Aliya frowned in confusion. "Why would he feel that way?"

Her mother-in-law tore her eyes from her and studied a budding flower. "You are aware of what your father did that gained him the name of the Gambler, yes?"

"Yes. He killed five men."

"Six."

Aliya blinked. "That cannot be right."

"Your father escaped Wheeler's after killing a lord while gambling. They had what we would call a little squabble over your father's supposed cheating habits."

Her brows fused. "I have not heard of this."

"Of course, you have not. You must only know what your aunt told you—what she knew at that time."

"And where does Oliver fit into this? He was merely a child—"

"Oliver was seventeen, training under his Uncle Carl at Sinclair in Coulway. He was with his uncle when your father barged in alone after having barely escaped Wheeler's, dying from a fatal wound in his groin. He had been shot during the commotion at Wheeler's, one he started by shooting his opponent straight in the head."

"In the head?"

"Right between the eyes."

Aliya blinked. "Did he threaten Ollie and Uncle Carl?"

"He had a gun, but he had no strength left. Carl was familiar with Newton Guideville and his reputation. He was reluctant to save your father."

Aliya felt a chill run up her spine. "But Ollie was not."

Natalia scoffed. "Oliver often claims he once raised a man from the dead. Your father was knocking on the devil's door when Oliver begged his uncle to proceed with the operation. I do not know the full story of that night or how Oliver convinced his uncle for he never told us. All we know is that they did manage to save the man." Turning to face Aliya again, her face not betraying any emotion, Natalia added, "And you know the rest."

"He went back to Wheelers."

"The very next night, yes. With fresh wounds, your father went back to Wheelers and started shooting. He killed four men in the club, two of whom were Royals—members of the Circus. Your father disappeared thereafter."

"Four?"

Natalia did not answer immediately. "He killed Carl when he tried to stop him from leaving Sinclair."

Aliya stumbled back, her hand flying to her mouth to muffle her gasp. Her eyes filled with tears.

"Fortunately for Oliver, he was in another chamber studying a corpse when he heard the gunshot. Carl was shot in the head and he was dead before he even fell on the ground."

Aliya reached for the nearest table for support, her breaths coming out short. Tears spilled from her eyes and she whimpered. She was feeling many things at once. Guilt, fear, disbelief, and fury.

"What your father did was not your fault and it will never be," Natalia said. "And it is not my son's either."

Suddenly she realized everything, finally aware of the pain and guilt Oliver must be carrying for years.

"You do remember him before the night of the Gambler. He was a happy child and he tries to be the same even until now for he is aware that we do not consider his guilt valid. But it is real to him. After that night, we knew he was no longer the innocent Oliver we knew. He buried himself in his studies. And when he was done, after she acquired what he needed, he started to pour his hours in the hospitals. We started to think he was all right. He traveled and his letters detailed his adventures and learnings. We believed then that he had come to terms with his uncle's death."

"But he never did," Aliya shakily said. "He never did because he also feels responsible for the other lives lost that night."

"And you, your sister, and your mother."

Aliya whimpered and choked on her tears. She clutched her chest, the pain nearly unbearable. Someone was suffering for her back then and he should not have. He should not be. And yet he was because he was Ollie.

"When he finally returned five years ago, the drinking started. He had very little regard for his reputation even now. The drinking fueled him to be strong and confident. Perhaps he thought he could numb the guilt, but we will never know. Oliver never wants to discuss the past."

Through a blur of tears, she searched Natalia's face. "He never told me."

"Of course, he would not. He fears you will leave him, Aliya."

Her face crumpled as if her mother-in-law said something abhorrent. "I would never blame it on him."

Natalia sighed. "I hope you can tell him that."

"I will."

"But tread carefully, Aliya. My son is more vulnerable than you think."

"He believed that taking me out of Belcourt was his redemption."

"I also thought so. Which is why I supported his plans. And for a while, he ceased drinking. I was hopeful." Silence lingered between them. "But his demons seem to be stronger than I thought. I was told by the servant that they had to help you carry him back to your bedchamber the other day."

Aliya wiped her face with shaking hands. "Yes. I found him with an empty bottle of brandy in the library."

Natalia sighed. "Perhaps having you in his life is not the solution he was looking for after all. You remind him of that night."

Aliya's jaw tightened and she closed her eyes. She had so carelessly talked about their past. She told him about how she escaped Thornridge and oh, God, how he must have suffered through it!

"I will solve this matter, Natalia," she promised, wiping her tears.

"My son regards you dearly, Aliya," Natalia said. "Do not hurt him."

Aliya scoffed. "You are not the first to tell me so."

And as though he knew he was being talked about, Oliver's loud voice called from outside the greenhouse. "Wife!"

Natalia frowned. "Why does he do that?"

Aliya laughed through her tears as another "Wife!" rang in the air. Shaking her head, she answered her mother-in-law, saying, "He believes I find it funny."

"And do you?"

