Eleanor slowly turned back to Conaan, whose expression was largely unreadable, his chest slightly heaving.

"Is it true?"

He let out a small, shaky breath. "My father was always of ill health."

"But is it true that he didn't recover because of me?" A tear escaped her eyes, and he clasped his hand behind him so he wouldn't run to wipe those tears away.

"It is not true. He died of natural causes. You had nothing to do with it."

She stepped forward to him, her lips slowly parting. His eyes followed her movements, then held her gaze in place.

"How can you even take me back? How can you...