Flashing golden-orange rays of sunlight danced across the rippling waters of the loch. Just like that, it was over. Two days without any sign of Nickolas. Two days of horrible, terrible waiting, and it was all for nothing.

Cassandra remembered that last morning they'd spent together. After the day in the village, Nickolas had taken her back up to the cabin where they could be alone. She'd woken in his arms, a perfect, brief moment of heaven before it was time for him to leave.

"If I'm not back in two days, you have to forget all this, Cassandra. You have to go back home and pretend none of this ever happened. You can't wait for a dead man forever."

She could still hear his voice telling her that. He hadn't understood, though. How was she supposed to forget? How could she just move on? This had been the greatest adventure of her life. He had been her greatest adventure.

She couldn't believe how quickly time had passed, how suddenly everything had changed. Instead of slow, agonizing anticipation, the time had flown away all too quickly, and now, the sun was setting on all her hopes and dreams.

The weather had turned cold the day he left, reminding her that winter was fast approaching. How long had she been gone? It seemed like a lifetime since she'd left Fergus Manor to chase down Nickolas that day.

How could something that had happened over such a long period of time come to such an abrupt end? It left her feeling empty and coldly expectant. It was like coming to the edge of a cliff that you thought was a towering mountain with another side to climb.

Seamus had lit a fire outside the house as the sun began to dip lower in the sky, and a few of the villagers had gathered to fry fish and tell stories. Cassandra knew it was partially for her benefit. They were trying to distract her, but even Seamus's stores of his youthful pirate days were lost on her now.

Her eyes were glued on the slowly sinking sun, and her ears were tuned to the growing darkness beyond the fire's light, listening for any sound, any sign that Nickolas was coming home to her. There was only the whistle of the wind of the hum of chatter, however. Where could he be?

She'd caught several people giving her pitying looks. They all thought he wasn't coming back, but they were wrong. They had to be. He had to come. He'd promised.

Immediately, her mind went beyond the circle. Her imagination showed her images of him, trapped and bleeding, trying to get to her but not being able to. Wherever he was, he needed her.

She drew a deep, shaking breath and stood up abruptly. The quiet talk died, and she felt quizzical glances thrown her direction. She didn't look at them. She wasn't sure of her composure at the moment, and she had no desire to burst into tears in their company. There was only one place she truly felt safe doing that, and the thought of being in Nickolas's arms again nearly choked her.

"I need fresh air." She mumbled.

Without further explanation, she moved away from the fire. She'd forgotten the chill in the air, and as she walked, she hugged her arms about herself. The quiet lapping of the water on the shore seemed to whisper words of comfort, but she had no ears to hear it.

The turmoil in her soul was almost stifling. She stopped walking, inhaling in quick, short breaths to keep the panic from claiming her entirely. Her eyes searched the growing darkness of their own accord, watching, waiting for the familiar figure to materialize out of the shadows.

Her eyes glazed over: no one was there. Waves of smoke from the fires washed over the sand, but the beach was empty. He hadn't come. He was gone. Tears flooded her vision, further impairing her vision.

"Why?" She whispered, half angry, half desolate. He'd promised her.

Her emotions rose, constricting her throat and cutting off her breathing. What was she supposed to do now? Biting down on her lip, she closed her eyes against the tears. She had to try to think clearly.

Wrapping her arms around herself, she pressed her chin against her chest. He's dead. Nickolas is. . .dead. She didn't want to let anyone see her cry, but she couldn't stop the tears. A sob welled within her, pressing painfully for escape

"Come back to the fire, lass." Seamus's kind voice reached her ears. "Tis too cold a night to stand away from the fire."

She raised her head, wiping her face with the back of her hand. "In a minute." She tried to smile, but at the sight of the old man's concerned eyes, her lower lip began to tremble.

"He'll not be comin' back, lass." Seamus's voice echoed her own sadness, and she thought she saw the glint of liquid in his eyes. "Not this time."

That was it. All her built-up resolve not to cry melted, and she began to sob. Oh, how right Nickolas had been. He'd told her it was too desolate a thing to watch a man leave, so he wanted her to go inside and shut the door. A part of her wished she'd listened to him. All she could think about was the way he'd walked down the street, masking his injuries to all but her watchful eye.

It wasn't fair. For the first time in her life, she knew what it was like to feel hopeless. From the height of her elation, she'd crashed against the rocks of reality, and the pain was more unbearable than any physical injury.

Love. Such a ridiculous, wonderful, difficult, horrible word. A disease she had managed to escape for so long, but, perhaps because of the long immunity, it had hit her hard. Lavinia had warned her many times against rushing into things with both feet, and now, she wished desperately that she had listened.

"There, there, my girl." The old fisherman put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Let's go back to the fire. You don't have to face this alone."

With great effort, she drew her emotions back under control and nodded. He began to lead her away, but the feel of the grass on her toes sent shudders through her body. Leaving now would be like giving up on Nickolas entirely. She couldn't bring herself to do it.

"Wait." Cassandra stopped. "I left my shoes out there."

"I'll fetch them for you." Seamus smiled down at her.

"No, I'll get them. You go back to the fire. I'll be there in a moment. I promise." She tried to flash a smile at him.

He hesitated as if considering what to do. It was obvious he didn't want to leave her, but she squeezed his hand in reassurance and nodded as if to give him permission. With a heavy sigh, he released her and began to make his way back.