Aliya sniffled and whimpered at the pain she felt for Oliver. She hastily wiped her face dry before she turned to find Oliver walking toward the greenhouse. "Yes," she replied, biting her lips to stop them from quivering. She watched her husband enter the greenhouse, towering over the racks of plants. His large frame was just a weak armor conserving the most delicate soul she had ever known.

*****

"What were you talking about with Mother?" Oliver asked as they walked hand in hand back to the manor. "She made you cry."

Aliya shook her head. It was not the perfect time to talk to him about the past. She had to take this slow, or she would lose him. "Women talk a lot about many things that make them cry."

"Then I challenge you to make Ellise cry. Father would kneel before you if you can manage to do that."

Aliya weakly smiled. "I am certain she has cried once or twice in the past, although I cannot imagine it."

"That thing they call my sister never cries, even when she came out of my mother's womb."

"Surely you are jesting." She looked at him, wondering what was running in his mind. How could he so easily hide the pain? Had the years taught him well?

"My father claims it to be true."

"Your father is Simon St. Vincent. I can hardly believe anything he says."

Oliver chuckled. "Ah, you must be getting used to being a St. Vincent."

"Surprisingly, I am," she replied, squeezing his hand. "But mayhap I am also a little odd."

"You have always been odd. You like monkeys. And you like me."

Aliya chuckled, all the while fighting the tears. How could he make her laugh so easily when he carried so much weight? "And your jokes. I do not know anyone else who laughs at them."

"And you enjoyed my stalking."

She playfully turned to him. "The sort of courtship I enjoy, apparently."

With a curious smile, he bent down and stole a kiss. "Because you are naughty, Mrs. St. Vincent."

"Mrs. Oliver St. Vincent," she corrected. "Mrs. St. Vincent is your mother."

He nodded, frowning at her. "Ali, you are fighting not to cry." He carefully cupped her face. "What happened? Tell me, what did my mother say to you?"

She shook her head and sniffed. "I will tell you soon," she promised, holding his hand and closing her eyes, fighting the urge to drag him to a quiet room and talk to him. Now was not the time. He bent down and kissed her tears and wiped the rest with his thumb. "And then perhaps you can scold her," she added in jest.

He laughed and led her back into the manor.

They passed by the hall that led to the balcony. Aliya stopped and gazed. "Mason seems to enjoy Ellise's company."

"Then he must be like you," Oliver said, turning so they could join Ellise and Mason outside.

"Mason, should you not be in the schoolroom?" Aliya asked, glad to find a distraction.

"I told Dorothy that a child has very little patience inside an enclosed space," Ellise answered. "He needs to explore to learn." The woman paused on Aliya's face when she noted her swollen eyes but said nothing.

"Ah, the balcony offers more learning then?" Oliver said as he settled beside Mason. "And what have you learned thus far, Mason?"

"Sharks also eat other fishes," Mason said.

Oliver glared at his sister.

"Because they need to eat," the child added. "To survive, yes, Ellise?"

Ellise nodded, her eyes curiously looking at Aliya before turning away.

"Then the sharks are not bad."

"Yes," Ellise replied, her attention back on the sea.

"But they eat people."

"Yes."

"Then they turn bad?"

"They do not know they cannot eat people," Ellise patiently said, her tone completely barren. "It is the people who think they should not be eaten."

Mason blinked. Then he turned to Oliver. "Why?"

Oliver blinked, his eyes rapidly looking for answers.

"Because people think too highly of themselves," Ellise replied. Her brown hair was down today and Aliya could not help but look on with wonder—both at her beauty and her wisdom.

Oliver looked out into the sea. "Then what should the people do?" he asked his sister.

"Respect the nature of the sharks."

"Make friends with the sharks!" Mason replied with a laugh.

"No, of course not," said Ellise.

"If we are friends, they will not eat me."

"They will."

"But—"

"Then how?" Oliver asked, turning his head to look at his sister.

Ellise blinked. "You learn to survive as well."

"Now, enough about the sharks," said Aliya, reaching for Mason's hand. "Let us go for a walk, Mason."

The child excitedly took off his shoes and they both ran straight unto the sand. "Sharks cannot go near the shore," said Aliya, leading Mason to the waters. "So long as you do not go far, you will be safe."

"But Ellise said that sharks can be cunning."

"They are," Aliya said with a smile. "But they cannot swim in shallow waters."

"Then I can go into the water?"

"Of course."

She led him deeper into the water and he stopped just where the water reached his knees. "I think I am fine here, Aunt Aliya."

Aliya walked further away so the water reached her knees as well. "When you are as tall as I am, you can reach this far."

Mason grinned. "When I am as tall as you, will Mama come for me?"

Her eyes filled with tears and she was glad that the setting sun behind her was shadowing her face from Mason. "Yes."

"By then, I know how to swim and ride the horse!"

"Yes."

She could see Oliver walking toward them. He ran when Mason turned and grabbed the boy over his shoulder, eliciting a happy cry from the child. "Now, you can go further into the water," said Aliya as Oliver took Mason toward her.

