“Kor,Idon’t think we ought to do anything else together like…like what we’ve been doing.Ithink we need to stop before…before we go too far.”
My heart sank—not just because she was cutting out our physical activities—but because of the fear and pain and guiltIsaw in her lovely gold-ringed eyes.
“If that’s the way you want it, that’s how it will be, baby,”Isaid.“Idon’t want to do anything that will make you feel uncomfortable or unhappy.”
She looked at me uncertainly.
“You mean…you’re okay with it?You’renot going to get angry or try to…to…”
“I’m not my uncle,”Isaid shortly, keeping my eyes on the road.“Iwould never, ever force you.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.Andthen she started to cry.
I wanted so badly to pull the car over and take her in my arms—to comfort her and soothe her.Butthere was a wall between us now—an invisible barrierIcouldn’t breach without her permission.
SoIjust kept driving, wishing things were different and knowing they never could be.
THIRTY-THREE
VIVIENNE
How couldIbe so happy and free at the start of the day and then feel so sad and trapped by the end of it?
The question kept circling through my mind asKorandIdrove home from town.Neitherof us had much to say after the disaster at theCouncilmeeting and the unpleasant encounter withMrs.Browardand her poor daughter.Thecheerful mood we'd shared that morning had vanished completely and in its place was a heavy silence that seemed to press down on both of us.Isat looking out the window as the mountains rolled by and tried not to think about everything that had happened.Unfortunately,Iwasn't very successful.
The words people had said about me kept replaying in my head.Barren.Old.Useless.AMoonWidowwho ought to be in mourning instead of running around town in a pretty sundress with a handsome youngAlpha.
I told myselfIshouldn't care what they thought.Itold myself they were cruel and small-minded and jealous.Butcruel words have a way of finding the places where we're already wounded andIcouldn't stop hearing them.
When we got back toWolvertonManor,Iwent upstairs to change before dinner.Assoon asIstepped into my bedroom, my gaze fell on my mirror—on the white sundressI'dso stupidly worn to town.
Earlier, that dress had made me feel beautiful…now it made me feel foolish.
With a sigh,Iopened the closet and reached automatically for one of my old dark dresses.Thefamiliar gray fabric slid through my fingers, andIpulled it on without even thinking about it.Bythe timeIlooked in the mirror again, the woman staring back at me looked much more like the personBlackridgeexpected me to be—a widow.
A barren widow,my mind whispered cruelly.
I closed my eyes, trying to push the thought away but it remained.
Mrs.Browardhadn't said anythingIhadn't heard before.Foryears people had whispered about my failure to giveCarteran heir.Sometimesthey whispered behind my back and sometimes they didn't bother lowering their voices at all.I'dspent twenty years trying not to let those comments hurt me and somehow, they still found a way beneath my skin.
Twenty years.
Twenty years of disappointingCarter.Twentyyears of doctor visits and fertility tonics and prayers to theGoddessthat were never answered.Twentyyears of wondering what was wrong with me and why my body refused to do the one thing everyone expected it to do.
And now hereIwas at forty years old, foolishly imagining that someone likeKorcould actually want me.
The worst part was thatIknew hedidwant me—that was what made it hurt so much.
IfKorhad only been flirting with me or amusing himself, it would have been easier somehow.Butevery time he looked at me, every time he smiled at me, every time he called me beautiful,Iknew he meant it.Iknew he saw something in me worth loving.
The problem was thatIcouldn't quite see it myself.Whywould he want me?Iwas too old for him, andIcould never give him heirs.Theplain fact was,Ididn’t deserve him.Ididn’t deserve the happiness he offered.Ihadn’t earned it—Ihad failed in the only thing that mattered in life.Ihad never had a baby and according to everythingI’dbeen taught my whole life, that was all that mattered.
Dinner that evening was one of the most uncomfortable mealsIcould remember.
Not becauseKorwas angry with me—if anything, he seemed worried.Everynow and thenIwould catch him watching me with concern in his warm brown eyes and then he would quickly look away.Thedistance between us wasn't coming from him…it was coming from me.
I was the one who had insisted we stop.Iwas the one who had drawn a line between us.AndIcouldn’t bring myself to cross that line.
