Behind the Mask (27 page)

“It’s not
my
story. It’s true, you know. It really happened.”

Cameron had to admit, “Yes, I suppose it did.” He took her hand and asked, “You think Joseph missed those he loved? Do you think he felt angry toward those who had betrayed and wronged him?”

“I’m certain he did.”

“Do you think he ever wondered if he’d done something to deserve his bondage?”

“I would imagine.”

Abbi held her breath as Cameron squeezed his eyes shut and anguish overtook his countenance. The statement had struck something painful in him, and she nearly expected him to get up and leave, but instead he squeezed her hand more tightly and her heart quickened. “Oh, Abbi,” he muttered, “I lost so much.” His voice cracked. “And I don’t know why.”

There were a thousand questions Abbi wanted to ask, but she knew from experience that they would be more likely to stop him from talking at all. Instead she put her arms around him, silently letting him know that she felt compassion for his pain. She was surprised when he took hold of her arms and pressed his face to her shoulder as if he might drown without her. “Oh, Abbi,” he murmured again, “I don’t understand.”

He eased back to look into her eyes as if she could answer his plea. But how could she? She knew so little of his circumstances. She only knew how she felt about him. But even that was difficult, if not impossible, to express. In so many ways they were still practically strangers. Not knowing what to say, she simply touched his face, hoping to offer some kind of assurance.

Cameron looked into Abbi’s eyes, wondering as he often did if she were real. If he had contemplated, even for a moment, the internal struggle he might feel tomorrow, he never would have kissed her. But his emotions were raw and open. Nothing but impulsive desperation guided his lips to hers.

“Abbi,” he murmured, kissing her as if he had a right to. He eased back to look into her eyes. She seemed as surprised as he felt. But he wondered how this could feel so right when he had no reason to believe that whatever he shared with Abbi would ever last more than a fleeting moment. Still, there was something warm and hopeful in her eyes, and he couldn’t find any reason to keep from kissing her again. Even knowing that his kiss was admitting to feelings he’d been fighting to resist, his desire overpowered his will. He kissed her as if she might actually hold a promise for his future, all the while knowing deep inside that such hopes were futile. His desire to look at her severed his lips from hers. But Abbi kept her eyes closed while she pondered his face with her fingers and urged her lips again to his. She was thirst and he was water. But surely it was the other way around. He felt one of her delicate hands move over his neck while the other crept into his hair. He kissed her cheek, her neck, the tip of her ear. She whispered his name and pressed the side of her face to his, and he found it possible to believe that the simple value of human contact had as much meaning for her as it did for him. Fighting to keep control of his senses, he resisted the compulsion to kiss her again, and instead looked into her eyes. She touched his face with trembling fingertips while her countenance expressed perfect acceptance. How could it be? How could this woman so precious, and fine, and exalted, ever find anything worthy of such innocent devotion in the crumbled man he had become?

“Oh, Abbi,” he murmured, allowing her name to hover on his lips with the memory of her kiss. He took her face into his hands and pressed his thumbs over her cheeks, wanting to kiss her again but compelled by the need to just touch her and look at her. Fearing he might truly lose control of his senses, Cameron reminded himself of who he was and what he was doing. He let go of her and eased away, but he couldn’t keep from watching her while a deep ache settled into him. How he wished that life could have been different, that he had come upon Abbi in a different time and place when he had been a man with something to give her.

While Abbi’s lips tingled from Cameron’s kiss, she absorbed his silent yearning, longing to read his thoughts. She feared that by morning he would neatly forget what was transpiring now. But she resigned herself to enjoy the moment. They gazed into each other’s eyes, but there was no uneasiness between them as there often had been. Seeing his expression, she nearly anticipated some deep confession to gush out of him. But he only cleared his throat tensely and looked toward the floor, as if he were embarrassed by his affection.

Abbi sighed and turned away, unable to explain the feelings he wrought in her, especially at moments like this when his mysterious guard was let down, overtly betraying that she meant something to him. But perhaps, Abbi had to admit in all honesty, he had been alone for so long that it was merely her companionship he was attracted to.

“Merry Christmas, Cameron,” she said with the tenderness she was feeling, hoping to break the tension.

