting at the top of the staircase at Varhak Manor, bathed in golden sunlight. Tangled in the bedsheets beneath Nick, his warm eyes shining with happiness and his hair all mussed from their lovemaking.

Nick’s chest ached with longing. He felt so broken he wondered if he would ever be whole again. When Gabe had left Porthkennack, Nick had been unhappy, but not like this. He’d still been able to go about his daily business without thinking of Gabe, only feeling miserable at night as he lay alone in bed. When Gabe had gone, he’d mostly missed being touched, and having someone to talk to who understood his secret desires. Missing Ward was an entirely different thing. Towards the end, he’d come to feel as though he belonged to Ward, and Ward to him. That together, they were more than just Ward and Nick. A mated pair, perhaps, like the black swans that graced the village pond.

That was what he missed. Not just the companionship of someone like himself, buthis mate. No one else would do.

He had to get away. Had to try to find a new place in the world, or at least fill his days with so many new things that he wouldn’t have so much as a moment to dwell on his unhappiness. However he might feel now, he knew, rationally, that time would pass and things would get better. That was life. You lost people, and you had to live on. It was just that now, in this moment, it felt impossible.

Nick stood there, on the bank of the stream, and watched the water slowly moving past, the surface glassy smooth. He tried out a thought.

One day, the knowledge that I’ll never see him again won’t hurt.

His heart was unconvinced. It ached in a hollow way, pulsing with misery. He wondered if anyone passing would guess at his distress, or if they would just see a man standing quietly, peacefully, watching the water glide past.

Ward stared out the window of his study. The clouds were heavy and dark, but it still hadn’t rained. It would though. The water swelled inside the clouds, dragging them down low in the sky. The air was oppressive. There was going to be a storm. The sort of storm Ward had been hoping and praying for since he’d arrived in Porthkennack.

“You haven’t eaten a bite.”

Ward turned away from the window to find Pipp standing in the doorway, frowning at the untouched luncheon tray that sat on the desk where he’d deposited it the last time he’d come in. The soup in the dainty china tureen had gone cold and the neat little sandwiches were curled at the corners.

Ward shrugged. “I wasn’t hungry.”