Her heart squeezed down so hard it felt like something had gripped it in a vise. The pain was excruciating, so much so that she brought both hands to her chest and pressed hard, going down on one knee there on the edge of the trees. Bile rose in her stomach and churned, threatening to explode along with her protest. Her throat felt raw, her eyes burned.

What else could he do? What would she do? She wanted to scream a denial, to race to his side and rake at him with the claws of a cat for shredding her heart all over again. She’d let herself fall in love with him again. No, that wasn’t true. She’d always loved him. She’d wanted him to come to her for forgiveness. She wanted him on his knees pleading with her and in the end she’d forgive him and they would live happily ever after.

He was supposed to love her so much he would never think of touching another woman. When he’d told her he wouldn’t try to seduce Imelda Cortez, she’d been secretly thrilled. She’d wanted that reaction. She’d needed him to chase her, to court her, to prove to her that she was his love—his only love. The cat had complicated things. Now she didn’t know if it was the cat he wanted, or her.

“Isabeau?” Conner was beside her, his arm sliding around her waist, shadows in his eyes. His gaze moved over her inch by inch, trying to find the reason for the pain. “What is it? Let me see.” His hands went to her shirt as if he might lift it up to examine her chest for signs of injury.

She pushed his hands down and circled his neck with her arms, locking her fingers behind his neck. She loved this man with everything in her. Childish behavior had to be over, now, before it was too late and she lost him forever. She’d been living in a dream world, not reality. Yes, he’d seduced her for all the wrong reasons, but they had been right. They were right. If he felt for her half of what she felt for him, he couldn’t have stopped himself any more than she could now.

“What is it, Sestrilla?” he whispered against her ear, holding her close to him just like she knew he would.

She could feel the care in his touch. The strength, yet gentleness. That soft word he called her, foreign, yet so loving the way it rolled off his tongue. “Tell me what that means.” She laid her head against his heart, listening to that steady, reassuring beat. “I need to know what that means.”

“Isabeau.” She heard the sound of sorrow. The sound of a heart breaking.