The Black Knight of Ashfern

Chapter 19

He did not answer. He said nothing. And for two months, he continued to say nothing, though if his silence was to punish or to stew in his petulant sorrow was anyone's guess. What was certain was that Sir William was taking great pains to avoid the woman who had so readily tossed aside his affections. Why he had ever spoken of his hope for her love, he did not know. All he remembered was that he had, and now things were strained between them, worse than before.

Why? Why couldn't she love him? He knew he was not handsome, his temper was ill, and many feared him, but she never had. It pained him that her indifference to his looks and temper had not meant that her ability to see him would allow her to see herself loving him. It enraged him that she would not even give him an answer as to why she could not or would not love him.

Though, as angry as he had been at the time, he knew his accusation that she refused him because she could not stand the sight of him was wrong. Nan was many infuriatingly fascinating things, but squeamish had never been one of them. And his bark on her taking up with him for his money was yet another barb he had cast out in moronic haste. If she had been after his money, she would have made an issue for coin. She would have grabbed anything she could get her hands on while his purse strings were still wide open. And they still were, but still, she asked for nothing.

And she still gave nothing. His dark angel was cruel in her kindness. A kindness that she showed to all, even him. And he wished so fervently that she would not. That she would withhold, even if just a little, from the rest and give only to him. Or that she would cease entirely and allow him to hate her as he so wanted but was unable to find significant reason to. She had been honest in her reply that she did not love him. But that she would not even entertain the thought that she might come to love him.

It stuck in his heart like a needle; driving deeper each day he woke to find her within his walls, but so far beyond his grasp.

William knew she'd had a life before Ashfern. He knew she was not a simple creature and was more intelligent than any woman he had ever met. Indeed, she was braver, sweeter, and as loyal as Hoss. But he knew nothing of what had made her this way. He could understand her refusing him if something in her past would make an issue of it sometime in the future, but she never spoke of it, not to him, to Hoss, or to anyone. 

But if her silence had driven him to find Hoss, her secrets had driven him to find her—no matter her feelings on the subjects. For too long, he had let her secrets lay, thinking they were either too painful to be remembered or too shameful to be spoken of. He could be content with the contrary beggar girl who had found him on the beach, but now, he felt he could not. He needed a reason for her refusal that would explain why she would be anything for him but the love he sought.

Until he could find that reason, he would need a better outlet than spending his nights in Carrie's company. For despite her eagerness and skill, William had found he had lost his taste for the seductive redhead. Her tempting and teasing did nothing for him; if anything, her slightest touch left him feeling raw and angry, even guilty. And he had noticed his trysts with Ashfern's Madam growing shorter and his nights of drinking growing longer.

More often than not, he discovered himself waking with a throbbing skull and barely any recollection of the night before. He would awaken in locations he did not remember going to; he would find his clothes messy, muddy, bloody, and torn. His knuckles were raw and frequently covered in blood. On one occasion, his face had been so swollen from the beating he had taken the night before that he could not open his left eye. Luckily, Hoss had taken to following him when he left Stonebrook each night and made sure the Black Knight did nothing that could not be made right with a few coins, if not an entire purse.

However, he wondered when even that would cease to be enough. William directed his rage at anything and anyone, save its source, who was currently walking the beach below Stonebrook with a wily child chasing after the surf.