Caleb was next to her, his hand on her shoulder. “Jane. I’m sorry.”

“I know. So am I. I should never have come here to the Run. I should never have told her where I was going. So many mistakes…”

“Not your mistakes.” He took her face in his two hands and gazed down into her eyes. “Mine. Always mine. Remember that. Since the beginning. Always mine.”

“You’re doing it again. Even when no one blames you, you blame yourself.” She shook her head vehemently. “You can’t do it this time. I won’t let you. Do you know how much that hurts me?” She broke away from him and strode off from the fire toward where the Range Rover was parked.

She opened the driver’s door and slipped into the seat. She drew a deep breath as her hands clenched on the steering wheel. Just hold on. The entire day had been a disaster in one way or another. Yet she hadn’t dreamed it could get worse.

Kilgoray. Who would have guessed that she would have to face that today? Along with all the pain that—

The passenger door opened, and Rodland jumped into the car. “Don’t yell at me. Caleb didn’t have anything to do with sending me this time. He told me to stay away from you and let you have your space. I’m just feeling guilty as hell for not taking better care of you. I thought I was handling that Kilgoray business pretty well. And you told me Bohdan didn’t have anything to do with—”

“Be quiet, Rodland,” she said. “I can’t stand having another man taking the blame for anything I’ve done. Caleb is bad enough. And I told you the truth, Bohdan didn’t have anything to do with me going to Kilgoray.” She looked away. “Until he did.”

He was silent a moment. “That doesn’t compute. I’ll back off, but you have to talk to Caleb. This all sounds weird as hell from the outside.”

“I know that it does. I’ll take care of it.” She drew a deep, shaky breath. “Just not right now. I’ve got to plan how I’m going to do it. And I don’t want to sit here and make excuses to you. Go away, Rodland.”

“I’m going.” He opened his door. “Can I get you something to eat? You haven’t had supper.”

She shook her head. “Maybe I’ll grab something later.”

“Want to hear the end of MacClaren’s story?” His tone was coaxing. “It’s much more cheerful than all this Bohdan crap.”

“Not in the mood,” she said. “Though I’m all for a happy ending if I can work one out. Thanks, Rodland.”