“What is it?” she huffed. “You do not get to ask that, not after the way you behaved.”
“I behaved perfectly well, Adelaide. What are you?—”
“No,” she interrupted, stepping closer. “You behaved warmly, and then you behaved like a stranger. I praised you, and you punished me for it.”
“This is absurd.”
“Is it?” Her voice rose. “You were kind to that child. You were human. And the moment I noticed,trulynoticed, you withdrew, as though I had touched something I was not meant to see.”
Cassian’s jaw tightened. “You are reading far too much into a trivial incident. All I wanted today was to have a pleasant time.”
“Then why won’t you tell me more about yourself?” she pressed. “Why is it that every question I ask is met with evasion? You ask about my past, my family, my feelings, yet you offer nothing in return.”
“I offer you stability,” he snapped. “Courtesy and protection, too. That is what you said a good husband offers. What more do you require?”
“I require honesty,” Adelaide shot back. “I require a husband, not a shell.”
“That is unfair,” he said sharply. “You knew exactly the sort of man I was when you married me.”
“No,” she said, her voice breaking. “I knew what you allowed me to see. And I was foolish enough to believe there might be more.”
Cassian looked away, pacing once as though seeking an exit that was not there. “Some things are private.”
“Not in marriage,” Adelaide countered. “Not when your silence leaves me guessing, filling the space with hopes you refuse to confirm or deny.”
His head snapped up, and she realized what she had said.
“Hopes?”
“Yes,” she uttered. “Because what else am I supposed to do when you show me kindness and then pretend it meant nothing?”
The words struck harder than she had intended. He went very still.
“You cannot want explanations for every decent act,” he said coldly. “You cannot mistake obligation for intimacy and then accuse me of deception when I do not indulge it.”
“So you would rather I feel nothing at all than risk my misunderstanding you?”
“I would rather you not demand what I cannot give. This is exactly why I prefer to keep certain matters to myself.”
Adelaide held his gaze, though her hands trembled. “Then stop pretending you are protecting me,” she bit out. “You are protecting yourself, and if you are going to be so selfish, then at least say that part out loud.”
For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, he inhaled sharply.
“If you absolutely must know, then I will tell you.”
CHAPTER 25
The morning sun had been gentle that day.
Fifteen-year-old Cassian had wandered down the gravel path, with his hands clasped behind his back, the crisp air brushing against his cheeks.
His father was tending to the small orchard at the far end. His sleeves rolled up and face serious, he knelt to inspect the young saplings. The sun caught the lines of his face, the broadness of his shoulders.
Cassian stopped a few paces away, watching him with both admiration and that silent awe he had felt all his life.
“Cassian,” his father called, without looking up. “Come here.”
His voice was firm, low, and carried easily across the rows of apple and pear trees.
