Page 63 of His Perfect Bride
It was difficult being back. He couldn’t deny that. His thoughts had been jumbled with memories and flashbacks during the past couple of days, and his heart had swelled with grief and pain that first moment he’d reached the bend in the road and saw the remains of the bridge as well as the debris on the riverbank below.
Nonetheless, he hadn’t experienced the same level of despair that had plagued him since the accident. Maybe he’d been too distracted by Sage. Especially because a possessiveness had been compounding inside him, so that when any other man looked at her with even a hint of desire, he wanted to tackle them to the ground, punch them in the eyes, and then roar at them never to even glance at her again.
The beast he’d thought was tamed had reared up inside him. Would he always struggle with that beast?
He silently cursed himself for placing Sage into a situation like this where her honor was at stake…because of him. But hopefully they would be able to put an end to their fake marriage tomorrow.
He hesitated only a second outside the tent flap before shoving it aside and crawling inside.
The triangular-shaped tent sloped low, and his head brushed against the canvas. The darkness prevented him from seeing her or the luggage, but he could feel a bag by his knees and could hear her shifting, probably trying to make more room for him.
He felt around for his bedroll only to find that she’d already laid it out with his blankets. Because the night would grow cold, he’d warned her earlier to sleep in her shoes and clothing, and he intended to do the same.
Crawling forward, he tried to move his bag to act as a barrier between their bedrolls, but he only managed to scoot it at an odd angle before he gave up, stretched out, and covered up.
When he finally lay motionless beside her, he allowed himself a breath. Maybe he could do this after all. Maybe the darkness and the cold would act as a natural barrier. Maybe she was asleep and wouldn’t even notice he was there.
“Are you okay?” Her whisper skimmed across the darkness.
The kindness of her concern only made him all the more aware that she was mere inches away. But he couldn’t think about that, couldn’t start focusing on how close she was. Instead, he clenched his jaw and tried to put her from his mind. “I’m fine.”
“You seem upset.”
He was upset at himself. But he couldn’t admit that because doing so would only force him to admit how obsessed he was over her.
She was quiet for several moments, so that the only sounds were the low murmur of voices from the campfire and the crackle of burning wood. “I’m sure being here is hard,” she whispered.
Being back at the bridgewashard, but being so close to her was even harder. It was one thing to become immersed in his work projects and the engineering feats that he developed. But it was an entirely different matter to allow himself to be absorbed by a woman. What if he failed her? Made mistakes? Ruined things? Caused a disaster?
The truth was, he did often fail, make mistakes, ruin things, and cause disasters. The biggest one lay just up the river a hundred feet.
Was that why he’d called off his engagement with Meredith? Even though he’d never been consumed by her, maybe he’d been afraid he’d ruin their relationship and marriage with his propensity to make so many mistakes.
What made him think he could ever do better with Sage? In fact, with the strength of his feelings for her and just how much he thought about her, he had an even greater chance of causing a disaster.
“I just want you to know,” she continued, “that I’m here to listen if you want to talk about anything.”
“Thank you.” Conversing more about his grief and guilt would take him another step forward in bringing about a resolution to the accident. However, he was in no frame of mind to discuss it, not with how turbulently his thoughts about her were roiling and not with how close she was beside him.
She drew in a shaky breath, as though trying to calm herself, but calm herself from what? Was she nervous to have him beside her?
His muscles tightened. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable with his presence here tonight any more than he had that night above the pub. He pushed up to his elbows. “If you would be more comfortable without me in here?—”
“I’m comfortable.”
“You’re certain?”
“Yes.” Her voice was almost shy.
The trouble was, he was the one uncomfortable, and he was afraid he would end up reaching for her, even with his best efforts not to.
He exhaled a tight breath.
“Something is wrong,” she persisted quietly.
Before he could think of how to respond, her fingers brushed against his arm.
He drew in a sharp breath this time.
