And how could she marry him, knowing this was his true nature? That he would never view her as an equal?
“When we write our next article,” he continued, “we can negotiate better how to proceed with—”
“Another article?! Why would I trust you enough to attempt this a second time?”
“Chris . . .”
“No! Do notChrisme, as if I am a child you need to reprimand. You knew how I would feel about this, and yet you acted anyway. You have shattered the trust between us, Alis!”
He blanched and then, just as quickly, scowled. “I think that might be a wee bit dramatic, lass. Ye must be more pragmatic about this. In order to establish a household, we need the money and recognitionnow, not in five years. Ye be a woman, Chris. A brilliant one, aye, but a woman nonetheless. A female attempting to publish in an academic world. It simply isn’t done. It should be enough to know that a publisher thought your ideas fine enough to pass as my own—the man you willtakeas your own!”
“So that is your true opinion, then? That I should simply be grateful that my work was esteemed so fine, amanmight have done it? Those are the lofty heights to which I should aspire?”
“Aye! That is the reality of the world in which we live. Ye are usually so level-headed. I thought ye would understand the practical nature of this.”
“Practical nature?! I have a dowry, Alis. You cannot convince me this isonlyabout money.”
Scowling, Alis turned to look out the window. “Let us discuss this once we have both had some time to think more rationally.”
Chrissi stared at his profile, her stomach a tangle of rope—twisted and pulling.
What was she to do? How could she marry him—despite the love still burning in her chest—when he assumed she would be happy to work in his shadow? When he cared more about finances than honesty?
The very thought was a beast’s claws sinking into her breast.
Because there was only one conclusion to be reached here—
Alistair didn’t know her. Not truly. He certainly didn’t understand her—not the yearnings that drove her heart, the desires that gave her life meaning and breath.
Nor, if his current attitude were to be believed, did hewishto understand her.
Oh dear.
She bit her trembling lip.
No!
Her heart angrily rejected the conclusion her brain had already determined.
And yet . . .
She couldn’t.
She simply couldnotmarry Alis. Not like this.
Time.
Perhaps they both simply needed . . . time.
ALISTAIR STARED AT Chris propped against the bed pillows—pale, disheveled, hair frayed in its braid and slowly unraveling...
She had never appeared more lovely.
“Regretting your actions does not remove the consequences of them,” she said, voice quiet.
“Aye, I agree. But can we not try? Can ye find forgiveness in your heart for me?”
He would never forget the gut-punched horror of realizing that Chris had simply...left. That after their argument in the carriage, she had decided to leave Fiesole without another word. With her father’s assistance, she had packed her trunk and taken the next train out of Florence.
