“Do not walk away from me!” she strode across the foyer, her feet echoing off the marble and crashing throughout the open chamber. “Look at me!”
He paused on the first stair, his body turned rigid, his hackles rising. “What did you say?”
“I said, look at me!” She reached the lower landing so that she was standing under him. He was always taller than she was, but now he looked like a giant. Not that she was scared of him. Not that she was scared anymore about what he might say and do. Things could not get any worse, Clara reasoned.Or so I hope…
Slowly, Alaric turned about. As expected, his expression was one of fury, although it looked forced, meant to scare her away. “I would ask that you take care in how you speak to me.”
“And I would ask that you do not treat me as if I do not exist.”
“I –” He caught his tongue, tempering his rage. “I treat you exactly as I have promised. No more, no less. Do not act surprised.”
“Is that what you think?” she laughed coldly. “Is that truly how you see the way that you have behaved? That this…” She gestured vaguely. “That this is what was promised me?”
“Is it not?” he shot back. “You knew well what this marriage was when you came to me –when you came to me,” he emphasized. “You came begging, and I told you exactly what to expect. No more, no less. To pretend now that you were promised something different is beneath you, Clara.”
Her eyes brimmed with fury. “And if you had kept your promise, then maybe I would agree with you. If you had done as you said you would, I would not care as I do! But you and I both know that nothing about this marriage, your actions, is as you claim. Do not pretend otherwise.”
“I…” He hesitated, and behind his eyes, Clara saw that same battle raging that had existed in him since the day they wed. “I do not know what you mean.”
“Ha!” she laughed. “Is that your excuse? Ignorance.”
“Careful…”
“I am through being careful,” she snarled at him. “I am through being treated as if… as if… as if I do not matter! If you wish to ignore me, fine, do it! Slink back away to your tower and hide as you so love to do. If you wish to treat me like your wife, I am here, Alaric!” Her expression turned pleading. “But what I cannot stomach, what I am sick to death of, is being used! One minute, you act as if you care for me. The next, you spurn me. It is –”
“As I said,” he cut over her, then bellowed, “As you know!” He drew a ragged breath. “I explained well enough what was expected from us today. I explained the reason as clearly as I could. Am I to blame that you…” He hesitated, guilt passing behind his eyes so that he reared back slightly. “Am I to blame that you read too much into what I warned you was to be a performance. Nothing more.”
“And the Whitcombe Ball?” she shot back at him, looking up, refusing to break her stare. “Was that also a performance? Bravo, if it was.”
He grimaced, looking away, his voice dropping. “It was not what you think. You have allowed your imagination to run away with you. I cannot be blamed for that.”
“You do not mean that.”
“I do.”
I can see the fight within him. He is so determined to push me away, but I know he does not mean it. The guilt. The shame. It is as clear on his face as I have ever seen.
“You don’t…” She softened her tone and stepped in closer. Then, she took the step up, which had him backing away. “I know you think you need to push me away, Alaric. I know you have convinced yourself that you are…” She laughed and shook her head. “I do not even know. Protecting me? Protecting yourself? But this is not the real you.”
“You do not know me as you think.” The fight was fading from him. He could not look at her, body shrinking back from shame. “This is who I am. Everything else is a lie.”
“No.” She reached out and rested a hand on his arm. He winced, but he did not pull it away. “I have seen the real you. I saw him at the Whitcombe Ball. When we danced. When we laughed. When you looked at me as if nothing else mattered…”
“A performance…” his voice dropped so low she barely heard it.
“And just now? With Lady Brickstone?” she pressed, her grip on his arm strengthening. “You work so hard at pretending you do not care, but the moment you let your guard drop, you reveal who you truly are.”
“I am not… that is not…”
“You are kind,” she spoke over him softly. “More gentle than you realize. You care for me, I know you do. But you are so desperate to pretend otherwise, and I cannot work out why? Why are you so determined to be alone?”
He did not answer right away. He stood with one foot on the same step as Clara’s, the other behind, so that he was leaning back. Her hand on his arm. His head bowed, eyes staring at an empty space that seemed miles away. His expression was tight. His jaw was clenched. And his breathing was heavy…he is fighting himself. More than I have ever seen.
“Everything I do, I do it for you,” he said finally, his voice distant, as if he was speaking to himself. “When I push you away, when I ignore you…” His breathing shuddered. “It is for you.”
“I never asked for it.”
“You will thank me,” he said. “You might not know it now, but one day –”
