Page 120 of Rogue of My Heart

“I wish you’d let me tell him I was the one he saw creeping out of the crofter’s cottage that night,” Lord Garvagh went on. Marie’s brow shot up. “Then this whole tangle wouldn’t have happened.”

“I couldn’t bear it if he harmed you, Ned.” Lady Aoife’s plaintive words were followed by a heavy stillness and the faintest sounds of movement.

Marie turned to Christian, eyes wide, barely able to suppress her laughter. “They’re kissing,” she mouthed, pointing at the wall.

Instead of smiling and laughing along with her, Christian’s face crumpled into sorrow and defeat. He slumped against the wall, scrubbing his hands over his face.

Marie shifted to stand in front of him, her feet braced on either side of his. “What’s wrong?” she whispered, taking his hands away from his face.

“I’ve been such an idiot,” Christian admitted in a hushed voice. “You tried to tell me those two were in love and I was too blinded by grief to listen. You tried to tell me a lot of things.”

“This isn’t right,” Lady Aoife said with a burst of energy inside the spring house. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Yes, we should,” Lord Garvagh insisted. Marie was fairly certain Lady Aoife had tried to pull away and he’d stopped her, perhaps even pulled her back into his arms. “I love you, Aoife. I am the only man who has a right to marry you.”

Marie planted her hands against the wall on either side of Christian’s shoulders. She arched one eyebrow and nodded to the building, as if seconding what Lord Garvagh had said for herself where Christian was concerned.

“We’ve waited far too long to declare ourselves,” Lord Garvagh went on. “If we’d been bold enough to tell the world what we wanted from the beginning, we wouldn’t be in this bind.”

“If I’d put my foot down when my father insisted I marry her,” Christian echoed, resting his hands on Marie’s waist.

“It’s not too late,” Marie told him.

“But look at the mess we’re in now,” Lady Aoife said. “We’ve defied duty, and now look. We’re trapped in here.”

“Only for the time being,” Lord Garvagh said.

“But so much tragedy has occurred,” Lady Aoife insisted. “I cannot help but believe old Lord Kilrea and Lord Agivey’s deaths are divine retribution for the night of passion we spent together.”

Marie’s brow shot up so fast that it made her dizzy. She pressed her lips tightly shut to keep from bursting with laughter. It seemed she wasn’t the only wicked woman in County Antrim after all. She never would have guessed Lady Aoife had it in her.

Christian’s expression was still pained, though, and his shoulders slumped.

Marie opened her mouth to speak, but miraculously, Lord Garvagh beat her to it by saying, “God doesn’t punish us for love. Or for disobedience about something as small as ill-advised betrothals. The divine wants us to be happy in all things.”

“But the accident,” Lady Aoife tried to go on.

“Accidents happen,” Lord Garvagh said. “They just do. Without any rhyme or reason. They aren’t meted out as punishment for our sins. They are unfortunate coincidences, and we cannot throw away any chance we have for happiness because the world is an imperfect place. Daring to be happy in the face of tragedy is what gives life its meaning.”

Marie clasped the sides of Christian’s face as Lord Garvagh spoke, staring intensely into Christian’s eyes. Her heart echoed every word Lord Garvagh spoke and then some.

“It was not your fault,” she whispered, tears stinging at her eyes as emotion rushed in on Christian like a hurricane.

Christian nodded. It was a tiny movement, all things considered, but it carried within it a surrender that seemed to set Christian free. His eyes were still filled with grief and his face pinched with a fresh wave of pain, but everything else about him felt lighter, lifted up.

The extended silence from inside the springhouse hinted to Marie that Lady Aoife and Lord Garvagh were kissing again, and she’d be damned if they were the only ones. She leaned into Christian, slanting her mouth over his and pouring her heart and soul into kissing him. His arms surrounded her at once, his hands spreading across her back. He straightened, strength rushing back into him as he caressed her mouth with his and explored her with his lips and tongue. If Lord Garvagh kissed Lady Aoife half as passionately as Christian kissed her, the entire springhouse might burn down.

“I love you,” Christian whispered as he rained light kisses across her cheeks and chin. Marie tilted her head back so that he could nip and lick her neck. “I love you so much, Marie. I’m sorry I even considered marrying someone else.”

“I knew you would never go through with it,” Marie replied, eager to have his mouth on hers again. “And I know you’ve been grieving. So it’s easy to forgive you.”

“I’m sorry all the same,” he said. They stopped trying to keep their voices down.

Marie pulled away from him, taking a step back. She briefly registered something not right about the grass under her feet, but that was the least of her worries at the moment. “It’s all over now,” she said, grasping his hand as if to pull him away from the springhouse wall and taking another step back. “Let’s let them out of the trap and get everyone engaged to who they’re supposed to be engaged to.” She flickered one eyebrow. “And then we can go up to the house and?—”

She didn’t have a chance to finish her sentence. As she took another step back, a loud crack sounded under her, and the ground gave way, plunging her downward.

Twelve