Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 112133 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 561(@200wpm)___ 449(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112133 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 561(@200wpm)___ 449(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
“Rough night, boys?” Hands propped on her hips, she approached their table.
Harry looked up from a plate laden with eggs, bacon, rolls and jam. “Suppose you could say that.” He exchanged glances with Larry, and the two began chuckling.
Their laughter was echoed from a few other tables. Meredith slowly pivoted, taking the measure of her clientele. Now that she noticed it, a fair number of these men never darkened her door before midday.
“What?” she asked sternly. “What is it?”
The laughter only grew.
“Rough night indeed, Mrs. Maddox,” Larry said around a mouthful of eggs. “But the rough morning … now that belongs to your friend Ashworth.”
Dread seeped through her limbs. “What have you done?” Her voice shook a little, and she firmed her jaw to compensate. “Harold and Laurence Symmonds, tell me this instant. What have you done to him?”
“Easy, Mrs. Maddox,” Skinner said from the next table over. He winked at her over his coffee. “We didn’t hurt the man none.”
Harry muttered, “Not this time.”
The room broke into laughter again, but Meredith didn’t wait to sort it out. With a hasty word to Mrs. Ware as she passed through the kitchen, she tore out the back door of the inn and made a straight path up the rocky slope—the most direct route to the ruins of Nethermoor. If Rhys had hired the ponies, he would have to lead them up the circuitous footpath. Perhaps she could beat him there and intercept whatever unpleasant surprise Harold, Laurence, and the others had planned for him. How long had it been since he’d left that morning? An hour, perhaps? She would have to hurry.
After twenty minutes of hard walking and scrambling over uneven ground, she reached Bell Tor and skirted the ancient stacks of granite. Despite the warming sunlight, she shivered as she neared the ruins of Nethermoor Hall. Just over this crest was the flat where Rhys was building his cottage. Panting for breath and clutching her side, she climbed up those last few steep, rocky yards …
And found heartbreak waiting for her on the other side.
A half-dozen dappled ponies roamed the shallow depression, grazing happily on sedge and gorse. Their unloaded burdens of straw were stacked neatly in a pile, ready to be mixed with earth. And the foundation of Rhys’s cottage—the stones he’d spent a week hauling from the surrounding area and painstakingly fitting together to form a level, unshakable plinth—completely destroyed. Scattered to all corners of the moor.
Her heart twisted in her chest. So hard, she forgot all about the cramp in her side.
Rhys was there, stripped down to his shirt and breeches, clearing the area. Methodically picking up the stones one by one, then sorting them into piles by size. Preparing to build it all again.
She watched him in silence for a few minutes. When she approached, she could tell he sensed her presence. He didn’t greet her, however. He refused to meet her eyes.
“Oh, Rhys. I’m …” Her voice caught. Really, what could she say? “I’m so sorry this happened. I know you put so much work into it.”
So much work, and so much heart.
He gave a diffident shrug as he kept right on working. “I was worried I’d made the thing too small, anyhow. Now I can enlarge it.”
“Aren’t you angry?”
“What good would it do to get angry?” With a low grunt, he plucked a small boulder from the ground.
“I don’t know if it would do any good, but it would certainly be natural.”
He tossed the stone aside easily, as though it were an apple core. It landed with a resounding thud. “I’ve wasted most of my life being angry. Never changes a damn thing. I just end up hurting everything around me.”
Meredith hurt for him. She watched as he continued clearing and sorting the stones. His motions were brutish, and barely controlled. It couldn’t be healthy for him, holding his emotions in like that. If his unleashed anger inflicted damage on everything around him, what damage was it doing to him, when he kept it inside?
“Rhys …”
With a rock balanced in either hand, he strode over to confront her. His eyes burned into hers. “Tell me one thing.”
She mutely nodded her acquiescence. As if she could refuse.
“Did you know they were planning this? Is that why you came to my room this morning, tried to keep me in bed?”
“No,” she said quickly. “God, no.” Of all the horrid notions … no wonder he couldn’t bear to look at her. “Rhys, it wasn’t like that. I had no idea. You must believe me.”
With a rough sigh, he heaved the rocks aside. First one, then the other. “I believe you. Just had to ask.”
Before he could turn away, she caught his wrist. “Stop for a moment. Please?”
He stopped.
The wind gusted, tangling her skirt around her legs and forcing her to raise her voice. “I had no idea they’d do this last night, but I suspected they’d try something soon. You must understand, they’re concerned. I’m concerned, too. I heard what you told me earlier, about needing to build something here. And I understand, more than you could know. To you, this rebuilding plan is some kind of redemption, but to everyone in the village … it’s a threat.”