The word seemed to pierce something deep in her heart, and Eloise's face paled to a sickly white.
"Rodrigo…" She reached out, her trembling fingers grasping for his sleeve, but Rodrigo ripped his arm away before she could make contact.
"Don't you touch me," he growled, the sound laced with a lethal, agonizing pain.
The room fell dead silent.
Rodrigo pulled his gaze away from her, his eyes locking onto the dancing flames in the hearth. In a sudden, violent flash, the faceless woman from his recurring dreams materialized before him. But this time, the fog cleared. The silhouette shifted, becoming clearer and sharper until the identity was dropped directly into his mind.
Standing in front of him in the vision... those shoes. He had seen them countless times when he was a child. She had always worn them—those distinct, flower-laced shoes.
Now he remembered. The woman who had stood over him all those years ago... was Charlotte.