It was of little importance at the moment that her shoes were, in fact, in the little house she and Nickolas had shared, right where she had left them. Ridiculously enough, it was almost as though staying here on the lakefront would mean Nickolas was alive for a few moments more. Leaving now would somehow be betraying him, and she couldn't do that.

She turned toward the water and let the cool sea breeze play with her hair. A few days ago, the wind in her face would have felt freeing, but now, it just felt like another layer of chains jerking her back into reality. Tears ran down her cheeks, and the effort to hold herself back from an all out breakdown made her throat sore.

They were going to start looking for her soon. She didn't want to see anyone—or talk to anyone for that matter. Her fingers were beginning to grow numb with the cold, and the wind was taking a sharp turn. Seamus had told her earlier that they would get a thick frost tonight.

The effort to hold back her emotions was making her shake. Her treacherous mind kept reminding her of all the things she would never experience with him again. The little things she'd never see again. His eyes, his hair, the way he always seemed to know what she was thinking, and that grin. That stupid, amazing grin when he knew he was being a complete ass.

Drawing a deep, shuddering breath, she bit down on her lip until she tasted blood. What hurt the most, perhaps, was the knowledge that none of this would have happened to him if it hadn't been for her. If he hadn't had to save her from those men, Granger never would have known he was still alive, and he could have continued to unravel the demented man's plans.

The knowledge came with instant guilt. This was all her fault. How was she ever going to forgive herself? He would be alive right now if it weren't for her. She wanted to take it all back.

That was a lie. She wanted to live it all over and over and over again. She wanted to feel every emotion, see every expression, hear every word. She wanted him.

She was cold. Her fingers were numb, and whether she liked it or not, she was going to have to go back soon. She was going to have to face it all, and she was going to have to be brave about it, because that's what Nickolas would want her to do, right?

She smiled bitterly at the thought. If Nickolas had his way, she'd probably forget about him without shedding a single tear. Reality was much crueler than that, however. She was never, ever going to forget him. How could she? At this point, it would be like forgetting her own name. Impossible.

The wind bit through her clothes, chilling her to the bone. It brought icy drops of rain, a warning of the storm that was brewing. Soon, they would send someone after her again. It was time.

Biting her lip and closing her eyes against what she was doing, she turned away from the water. The air was suddenly suffocating, and she had to force herself to take a step. A broken sob escaped her lips, and her eyes opened.

She reminded herself that she had to be strong. She had to keep going. Her foolishness had already caused the death of one man, she couldn't let it affect any others. Seamus would look after her—she was fairly certain that Nickolas had given him some kind of instructions, so she had no need to worry about that. The problem was that she had no desire to go home without Nickolas.

A soft rustling told her that someone was coming to fetch her. She didn't want to be walked back to the fire like a child, though, so she raised her head and took a step toward the houses. Her eyes, however, caught a jilt of movement which caused her to jerk to a halt.

There was a figure on horseback approaching, but it wasn't coming from the direction of the village. Whoever it was was swaying in the saddle almost as though they were actually asleep. The horse seemed to be charting its own course at this point.

Cassandra opened her mouth to call for Seamus—newcomers would be his responsibility—but something stopped her. The rider groaned softly and toppled from the saddle. The horse stopped, lifting its head to survey its surroundings, but Cassandra wasn't paying attention to it.

Her mouth had gone dry, and her heart was beating erratically. Somehow, her feet propelled her forward of their own accord. At first, it was only a stumbling step, but then she was running. Running with all that was in her to close the distance between them.

She slid to a stop, ignoring the pain as she skinned her knees in her haste.

"Help!" Her voice was foreign and hoarse. "Someone help!"

She leaned over him, holding his face in her hands as tears of relief and fear and glorious ecstasy rolled unhindered down her cheeks. It was him. It was Nickolas.

Blood soaked through her shirt as she leaned over him. She held onto him, willing him to live, to continue breathing.

"Nickolas." She breathed, lifting his head and cushioning it against her. "Oh, Nicholas." She wept. "Help!" She screamed as more warm blood soaked through her clothes.

"Did you miss me?" His voice was broken, and he wheezed between his words, but he was alive, and he was talking.

"Yes, you ass, so don't you dare die on me! Don't you dare!" She touched her forehead to his, needing to feel him, to touch him.

Shouts and lights told her help was coming. None of it mattered. All she could hear was the heaviness of his breathing, and all she could see was his chest rising and falling with each perfect, wonderful breath.

"I—" He breathed. "L—love you, too."

And then Seamus was there, sweeping him into his arms as though Nickolas was still a boy. Ignoring the questions, Cassandra clung to Nickolas's hand. She didn't care where they were taken or what happened. She was never, ever going to let him out of her sight again. She didn't care what it cost her.

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I was originally planning to drag all this stuff out with another chapter or so, but looking at my notes and all that I still have left to write, I thought it was for the best that I wrapped this part of Cassandra and Nickolas's journey up in one chapter. Besides, I think you have suffered enough in the last few chapters.

What do you think will happen next? How badly is Nickolas hurt? Will he survive his injuries? The next couple of chapters will be explanations and a few revelations, and then we're about to wrap all this up. I'm excited and sad at the same time, because I've really enjoyed writing about Cassandra.

Anyway, I guess that's all for now! I hope to have the next chapter ready soon, so keep an eye out for it!