But Kathleen . . . She would never know what she had meant to him. That pierced his failing awareness. Dear God, why had he waited, assuming he had time at his disposal? If he could have had five minutes to tell her . . . bloody hell, one minute . . . but it was too late. Kathleen would go on without him. Some other man would marry her . . . grow old with her . . . and Devon would be nothing but a faded memory. If she remembered him at all. He struggled and flailed, a silent howl trapped inside. Kathleen was his fate, his. He would defy all the hells that ever were to stay with her. But it was
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