"What about Ellise?" Mason asked, looking over at the balcony where Ellise was sitting.

"Ellise hates getting wet," Oliver said, walking further away.

"Ollie, do not take him too far," Aliya said, voice etched with worry.

"I am the god of the ocean, darling," he said, "fret not." He turned to show Mason the setting sun.

While Oliver was preoccupied and she was finally left alone, Aliya cried some more, glad for the sound of the splashing sound of the waves that muffled her silent sobs, thankful for the water that masked her tears.

She watched two beings—a man and a boy. Their years were not much of a difference because both were utterly innocent and vulnerable. She wanted to wrap them with her embrace and protect them from the pain that they were hiding.

Mason would often cry in his sleep for his mother. Oliver would drink himself to sleep to hide from the guilt.

She ached and wondered if she would be enough to heal them.

*****

Much later, as Dorothy ushered Mason away to dry himself, Aliya and Oliver stayed behind to enjoy the waves.

"My skirts are quite heavy," she complained as Oliver pulled her toward him. "Should I take them off?" she asked, her hand coming up to his nape.

He growled in her neck. "Later," he said. "When everyone else is asleep."

She let him lead her back to the house, laughing as they ran back to their bedchamber dripping wet.

By supper, Natalia was not pleased that they trailed puddles of water around the house, but she stopped her initial complaints when Mason turned his fearful blue eyes at her. Natalia blinked and cleared her throat. "I am merely saying that you ought to dry yourself first before coming into the manor."

But Mason's lips quivered, his eyes starting to pool with tears. "Ah, Mason," said Simon, coming to his feet to lift the boy in his arms. "Natalia is jesting. Jesting! Of course, you can play in the water." He looked at his wife and added, "After you dry yourself. I suggest that you bring more towels next time. Is that not a famous idea?"

The boy nodded, wiping his eyes.

Natalia cleared her throat again and stared at Mason. "You can ask Dorothy to get more towels next time you dip into the waters."

Oliver chuckled beside Aliya who was thinking that Herst may be good for Mason, after all. And Mason may be good for Natalia and Simon as well.

And perhaps even Ellise.

On the other hand, she was not certain what would be good for Oliver.

*****

Oliver later invited his wife for a walk.

In two days, they would be leaving Herst.

He would hate to do so, but he and his father were needed in Coulway. And Aliya needed to return to Belcourt.

"Ellise is not keen on leaving," his wife said.

"Ellise enjoys Herst as much as anyone."

"She can always do the things she enjoys in Coulway. I am certain we have woods she can go to and hunt."

"Perhaps you can convince her to do just that."

"I can try."

"Is Delaney's birthday coming soon?"

His wife fell silent for a while. "In a month, yes."

"And will Belcourt make its decision soon?"

"They will have to."

The wind was not cold, but he could feel the chill gliding up through his spine as he asked, "And if they do not grant your application?"

"I do not know," she said, voice cracking. "I honestly do not know."

His jaw tightened.

He had never thought of Delaney. Never had she crossed his mind when he spent those years searching for Aliya and a way to get her out of Belcourt.

"We will get her out," he said, wondering if Delaney was the reason for Aliya's tears earlier.

She was going through something and she was not telling him. He wanted to ask, demand what it was that made her so upset, but he could not bring himself to do so. Did he fear that her answer would merely cause him more guilt?

They had reached the giant rock that marked the end of the St. Vincent property. She let go of his hand and touched the stone. "Have you ever tried climbing this?" she asked, looking up.

"Many times," he replied with a faint smile, just watching her beautiful moonlit face.

"And?"

"If you walk around, you will see the other side. There is no point climbing," he replied, leaning against the rock. The wind blew his hair across his face and he gathered them around to tie it with the band he always carried around his wrist. Aliya watched him do it and when he was done, she walked around the rock. "But if you reach the top, you will see further away."

"Yes, but there is nothing there but a vast empty land."

"Who owns it?"

"The Fergussons, I believe. Old family."

"Do they have a house nearby?" her voice from the other side asked.

"No, I believe not."

She poked her head from behind the rock and grinned at him. "Then there will be no witnesses?"

He jumped from the rock and stalked toward her. She laughed as Oliver pulled his shirt over his head. Her back pressed into the rough surface of the rock when he stepped closer, undoing his breeches.

Aliya chuckled, gathering her skirts higher. "I did not wear my drawers," she said, "because someone promised to debauch me tonight."

He growled into her ear as he lifted her off the sand and up against the rock. Her legs wrapped around him, her head turning to search for his mouth.

After a while of breathless teasing, a deep roar of desire rumbled out of his chest.

"Ali," he hissed into her mouth, "you have surpassed my fantasies."

A satisfied sigh escaped her as he slowly inched inside her. "Then perhaps I can also break through your nightmares," she whispered in his ear, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

As he made love to her, Oliver wondered if she could and if she did, would she find him still there? Would she ever reach him in time?