Cameron turned toward her and smiled. “Merry Christmas,” he repeated, then became lost in thought.

Abbi wondered why he looked so distressed. Or was he sad? Not wanting to let go of the tranquility of the moment, she searched for conversation that might prolong their time together and also satisfy her curiosity. “Tell me what you wanted to be,” she said. Cameron looked baffled and she clarified, “When you were a child, what did you want to be when you grew up?”

Cameron looked sad as he answered, “I wanted to be a blacksmith, actually. I remember sitting for hours as a child, watching one at work.” He chuckled. “I thought it looked fun. I was much older before I noticed how much the poor man was sweating.” Regret replaced his humor. “And I always wanted to be a father.”

“Are you?”

“No—in both cases.”

“What did you become?” she asked. He looked directly at her, as if he sensed what she was after.

“A fugitive,” he said.

With the subject open, Abbi persisted. “Forgive me, but . . . I can’t help wondering how you came to be accused of your wife’s death.”

Cameron looked surprised but not upset. His expression darkened as he stared into the fire. “I believe I mentioned before that our marriage was not good. But the real problems began when I heard rumors that she’d become involved with another man. Our relationship had dwindled to practically nothing anyway, so I just tried to ignore it and live my life. One morning while I was in town I received a message from her, saying she needed to speak to me at once. Naturally I hurried, hoping something good might come of it, but I . . .” he hesitated, “I found her dead. A kitchen knife . . . through the heart.” Abbi felt a little sick at the thought, and could only imagine how Cameron must have felt. “I knelt down beside her,” he continued. “I felt so . . . horrified, so shocked, so full of regret, wishing that I . . . had loved her more, or come sooner, or not been . . .” He paused and looked at Abbi sadly.

“Been what?”

“I suppose I wasn’t the kind of man she wanted for a husband. I worked hard to give her what she wanted, to be what she wanted. But it was never enough.”

“I’m sorry,” Abbi whispered.

“For what?”

“That she was such a fool . . . not to see what a good man she had.”

Cameron reached out to take her hand, squeezing it tenderly. “If you keep saying things like that, I won’t let you go home.”

Abbi wanted to say she would gladly stay with him forever, but she felt compelled to keep her feelings to herself. “Then what happened?” she asked.

“I pulled the knife out because I couldn’t bear to see it there, and suddenly my bedroom was filled with several officers of the Guard. It was obvious that I’d been set up. I was arrested. A friend helped me escape, and I’ve been here ever since.” He looked directly at her. “Now you know.”

“How did you come by this mountain retreat, so perfectly secluded?”

“My grandfather built it with the help of a friend. He liked the quiet life and planned it all carefully for long periods of solitude. He gave it to my father, who gave it to me. Once Gwen died, no one living knew of this place but me and a friend of mine.”

“Tell me about your father,” she said.

“I didn’t know him very well; we weren’t close. There’s not much to tell. He died many years ago.”

“But he gave you all of this?”

Cameron smiled. “Yes, a very long time ago. You look tired,” he added. “I’m boring you.”

“Oh, not at all,” she said.

Cameron was silent a moment and his sad expression returned.

“What are you thinking, Cameron?”

“Just dwelling a little in the past, I suppose.”

Abbi touched his face, loving the affection they’d shared that made doing so possible. “Is it the past that makes you so sad? Or is it the past you’re hiding from?”

He looked defensive but his voice didn’t betray it. “I failed in my past, and . . .”

“And you should look to the future.”

“There is no future. For me there is only the present.”

After months of looking into his eyes, Abbi looked there now and discovered a new level of understanding. Cameron was a broken man. She could almost feel his inner anguish in believing his life was truly over, and he’d have no chance to redeem his past or find any joy in his future. She wanted desperately to say something to make his hurt go away, to help him see himself the way that she saw him. Instinctively she knew he had no comprehension of the future in his present state of mind. Wanting to offer some positive point, she pressed a kiss to his cheek and whispered, “Then we must find joy in the present.”

