Star's Crossing

68: I Did, Once

Camden thought he was dreaming when he saw Mare Atwood on the drive. He bellowed for Geoffrey and made for the foyer, entering as the servant closed the door with Mare still outside.

"What are you doing?" Camden asked, bewildered.

"Miss Atwood was seeking your cousin Theodore. She has gone—"

Camden threw open the door, racing into the snow without a coat. "Mare!"

She startled, turning around. She looked older, but it suited her. Her cheekbones were more defined, her eyes brighter. She stood tall cheeks and nose pink in the cold. "Mr. Doores."

"Shall I fall on my knees for you, as I once did?" Camden's heart pounded. "I will, Mare."

She furrowed her brow, looking him over as though attempting to understand what he meant by it. Friend, or foe.

"I'm sorry." Camden decided to make it clear, as he hadn't. His breath left his lips in frosty clouds, and he held out his hands, shaking his head. "Mare. Forgive me. Or don't; God knows I don't deserve it. I was a bastard."

Mare blinked, a surprised smile twisting one corner of her mouth. "You were."

"Unforgivably. Irrevocably." Camden really could have dropped to his knees, overwhelmed with relief as he was. It wasn't forgiveness; but it was not hatred. This he could work with. "I threatened you. I was..."

"A bastard," Mare supplemented, that smile wider. "As we've established."

"I'm sorry."

"We've establish that as well." Mare arched a brow. Perhaps she was not so changed after all. "It's been a long time."

"It has."

"You must be cold."

"I am." He laughed, surprised at the instinct. "Come in for tea. It's Christmas."

Mare's smile fell. She looked over her shoulder, at the path to the wood. "He's gone already, hasn't he?"

"Teddy? Yes." Camden frowned; then, at once, understood. "Mare."

She looked back to him, eyes bright, anguish in her face. She said nothing, but the suspicion in her gaze told him he was right. That there was no other reason Mare Atwood would be at his door in the snow on Christmas day.

"You love him still," Camden murmured, and for no reason he could name, his heart became warm. "You love Teddy, don't you?"

Mare, eyes wide, nodded.

Camden laughed. He wondered that there was no resentment or bitterness or jealousy in him; he wondered at the joy that flooded his veins. Perhaps, beneath the perfect romance of it, there was the relief he had not destroyed what otherwise might have been a tale of true, star-crossed love. Perhaps he was simply moved that such love existed at all.

He crossed the snow and threw his arms around Mare's shoulders. "Thank God," he whispered into her hair.

After a moment she wrapped her arms around him and held him fast. "You're still a bastard," she whispered. "But I heard what you did for Lilith."

Camden tightened his embrace. The weight of the world on his shoulders lessened, just a little.

"We could stop him, probably."

Mare pulled free of Camden, looking past him with widened eyes. "Geoffrey." She grinned as he followed in Camden's footsteps and pulled her into his arms. "I'm glad to see you."

"Likewise," said Mare.

"We'll have to hurry if we mean to stop him in time."

"He'll be at the station by now," Camden said. "Though he had an errand to run—"

"His father's estate?" Suggested Geoffrey, pulling back from Mare. "But he said something about the post—"

"Camden, go to his father's house," said Mare, lifting her gloved palms. "Geoffrey, will you go to the post office? And I'll go to the stage station."

"Mare," said Camden as she turned away. "You'll freeze out there, you should stay—" He halted at the expression on her face and sighed. "Fine, then. At least take a horse."

Mare straightened. "I haven't ridden in ages."

"You used to ride the Watt's old stallion all day. Don't you remember?" Why did Camden remember, so clearly? He gestured to the servant who lingered on the steps, the door to the foyer open. "Can you do it?"

Mare smiled, a challenge in the set of her chin. She nodded.

"How romantic," Geoffrey said, smiling. "The hero riding in on horseback."

Mare looked up as the servant rushed to saddle the horse. "I don't know if ours is that kind of story."

"It is if you want it to be," said Camden. He was pleased when this won a smile from Mare. "You never wrote him."

The servant crossed the drive, and Geoffrey helped Mare into the saddle. She gazed down at them, and for a moment, she looked entirely the hero: eyes blazing, hair streaming, snow in her lashes, chin lifted like a queen.

"I did, once," Mare said. "A long time ago."

Camden and Geoffrey stepped back, and Mare spurred her horse. Off into the wood she went, snow arcing from the steed's hooves.

"We'd have never been enough," Camden said softly. "I see that now."

"Not as we were, no." Geoffrey clapped him on the back. "But as we could be?"

"People can't change that much." Camden watched Mare vanish into the trees.

"I don't know," said Geoffrey. "It makes you question what's possible, doesn't it?"

Camden, in spite of everything, smiled. "That it does." He looked to his cousin. "Now let's go find Theodore Bridge."