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f8cdf08
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"I'd take her to the top of the widow's tower at Ainsdale Castle, late at night, and we'd watch the moon rise. The widow's tower was very high but she wasn't afraid. Sometimes I'd steal a pie from the kitchens and we'd picnic up there. I brought up a blanket, too, so she wouldn't have to sit on the bare stone floor." Mrs. Crumb made an aborted movement, as if she'd meant to turn to face him and then changed her mind. He let the wineglass dangle by his side. "I told her a rabbit lived on the moon and she believed me. She believed everything I told her then." "What rabbit?" "There." He roused himself, straightening. He drew back, fitting her against his chest and setting his chin on her shoulder. She smelled of tea and housekeeperly things, and she was warm, so warm. He caught up her right hand in his and traced the moon with it. "D'you see? There are the long ears, there the tail, there the forepaws, there the back." "I see," she whispered. "I told her the rabbit had lavender fur and ate pink moon clover up there." His mouth twisted, as he remembered. "She'd watch me with big blue eyes, her mouth half-open, a bit of piecrust on her dress. She hung on every word." He could hear her breath, could feel the tremble of her limbs. Did she fear him? "D'you believe me?" he asked against her ear, his lips wet with wine. She was a housekeeper and housekeepers didn't matter in the grand schemes of kings and dukes and little girls who wished upon rabbit moons. But she was silent, damnable housekeeper. They breathed together for a moment, there in the night air, London twinkling before them, overhung by a pagan moon. At last she stirred and asked, "What happened to the girl?" He broke away from her, draining his glass of wine. "She grew up and knew me for a liar."
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moon
rabbit
val-napier
eve-dinwoody
childhood-memory
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Elizabeth Hoyt |
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3914c7e
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"She heard the door close as she examined the dog. "You're looking much better," she told the animal. "Good enough that Jean-Marie might be able to take you outside to wash you. Oh, don't get up." This last was said nervously as the dog climbed laboriously to his feet. "Really, you shouldn't." Eve watched wide-eyed as the animal staggered toward her. "Sit back down, 'please,'" she said, arms raised, but the animal either didn't know what an order was or ignored hers. He walked unsteadily right to her as Eve glanced wildly toward the closed door, hoping that Jean-Marie would make a sudden, early reappearance. And then the animal laid his big head on her knees. "Oh," she said, for she had no idea what else to do. The dog was 'looking' at her with huge brown eyes, his forehead wrinkled up as though he was worried. His enormous drooping jowls were spread like a messy black skirt upon her lap, and the animal's triangular ears were back. Actually it was rather adorable. Hesitantly Eve laid her palm very gently on the beast's head. Slowly the dog's tail swayed back and forth, and he gave a great sigh."
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eve-dinwoody
dog
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Elizabeth Hoyt |
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7642023
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"He looked back at Eve, holding out his hand. "Come on, then." She looked between him and his hand, pressing her lips together, but not moving. He frowned. "Eve." She inhaled and took his hand, awkwardly inching toward him without a sound. "Brave lass," Asa purred. He caught her other hand, ignoring her flinch, and pulled her into his arms. What a small thing she was! She might be tall, but Eve's body was as light as a bird's. He could feel the delicate bones of her shoulder, the slender span of her waist, and he thanked God that she'd not been crushed by the planks falling on her."
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eve-dinwoody
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Elizabeth Hoyt |
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dd5fc8f
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"The corners of her mouth drooped and he felt an odd panicked twinge somewhere in that empty space where a heart might dwell in other people. "The trouble," Eve said, "is that I've never been able to tell when you're lying to me and when you're not. It wouldn't matter, I suppose, but that you don't if you lie to me or not. And I do. I used to not. Or maybe I used to tell myself I didn't care. But Val," she said softly, looking at him with his own eyes, "now I do." She turned and, taking Makepeace's arm, very quietly left the room with her fiance. And it was a very good thing, Val thought, that he hadn't a heart. Because it might've broken then." --
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sibling-loss
val-napier
eve-dinwoody
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Elizabeth Hoyt |
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8dd335f
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She used to be so frightened when they were young. Like a pale little ghost, slipping into the shadows, hiding from their vicious elders, trying not to be noticed. He'd saved her once. Swept her away like a prince in a fairy tale, but that was long ago and far away and perhaps no longer mattered. How were such things counted among normal people? For she'd thawed. He could see that now. She was no longer that frozen, scared little girl afraid to be noticed. Afraid to live. He supposed he should thank Makepeace for that. For taking his Eve, his sister, and blowing warm life into her.
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eve-and-asa
grown-up
val-napier
eve-dinwoody
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Elizabeth Hoyt |
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8f81f5b
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Eve was a shy woman. A woman who had spent years hidden away from the world, traumatized by their shared past. True, she was also stubborn as a mule when she wanted to be, but he never should've put her in the position of facing off against Makepeace. He'd obviously proved too overwhelming for her. God only knew what the pleasure garden owner had done to Eve to make her agree to marry him.
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eve-dinwoody
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Elizabeth Hoyt |