“Not physically. He never hit me. But he controlled me. Owned me.” She met his eyes. “In a different way than my father. Daddy was always ashamed of my gift. He hated it and hated me because I had it and he didn’t. Clive was the opposite. He loved my gift. Loved that it brought attention to him, that his name was associated with mine. I was like a pet. A prize. And he never saw me as a woman or as someone of worth.”
“Marnie…”
“Then I found out he’d forged papers making himself executor of everything I did. He literally owned me at that point. My name, my work—all of it. I knew I had to get out before there was nothing left of me at all.”
“Wait.” Beckett leaned forward. “This man lied and stole from you, and you just walked away without a fight?”
She sighed. “I don’t have a lot of fight left in me, Beckett. It was easier to walk away and start over. He can have what he wants. I’ve got my freedom again, and that’s all that’s ever been important to me.”
“You’re wrong if you think a man like that is just going to let you walk away. You’re worth millions. And if he owns your work, he’s going to keep coming after you.”
“I was never important enough to Clive for him to think I’d be worth chasing.” She shook her head. “I promise he probably hasn’t given me a thought since I walked out the door. He’s got business all over the world. I’m sure he already has someone filling my place.”
Beckett bit back the argument on his tongue. She’d been underestimated her whole life—first by her father, then by Clive. Maybe even by herself. But he could see what they couldn’t. The steel beneath the softness. The survivor who’d clawed her way out of hell and built something beautiful from the ashes.
“Everyone’s got baggage, Marnie. Some more than others. But having baggage doesn’t mean you don’t deserve happiness. You’ve just got to be willing to reach for it.”
“I know that,” she said quietly. “I know this is where I’m supposed to be. I know I’m brave and strong and there’s more to me than people see. I’m not just poor white trash from nowhere. But I came from that. That’ll never change.”
“Does it matter?”
She was quiet for a long moment. “It shouldn’t. It doesn’t matter as much as it used to. But in all the places I lived, no one knew where I came from. I was just me. And still they looked at me like I was a freak of nature.”
“They didn’t understand you. Most people don’t understand when they see something extraordinary.”
Her eyes glistened in the firelight, and she looked away quickly, blinking. “Why are you so kind to me?”
“Because I’ve been waiting fifteen years to be kind to you.” He rose from his chair and crossed to her, kneeling in front of her so they were eye to eye. “Because I’ve thought about you every day since you left. Because that kiss on the Ferris wheel has haunted me, and I’ve spent a decade and a half wondering what might have been.”
“Beckett…”
“I’m not asking for anything tonight, Marnie. No pressure, no expectations. But I need you to know that I see you. The real you. And I’m not going anywhere.”
She reached out and touched his face, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “I’m scared,” she whispered. “I’m scared of how much I want this. How much I’ve always wanted this.”
“Then we take it slow.” He turned his head and pressed a kiss to her palm. “We’ve waited fifteen years. We can wait a little longer.”
He stood and held out his hand. “Come on. Let me show you to the guest room. Izzy keeps it made up for company, and there should be everything you need.”
She took his hand and let him pull her to her feet. “A guest room?”
“I’m a gentleman,” he said, smiling. “At least, I’m trying to be. My mama raised me right.”
“And if I don’t want you to be a gentleman?”
His smile widened, but he shook his head. “Then you can tell me that another time, when you haven’t just bared your soul and the roads aren’t snowed in. I want you to be sure, Marnie. When we take that step, I want you to be absolutely sure.”
She studied him for a long moment, and something shifted in her expression. Something that looked like wonder. “You really are different, aren’t you?”
“I’m just a rancher who’s been in love with the same woman since he was nineteen years old.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Now come on. I’ll get you some extra blankets. It gets cold up here at night.”
He led her up the double staircase to the east wing, where the guest rooms were located. The room he chose had a view of the mountains—or would, once the snow stopped—and a big four-poster bed piled with quilts.
“Bathroom’s through there,” he said, pointing. “Fresh towels in the cabinet. And if you need anything in the night, I’m just across the landing in the west wing.”
“Beckett.” She caught his hand before he could leave. “Thank you. For listening. For not…for not expecting anything.”
“Get some sleep.” He lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
