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a good man, Elliot; I can see it in your eyes. But I cannot lie to you. I feel great love for Ian."

Elliot squeezed his eyes shut for a long moment, then slowly opened them. "You are still my wife."

"What do we do now?" she asked quietly.

"Do?" Elliot repeated. "Why, we go home."

One word. One little, four-letter word, and it obliterated everything.

Home.

For a split second, Ian didn't care about Elliot's pain or his face or his life. He wanted to rip the man's heart out and bury him in a cold, unmarked grave where no one would ever find the body, and pretend it had never happened.

He wanted ... oh, Jesus, he wanted it to be yesterday again.

Chapter Twenty-two.

Ian stood on the porch, arms crossed, eyes at half-mast. He didn't move, barely breathed. He felt stiff and fragile, as if a single touch could shatter him.

The stranger was Selena's husband. Word had spread in a heartbeat, growing louder and louder, punctuated by great, keening cries of sorrow. Even the inmates knew what it meant that Elliot had come.

He envied them their ability to grieve. Ian couldn't seem to do it. He felt numb, empty inside. He tried to find some remnant of the man he'd once been, and found that there was nothing left of that bitter, cynical loner, no more cold casing on his heart. Now he was the man Selena had turned him into, and he felt life so sharply, he couldn't hide from it anymore. The pain was a throbbing, burning ache in his chest.

Woodenly he'd ordered Edith to prepare a room for Elliot, then he'd watched the old man shuffle away.

But not far enough, just down the hall. Behind the closed door, the stranger waited for the dawn.

Ian wished Elliot were young and handsome and wealthy; that, Ian could deal with, could beat to a b.l.o.o.d.y pulp and walk away from. Anything but a scarred old man who'd searched for his wife and said he didn't know how he'd live without her.

He stared out at the night. She was out there somewhere, in the rainy darkness. He'd watched her run 283.

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from the house more than half an hour ago, and he told himself to let her be, that it would hurt too much to see her, but he'd known. Known he would go after her.

Ah, but what would he say?

Ian walked slowly down the creaking porch steps and into the night, across the gravelly path, toward the forest. Overhead, the sky was a rolling, pregnant gray belly, disgorging itself with a stinging shower of cold droplets. Rain pattered the trees, smacked the leaves and pelted his face. He went into the forest and felt his way along the path, touching the strong, rough trunks of the trees.

Stepping over the fallen log, he wound through the darkness and found her where he'd expected to, huddled in the wet ferns and mushrooms in her secret place.

For a moment, he didn't say anything, just drank in the sight of her, letting the moment crystallize into a memory. She sat kneeling amidst the shadowy foliage, soaking wet, her head bent, her hands full of trinkets. He knew what she held: a sh.e.l.l, worn smooth by the sea's endless kiss; a dried skein of kelp, twisted and blackened by the damp earth; the pale gray ball of her worry stone; and the bit of broken blue gla.s.s that reminded her of his eyes.

The grief came on him so hard, with such a cold, stinging slap, that for a moment he couldn't breathe.

"Selena." Her name fell from his lips, a whisper, a prayer.

She didn't answer, just closed her eyes and reached out her hand.

He surged forward and dropped to his knees beside her, taking hold of her hand, clinging to it.

At his touch, she made a small, choking sound of grief and shook her head. Then, slowly, she opened her eyes. Rain slid down her face in rivulets, dripped off the end of her nose and collected on her full lower lip. Her eyes were red and puffy.

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There were so many things to say, and yet there was nothing at all. He felt a surge of bitterness. She'd come to him as an empty sh.e.l.l, a lump of clay, and begged to be molded by him, instructed and rounded.

And he'd done it, he'd opened her mind to the universe of poetry and literature and romance. He'd searched within himself for the goodness, and once he'd found it, he defined it and offered it to her.

If only he hadn't found that goodness inside himself. If only he hadn't taught her so well.

He wanted to beg her not to leave him, wanted to crawl on his knees and beg her to have no honor.

She looked at him. "I have been thinking and thinking." She gave him a watery smile. "So much, my head aches and my eyes feel as if they are on fire. I keep wanting this to be a decision, and yet... there is no decision, is there?"

There it was, the truth that had beaten him, stripped away his soul and left him with nothing but broken dreams. She would see the decision as no decision at all; he'd known that immediately, and though he wanted to doubt it, he couldn't.

I will be honorable, Ian. Will you vow the same?

He clutched her shoulders and pulled her toward him. "Christ, Selena," he whispered, hearing the ragged tenor of his voice. He couldn't help it, couldn't pretend to be strong. Everything about this moment hurt.

We could run away together. The thought spun through his mind, made him dizzy with the need to say it.

She touched him, trailed her fingers across his cheek, down his throat, caressing, claiming. Finally she drew back, let her hand fall into her lap. "You were right to be afraid."

He stared at her, losing himself in the darkness of her eyes, needing her more in that moment than he'd ever needed anyone or anything. "What will I do without you?" he whispered.

She started to cry, silently at first, and then in great,

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heaving spasms. He folded his arms around her, drew her onto his lap and held her fiercely, burying his face in the wet, cold crook of her neck.

He thought of all the times he'd touched her, all the kisses he'd trailed along her throat, across her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. All the words she'd mangled and the laughs she'd given him. About how yawningly empty his world would be without her. Oh, Jesus ...