Cameron looked into her eyes, wondering how any woman could be so good. He
wanted
to feel joy, sharing such moments with her. But in his heart he could only believe that her presence in his life was simply prolonging the inevitable. Spring would come, she would leave, and nothing would change for him. Eventually he would return to the place he had been before he found her, and his life would come to a tragic and lonely end. Recalling too vividly that state of mind, his fear of her leaving him to face it again felt tangible and stark. He forced thoughts of it willfully away and changed the subject, hoping at least to satisfy his curiosity over something that he’d wondered since she’d first come here. Reaching out to take the little black pearl between his fingers, he asked with genuine fascination, “Why do you wear this? I assume it has significance.”

“It does,” she said, “although it might sound rather silly.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I’ve never seen you without it.”

“I’ve never taken it off,” she said while Cameron continued to examine the tiny gem with his fingers. “My father gave it to me soon after my mother died. At the time, the chain was long and it hung down much farther, but as you can see, I’ve grown into it.”

“Then it holds sentiment for your father? Your mother?”

“Neither, really,” she said. “It was something he purchased after her death, so it had no connection to her, and he gave it to me as something of a parting gift. He was leaving me in his father’s care. As I told you, I was never really close to my father. The sentiment of his gift is more in the explanation he gave me of its meaning.”

Cameron smiled. “Now you’ve really got me curious.”

“A black pearl is rare, he told me. Anyone can own a white pearl. But this black pearl is clearly unique because it’s imperfect; it’s far from round, as you can see. It’s also very beautiful. He told me that like this pearl I am unique, that I should never try to be like any other woman, but find joy and fulfillment in simply being who I am.” She laughed softly. “Maybe that’s why I’m so stubborn about not conforming to society’s expectations.”

Cameron smiled at her again, his eyes sparkling with some kind of enchantment. “Or maybe your father saw something wonderful and unique in you at a very early age that he hoped to encourage, even in his absence.”

“Maybe,” Abbi said, looking down. As always, thoughts of her father left her unsettled.

“You want to know what I think?” he asked, letting go of the pearl to lift her chin and look into her eyes. “I think your father is a very wise man, and I agree with him completely. You
are
unique, Abbi—and very beautiful; unlike any woman I’ve ever known.”

For a long moment Abbi became lost in his eyes, wanting to treasure up the words he’d just spoken. She was relieved when he kissed her, and disappointed when his kiss was brief and he hurried to change the subject. Still, he held her hand in his as they talked far into the night, until Abbi couldn’t stay awake any longer. “I must get some sleep,” she said, forcing herself to stand up. “I didn’t get a nap, you know.”

“Thank you again,” he said, “for an unforgettable day.”

“It was purely my pleasure. And I should thank you—for the gift.” Abbi bent to place a kiss on his cheek. “Good-night, then.”

“Good-night,” he replied and watched her walk away.

The following morning, Abbi was not surprised to find Cameron cool toward her, and mostly silent. But she couldn’t deny her disappointment, and rather than ignoring his changed mood as she’d done in the past, she ventured to question him.

“Is something bothering you?” she asked.

“No, why?”

“I have to wonder why you become so closed toward me after anything good or tender passes between us.”

Cameron’s expression hovered between angry and astonished. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said and walked away.

Abbi sighed and followed him. “Cameron, why won’t you talk to me?”

His voice was toneless. “Isn’t that what we were doing last night?”

“Yes, but now . . . what I mean is . . . I wish that you would . . . really
talk
to me. Tell me what’s troubling you, Cameron, and—”

Cameron turned to face her, anger blazing in his eyes. “There are some things that I cannot, and will not, discuss with you.”

“And I take it that includes your feelings, your hurts and fears, your dreams.”

“I have no dreams, Abbi. A man in my position has nothing to wish for.”

“You were wishing last night.”

“Futile wishes. There is no point in discussing something so thoroughly fruitless.”

Cameron finished with a harsh glare, wanting to be done with this conversation. But Abbi looked at him as if she could see into his soul. He expected her to snap back in the same tone of voice that he’d thrown at her. But she said gently, “Forgive me, Cameron. I know you have your reasons. My intent is not to make you uncomfortable. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to tell me. But please, don’t push me away. I need you.”