Page 59 of A Night of Forever
“Kind?” He sounded amused. “There is a kind?”
Amused was good. “Well, I assume you like a woman with particular attributes.”
Now he laughed. “Yes. Her most particular attribute should be that she wants only one night with me.”
She’d been thinking about height, form, hair, and eye color, so his words startled her. “At least you’re honest,” she said, admitting to herself that she was jealous. If it were possible, she’d tear the hair off the head of every woman who had seized that opportunity. She took a moment to fight down her possessiveness, then went on. “My type of man was anyone who would marry me by the end of the season so I could escape Victoria.” How could she have even considered such a thing? “I didn’t care if he was young or old, fat or thin, rich or poor. I have money. What I didn’t have was a way of escape.”
“And that’s why you would take a risk and marry me? I’ll do as a way of escape?” He sounded so vulnerable.
“You didn’t let me finish.” This would have to be done delicately. She squeezed his hand and took a deep breath. “Since I made friends with Marisa, then met Evangeline and the wives of the other Libertine Scholars, my priorities have changed. So has my life. I am staying with His Grace. I’m free of Victoria. I’m also financially independent and have no need of marriage.”
She felt his broad shoulders sag. “I said I have noneed.” She squeezed his hand again. “I do, however, have a desire. I desire a man I can share my life with, the way your friends and their wives do. If that is the type of marriage you envision, then I’m willing to continue as we are and see if this relationship can develop into more.”
She looked up into his face as she spoke. Even in the dimness of the garden she caught the expressions that flowed across his handsome face. Apprehension. Resignation. Defeat.
“What if I cannot offer you what Maitland, Sebastian, Grayson, Christian, and Hadley offer their wives?”
“They love each other. That’s why their marriages are so successful. Can you not offer me love? Don’t be angry, but Marisa shared details of your time in Brazil. After your experience I can understand why you’re hesitant, but Arend, there is no need to fear it.”
“Fear.” His laugh had that same bitter edge as before. “Don’t all sensible men fear love in the beginning?”
What strange creatures men were. “But love is the best thing we have. The best thing we can do.” How could anyone be afraid of that? Love made life worthwhile.
The muscles in the arms holding her were suddenly rigid. “You have no understanding of who I am, Isobel. Or who I was.”
“And you don’t understand me either. I don’t care about your past.” Except for a strong desire to do something unladylike and improper to all the women who had shared his bed. “I care about the man you are now, and the man you could become.”
She leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips. Light. Tender. “If we can trust each other and be open, then maybe we can accept each other, faults and all. No one is perfect, Arend.”
He let out a breath, hugging her tightly. “Trust is difficult enough. Revealing my past?” He shook his head. “I may never be able to do that.”
It was hard for most people to open up to someone else. No one wanted to be vulnerable.
“Then you have to make a decision. Is it possible that I am the one person with whom you’d be comfortable sharing the most personal details of your life? I will not settle for only part of my husband. I want to know all of him.”
A tremor ran through his body. “No, you don’t want to know all of me. Trust me on that.”
He tried to pry her arms from around his neck, but she refused to let go. “A relationship without trust is like a carriage without horses,” she said. “You can sit in it all you want, but it will not go anywhere. I want to go on the journey of life with you, Arend. And that means moving forward—together.”
“Then there is no need to look back.”
If only that were always true. “There is, if it’s the past that stops us from falling in love. It’s hard to love a man who keeps himself a mystery.”
He sighed. “Men are not made like women. We are not designed to be vulnerable.”
She remained silent, thinking. Perhaps what he saidwastrue. Even she expected men—especially a man like Arend—to be invincible. Someone who could and would protect her, no matter what danger they faced. It seemed unfair of her to expect him to show himself impervious to pressure one moment, and then later—on the instant she demanded it—expose himself to her, naked and unmasked.
Perhaps the face a man showed the world was so he could be what society expected of him—the protector.
She could compromise if he would. “I don’t necessarily expect you to trust me immediately, or with everything. Choose what you think I need to know about your past in order for me to get to know you. However, I do expect honesty. Love without trust is impossible, and marriage without love I will not accept.”
There. She’d thrown down the gauntlet.
Would he pick it up?
“Come.” He rose and put her back on her feet for a second time. “We should return to the ballroom.”
His lack of response hurt her, but she’d made her case. There was nothing more to do. When he slipped her arm through his and began a slow walk back toward the ballroom through the garden, she didn’t resist.