The tears came at last, burning his eyes, blurring his vision. They clung to each other for a lifetime, the only warmth in the cold, rainy night.

Too soon, she pulled away. Sniffling, she wiped her eyes and touched his face. "You told me many times that the world was cold and cruel and unjust." She tried to laugh, tried and failed. "I am beginning to believe you."

"I'll wait for you, forever if I have to. Someday ..." His voice trailed off. The tears in his eyes crested, slipped down his cheeks. "Someday ..."

She shook her head. "No, Ian. This would break my heart. I must go-we both know that. But .. . but I love you so. Do not nail your life to a cross for this love of ours. I could not stand it." She leaned toward him, cupped his face in her cold, shaking hands and stared into his red-rimmed eyes. "Honor what we have had by finding it again. Fall in love, marry, have children. This is what I want from you." Her voice broke, and it took a lifetime for her to go on. "Please ... be happy."

He squeezed his eyes shut for a long, long time, shaking his head. "No,"

"Please." She pressed a quick kiss to his lips. "Please, Ian."

His arms came around her hard, crushing her to his chest. His mouth slanted over hers, claimed her, possessed and plundered her, until he was dizzy and breathless and aching with the need to be inside her.

"Ah, Selena," he whispered against her ear. "I love you so d.a.m.ned much."

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"And I love you."

He clung to her, reveling in the rainwater-sweet smell of her hair, the soft feel of her lips against him. He tried to memorize everything about this moment, this tiny heartbeat of time; he would need it when she was gone. Already he tried to change it in his mind, so that when he looked back on it-when finally he could-he would remember the love, the pa.s.sion, the commitment. Not her eyes br.i.m.m.i.n.g with tears, or his own wrenching pain. He would remember the taste of the rain, not the taste of their tears. "I will never love another as I have loved you."

He wanted to say more, but it was too late. The dawn had not yet come, and already the time was past for them. Instead, he said the only word that was left. "Good-bye, Selena."

Good-bye.

Selena stood at the top of the stairs, her fingers curled tightly around the polished wooden railing. Sunlight pooled on the warm, honeyed floorboards of the entryway.

It was the last time she'd stand here, the last time she'd feel the familiar smoothness of the wood beneath her fingers, the last time she 'd hear the quiet creak of the third step... .

She forced the thoughts back, deep, deep inside her, to that darkened place where she couldn't see them anymore. She hurried downstairs and opened the parlor door.

They were everywhere, filling the room in silent, gray silhouettes. The only family she'd ever known.

She bit on her lower lip, making eye contact with no one.

No one spoke.

The silence felt thick and heavy; the ant.i.thesis of every moment she'd ever spent in this room, every memory she'd ever made with these people.

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"No sadness," she said sternly, walking toward Andrew and Lara, who sat huddled together on the settee. In front of them, she kneeled and looked up.

They both seemed heartbreakingly young and sad.

"We'll miss you," Andrew said with a shudder.

Selena looked at Andrew for a moment longer than she should have. For a second, her throat was painfully full. "The sunlight on your face will be my touch, Andrew. Remember that.

"I will miss you both." She drew them into a long, fierce hug, then slowly pulled back. Rising, she went to Edith, hugged her, then turned to the queen and fell into a deep curtsy.

The queen gave her a sad smile. "You're the only true subject I ever had."

"Good-bye, Your Highness."

Then she went to Johann.

"G.o.ddess," he whispered.

It surprised her how much that single word hurt. Hot tears stung her eyes, blurred her vision, but she didn't wipe them away. There was no point being strong for Johann; of all of them, he'd always seen the truth of her.

"You don't have to go," he said quietly.

She wished it were true, wished it with her heart and soul and mind. "You know that is a lie."

He tried to laugh. "What do you know of lying, G.o.ddess?"

"Just what you have taught me, Johann." The teasing words slipped out, lightening their moods for a heartbeat. "Thank you," she whispered, throwing her arms around him. "That is the memory I needed, Johann. Thank you."

His arms curled around her, drew her close. "Be well, Selena."

After a second-not nearly long enough-she turned away from him.

Maeve stood with her back to the bookshelves. "Se 289.

lena," she whispered, her lower lip trembling, her fingers spasming around1 the ribbon.

Selena hurled herself at Maeve, wrapped her arms around the thin, frail woman and hugged her tightly.

"Take care of him, Maeve," she whispered hoa.r.s.ely.

"I'll try," Maeve answered.

The words hung between them, and afterward, silence.

Selena knew it was time to turn away, time to move on, but suddenly she couldn't move.

"Selena." He said her name on a whisper, and just hearing it made her want to cry. Selena. The name he'd given her, a name steeped in dreams and myths and lore. G.o.ddess of the Moon. No matter what happened in her life, she would always have that. The gift of her name, the gift of his dreams.

She turned to Ian. Their gazes met across the room, and at the look, so intimate and familiar, her world tilted, right slid into wrong, honor into love, and left her with a desperate nothingness. Numb, aching, she moved toward him. She wanted to reach out for him, feel the comforting roughness of his skin against hers, but she didn't dare touch him now. Not now. All that was left them-all that honor allowed-was in their eyes.

She reached up, brushed the hair from his face, and gazed into his blue, blue eyes. "Oh, Ian." She breathed.

She raised her left hand and began to remove the ring he'd given her.

He grabbed her wrist. "Jesus, Selena," he said in a ragged voice. "Don't ..."