The kiss ended far too quickly as he pulled his lips from hers. “I cannot give you what you deserve.”
She opened her eyes as his breath caressed her lips. “I don’t understand. All I want is you as my companion, and a home, a place I belong.” She implored him with her eyes to overcome whatever kept him from her.
Instead, he stepped back as if he didn’t want to, but had to. “Don’t you want a family, passion, laughter?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I just want love. I cannot have a family and…” She grimaced, “passion is not for me nor is laughter a requirement for happiness.” She shrugged. “I do not require much to be content.”
His gray gaze studied her as if trying to understand something beyond her words, but there was nothing more. After George had died, she had realized her happiest times had been with Marcus. Since she thought him dead, she’d been content be with her family, but then Joanna and Amelia married and she’d begun to contemplate a home of her own. Nothing more.
“But you deserve more.” His softly spoken words slid over her in a soothing, comforting tone.
“I do not believe I deserve more than any other woman in my circumstances. That you are alive was far more than I thought possible, but even now I wish for more, but do I deserve it? I don’t think so. I have already been granted far more in life than many.”
He turned away.
Confused, she remained where she stood, thinking about what he said and how he reacted. Then a cool chill filled her as his circumstances became clear. She should have understood sooner, but now with his father and brother gone, he needed an heir. She could not provide him with that. That had to be why he fought his feelings for her. That he had assured her of his feelings healed some of the hurt. He had to do what he had to do. She understood that. She didn’t like it, but she now understood.
Though Joanna would surely rail at society’s dictates, she did not. They were necessary for the continuance of civilization. No doubt he’d stayed away knowing she was a widow, thinking as he had that she had loved her husband. Then when he became viscount, he couldn’t contact her because he had to have an heir and she’d provided none for her husband. That Marcus even agreed to their pretend betrothal was proof that he loved her, putting off his own duties so she would not be pitied.
Her heart swelled. He was sacrificing so much for her and she kept wanting more. Instead, she must not make demands of him that he couldn’t fulfill. That she could enjoy his company for a little while longer would have to be enough. She couldn’t think about the end of April. She would live only in the present. Joanna had told her that the sentiment was from a poet named Horace, who called it Carpe Diem. She didn’t know Latin like her sister, but understood it meant to make the most of the time she had.
A calmness filled her as her plan emerged into existence. Planning always made things easier, and she’d done none of that since hearing that Marcus was alive. In fact, she had acted much like the old Marcus would have.
“What do you think about so diligently?”
At his question, she found him watching her, his expression once again devoid of expression.
“Why I’m planning, of course.” She gave him a grin. She was tired of the new Marcus and she would bring back the old one before they parted.
The corner of his mouth quirked as if he wished to return the grin. “I should have guessed.”
She chuckled, her heart feeling better, even if it would be for so brief a time. “Yes, you should have.” She strolled past him to the column nearby and touched one of the vine’s leaves. “Do you think when it is full summer that this temple will be completely enclosed?”
“I do.” His voice gave no indication of what he was thinking.
She faced him, leaning her back against the column. “How dark it would be in here. I’m glad we became reacquainted with it before that occurred.”
His brow wrinkled slightly as he contemplated her words. “I imagine many an animal will enjoy the coolness of this temple come summer.”
“True, but now it is filled with promise as opposed to afait accompli.”
His right eyebrow rose, a movement she hadn’t seen him make since before the war. “I would think for someone who enjoys planning that the final product or production, as it were, would be more valued.”
She shook her head even as she pushed away from the column. “Not at all. The joy is in the process. The end means there is no more, no hope, no anticipation. It is done, finished, over. I will always opt for the process.”
Stifling a laugh at his surprise, she slipped through the column and out into the wood. She spotted Atalanta and moved between the trees to reach her. Taking the mare’s reins, she walked her back toward the temple to use a step for mounting.
Marcus stepped out. “Allow me to help.”
Gladly, she stepped into his cupped hands and found her seat. “Thank you.” She thought about racing away, but enjoyed watching him move Freesia to a more open area and mount up. Marcus on a horse would always make her heart flutter. It must be because they were two of her favorite things.
Turning Atalanta, she walked her onto the path again, intending to return the way they’d come.
“Wait.” Marcus moved Freesia in front of her. “I wish to show you something.”
Curious that there could be anything to show her that she hadn’t already seen on the property, she nodded, turning Atalanta around to follow him.
He walked them further into the wood. It seemed to have grown thicker, not the trees but the underbrush, and she didn’t see a path anymore. Finally, he halted.
