Sebastian had somehow convinced himself Margaret was only marrying George for companionship. He’d thrust away the truth. Had she told him directly? Likely, she had. Several times. Hell and damnation, that was the reason she’d come to his room that first evening. He’d convinced himself she’d only been seeking physical pleasure.
It was doubtful that Margaret had even realized she’d wanted the other aspect of love.
He’d been so damn intent upon his needs, on his dreams, that he’d failed to acknowledge hers. When had he become such a selfish bastard?
He and Margaret had come to an impasse and this ought not to have taken him unawares.
A sharp pain in the region of his heart ached—not quite physical but it might as well be. He stared up at the sky. The night was clear, making it easy to locate Ursa Major and then Polaris. This normally caused him all manner of excitement for his coming journey but tonight it only served to remind him of the distance he would put between himself and Margaret. He lowered his chin and glanced around to note his more earthly coordinates. But of course, he’d stopped at the exact spot where they’d been searching for the ring.
A glint in the grass had him blinking and then walking forward, almost as though in a daze, he bent over to identify the source.
The ring.
25
So Good
Margaret was floating, as though in water but not quite. It was more as though she was flying. The sun shone brightly all around her. She was not alone.
Lawrence sat beside her, dressed in his favorite waistcoat and jacket and well-worn Hessians. A child walked beside him, a boy. She did not recognize him but knew that he must be Little Laurie.
Her son.
“Margaret.” Lawrence touched her arm. She couldn’t see his face, but it was him. His presence filled the space around her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to leave you.”
“I know.” She spoke, but not really. She communicated with her thoughts.
“Nor did I, Mama.”
She’d had this dream before but not for some time. It was all very familiar, comforting even.
Lawrence leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. Again, it was familiar, comforting. The same as it had been when he was alive. Uncanny, really.
He’d been her friend, first and foremost. He’d had his faults, but everyone did. The child ran away but before the form of her husband could follow, she reached out and grasped his wrist.
“Did you love me?” she asked. “Did your heart race for me?”
He smiled sadly. “Please, Margaret. You know the answer.”
“Did you never want more for us?”
A look of disappointment. “Why would we want anything more? Was not my affection enough? You are my countess, my lady. I loved you. I would never have disrespected you with my baser needs.”
“Disrespect me.” She’d wanted to demand that on so many occasions. “Please!”
She’d lain beneath him in frustration, chastised on those few occasions when she’d grasped at his buttocks or writhed so that he could touch her core more intimately.
“Please, dear, hold still for me.” His words had been spoken with love.
She squeezed her eyes tightly.
“Won’t you leave your gown on for me? We are not commoners.”
She had not removed it again. Even so, when he went to leave, she felt empty, unsatisfied.
“Stay with me this time.” The face above her was no longer that of her husband but of a healthy man, a strong and vibrant man with eyes almost the color of silver.
“Don’t leave me.”
