Chapter 7

Valerie

Vincent watched her go, stunned and more than a little ashamed. He knew he had hurt her somehow, not just at this moment, but repeatedly over the last five years. And he had never meant to. She had always been a staunch friend to him and to Jacob and to the whole community. She had helped him rescue Jacob from Gabriel – even thinking the man’s name made his rage threaten to rise again – and she had avenged Catherine’s death. She had given Vincent someone to lean on in a time when he desperately needed her and had never pressed for more than friendship, though he had known for some time that she longed to do just that.

He turned and made his way slowly back toward the home chambers, deep in thought. Would he condemn her – and himself – to more years of loneliness and yearning? Could he give his heart to her, when it belonged, forever, to Catherine? In spite of the years since her death he had to admit that Diana was right about one thing – he still loved Catherine and always would. He could never forget her, especially with her living image always before his eyes in the face of his son. Nor did he want to forget her. She had been his heart and his life. Had the choice been his, he would have gladly given his life to save hers.

But she was gone, and she would not want him to spend his life alone. Just as he had often told her to "find someone to love," she would tell him that now, if she could.

He did not know if it was possible, or fair, to try. Yes, he was fond of Diana and even loved her, but it did not and could not compare to the love he had felt for Catherine. Any romantic relationship with another would be a pale imitation of what he’d had with Catherine, and no other woman could ever own his entire heart as she had. If he could not give Diana his whole heart, was it fair to ask her to live forever in another’s shadow, as she herself had said would be the case?

"Vincent?" Bridget’s voice came from a side tunnel, and Vincent halted his steps as she approached. She put her head on one side to study him as she entered the circle of torchlight and her eyes were sober. "Ye’ve somethin’ on your mind."

He inclined his head.

"Do ye need a listening ear, then?" she asked. "I’ve nothin’ but time tonight."

"What about Devin?"

She smiled. "I think his ‘baby brother’ needs me more at the moment. Besides, he’s regalin’ the children with wild tales sure to haunt their dreams and just as sure to meet with Father’s hearty disapproval, but Father needn’t know that."

Vincent smiled in spite of his inner turmoil. He well remembered some of Devin’s "wild tales" from when they had been boys and often they had kept him awake and jumping at shadows all night.

Bridget came closer and slipped her arm through his. "Come, Vincent. Show me your world and talk as we walk so you don’t have to look at me if it makes you uncomfortable, and unburden your heart."

He marveled anew at how perceptive she was, and also that she was likely the very person who could help him untangle the knot around his heart. "It’s Diana."

"And Catherine," she added.

"Yes."

"Ah, laddie," she said, sighing. "How well I know this pain. You’re drawn to the one and feelin’ disloyal to the other because of it."

"You have not remarried since your husband’s death," Vincent said quietly.

She shook her head. "No. Nor have I been tempted, until now."

Vincent raised an eyebrow.

"Devin," she said with a smile. "He’s a rascal, as you know yourself, but he’s a fine man under the bravado, with a good heart."

"Yes, he is," Vincent agreed. "I did not think he would, well …"

"Be my type?" she suggested with a laugh. "No, perhaps not. But life changes us, darlin’, and the man who won my heart when I was a girl might not even know me now. Devin understands me, and I think he loves me, and neither is a thing to be lightly tossed aside, Vincent." She stopped him and turned to face him. "Does Diana understand you?"

"Frighteningly well," he replied with the candor he knew she expected of him.

"Does she love you?"

"Yes. In spite of my …"

"Yer what?"

"Refusal to return her love," he said after a long pause.

"Search yer heart, lad," Bridget said gently. "Do ye really not love her back? Or is it just that ye can’t forgive yerself for doing so?"

"Catherine –"

"Catherine was a part of yer soul," Bridget said. "As you were a part of hers. I never saw the like of the two of you, certain sure, but would she want ye to pine away the rest of yer days? Do ye expect the love of that fine boy of yours to fill yer whole heart? Someday Jacob’s going to grow up and find a love of his own, maybe give ye grandchildren, and you’ll love the lot of them to distraction because that’s yer way, but who’ll keep ye warm at night, lad?"

"Bridget, I can’t love Diana the way I loved Catherine. Still love Catherine."

"You love Catherine’s memory, Vincent," Bridget said. "And ‘tis a sweet pain, I know, as I told ye before. That doesn’t mean you can’t love another. Ye’ll love her differently, that’s all. You don’t love young Jacob the same as you love Jamie or Mouse, do ye? Or Devin?"

"But Jacob is my son. Our son."

"Vincent," Bridget shook her head and squeezed his hand. "Darlin’, I don’t believe for a minute that big heart of yours loves your adopted family less ‘cause they’re not of your blood. You love ‘em differently, but would you love a blood brother more than you love Devin? Honestly, now."

Vincent considered, and finally shook his head.

"Aye, now you’re tellin’ yerself the truth," she said. "Diana’s a different woman than Catherine in almost every way, and she’s got the grit to face ye down and tell ye so. And truth is, it might not work out that the two of ye make a good pair, but ye’ll never know unless ye try, and Catherine shoulda taught you to try, if nothin’ else."

"Bridget –" he paused, because even now he found it difficult to admit out loud what he thought in his heart.

She waited, her eyes on his.

"How can a woman, any woman, want … me?"

She smiled. "Vincent, lad, how do they resist?" She came closer and hugged him tight. "Ye’re a handsome devil with the heart of a warrior and the soul of a poet. Diana’s a big girl. Give her a chance. Give yourself a chance."