My Heart Stood Still by Lynn Kurland (best book club books of all time .TXT) 📕

Thomas was silent.

She looked at him briefly before she stepped inside the chamber. She touched the armoire, the desk, the tapestry frame. She sat down in a chair near the window and felt as if she'd done the same thing hundreds of times. There were bound manuscripts sitting on a small stool in front of her. She picked them up and almost managed a smile at the drawings on the covers. She opened her mouth to ask whom the books belonged to, then realized she had no need.

They were hers.

She looked at Thomas, who still stood just inside the doorway.

"I... I..."

He pushed off the door frame and came to sit down across from her. The familiarity of the scene struck her with such force, she could scarce breathe. Thomas said nothing. He merely waited, looking at her with concern that was plain even to her unschooled eye.

"The chamber is beautiful," she managed finally.

"I'm glad you like it"

"Did you make it for..."

"Yes."

Why couldn't she say her own name? She looked about the chamber again and saw the loving details that had been put there for a woman's comfort. Her comfort—though she suspected that if she had in truth been a spirit, she likely hadn't had much use for a tapestry needle. It was a place of peace, though, and obviously built with love. Iolanthe looked at Thomas and found that she could manage at least a small smile.

"Thank you," she said quietly. " 'Tis very peaceful."

He nodded. "That was the intention."

She looked out the window. Her surroundings should have soothed her. Instead, they unsettled her. She knew that the truth of an existence she couldn't remember was all around her, but she could hardly bear to look at it.

"May we go?" she asked, rising suddenly.

She didn't wait for him to answer. She fled from the chamber and down the stairs. She gained the front gate before the tears were falling so fast that she could no longer see. She stood there and sobbed.

But she didn't weep alone for very long. She felt Thomas's hands on her shoulders, then found herself turned around and drawn into his arms.

"Oh, Iolanthe," he whispered. "I'm so sorry."

She flung her arms around him and wept as if her heart was breaking. She wasn't sure that it wasn't. There behind her in that accursed keep was undeniable proof that Thomas had built a chamber for a woman who bore her name, a woman he had loved and who had likely loved him in return.

A woman she didn't know.

But one she was beginning to remember.

She pulled back, sniffed, then scrubbed away her tears with her sleeve.

"Forgive me," she said.

He released her, though she sensed that it was reluctantly done. She knew it was the wisest course for her, though, so she didn't say aught.

"Perhaps we should go home," he said.

"Home?" she asked. "My home? In Scotland?"

He hesitated—but only slightly. "Yes," he said firmly.

She wanted it. She wanted to go home with every fiber of her being, though she knew that her keep would be different. Her family, such as it was, wouldn't be there. But to walk on her land again, to feel the sun on her face and smell the meadow flowers—aye, perhaps home was the place for her. At least she would feel more herself there. She would recognize where she was walking only because she'd once put a mortal foot there. This business of almost remembering things she couldn't possibly have seen before was more than she could bear.

She looked up at Thomas, trying to judge his willingness to do such a thing. He had traveled so far already on her behalf. Could she truly ask him to take her so much farther?

And if he was unwilling to take her back, what was she to do? She couldn't force him.

"The inn," she said, before she could make a fool of herself by begging. "I only meant home to the inn."

He looked at her skeptically, but said nothing.

Iolanthe scarce remembered the journey back. She managed to get herself through the doorway before she pleaded a headache and escaped to her chamber. Mrs. Pruitt came some time later with a tray of foodstuffs for her. Iolanthe ate heartily, then spent the rest of the afternoon and a goodly portion of the evening staring out her window at nothing.

It was very late before she stirred. She wandered around her chamber like a restless spirit, then realized what she was doing. She had no need to haunt such a small space. She left the chamber, then descended the steps.

She turned into the sitting chamber. She didn't know how she knew where it was, but she did. The thought was dismaying, but she ignored it.

She sat down before the fire. She saw something out of the corner of her eye and whirled around to look.

There was nothing there.

But she couldn't deny the feeling that she was no longer alone. She knew that if she could have looked hard enough, stretched herself enough, she would have been able to see what her mortal eyes could not.

She leaned back in her chair with a sigh. "I cannae see ye," she grumbled. "Leave off yammerin' at me."

Silence descended. Iolanthe closed her eyes. Her first day at Thomas's inn. She couldn't say it had been a success.

She could only hope the rest of her days wouldn't be passed in like manner.

Chapter 38

Thomas looked at Iolanthe standing in the front doorway, gazing with longing at her stolen horse that grazed in Mrs. Pruitt's front yard, and wondered about the advisability of what he currently contemplated. It wasn't that he didn't have things to keep him busy. He could have spent another day going through all the treasures Lord Roger had forced on them. He could have gone up to the castle and found something to swing a hammer against. He could have looked for a hill and climbed it a dozen times. On his hands.

Instead,