Page 74 of A Night of Forever
“Then,” Portia said, “I think that proves he wants to try to have something more with you.”
“I don’t think so.” She ran a hand over her face, wiping away the traces of her tears. “The night ended in disaster. I asked one simple question about a scar, and it was as if I’d stabbed him with a dagger.”
“A scar?” Both ladies spoke at once.
Her face heated further. “Yes, just above his left buttock. It’s like a burn.” She sighed. “I touched it, and the question just slipped out. After that, he couldn’t get me out of his bed, and his house, fast enough.”
For several moments the ticking clock on the mantelpiece was the only sound.
Finally Isobel couldn’t bear it any longer. “He’s keeping me at a distance. I felt it this morning in the carriage to and from the bank.”
Portia shook her head. “He very well might be, but it’s not because he doesn’t trust you. I’d say it’s because he’s scared. It’s more likely you’re getting too close.”
“Absolutely,” Marisa said, agreeing with Portia. “Maitland, silly man, thought the way to keep his secrets was to stay away from me too. It would appear Arend is doing the same.”
Isobel wanted to pull her hair out in frustration. Could Arend be pushing her away because she was getting too close? Was his refusal to take her to Deal more about his feelings than about his lack of trust?
“But I accused him of distrust and he did not deny it.”
Portia sighed. “Men. They are so bad at expressing their feelings. I suppose it’s because they are expected to show no weakness. Unfortunately, they correlate feelings with weakness. What they do not understand is that sharing their feelings—opening their hearts—only makes them stronger and more desirable to us.”
Portia’s soft words hung hauntingly in the room.
“She’s right,” Marisa said. “Maitland was so terrified of his growing feelings for me, he refused to come to my bed. I thought he did not desire me, that there was something wrong with me. I had to fight so hard to get him to open up.”
Isobel laughed, and hated the bitter edge she heard in the sound. “Fight? How am I supposed to fight a man like Arend? I don’t know if I can keep taking these little steps forward, only to get shoved away whenever I ask a question he won’t face.”
“Then I suppose there is only one question you need to ask,” Marisa said calmly.
“And that is?”
“Do you love him enough to fight for him? To try to reach him, and help him conquer whatever hides inside?”
The question drew Isobel up short. She loved Arend enough to sleep with him. Or was that merely desire? She hid her face in her hands, confusion tying her up in knots.
“Isobel,” Portia said, “you have to stop this. Look at me.”
Isobel lifted her head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be adding to your troubles.”
“You’re not.” Portia spoke soberly as she caressed her stomach. “In fact, you could not share your situation with two women who would understand it better. Being confined to bed for the remainder of my pregnancy is frightening. And not only for me. Do you think Grayson is not petrified about the possibility of losing me, or this child? And I’m not his only concern. He has to look after his estates, this house, our finances, and his House of Lords responsibilities, and cope with a madwoman out to destroy his loved ones. And all the while I’m lying here, not sure if I can keep our child safe, and that knowledge eats him up inside.”
Portia reached back to arrange the pillows propping her up, but Marisa got there first.
Portia smiled her thanks, leaned back, and continued, still watching Isobel. “Everyone is looking to him. Grayson has to push his fears aside and be strong for those who need him—myself included. I need him to be strong. Iwanthim to be strong, because I’m falling apart. Society expects men to be impervious to pain or emotion. Yet they are only human. I’ve seen Grayson on his knees beside my bed, begging God to keep me and the baby safe. He’s cried in my arms at the unfairness of it all. That is love. He feels safe in my arms, and I share with him what I cannot share with anyone else.”
Andthat, Isobel realized, was what Arend was missing. Someone to hold him, comfort him, and tell him everything would be all right. Someone who loved him.
Portia brushed away a tear, a tremulous smile on her lips. “Give Arend time to learn he doesn’t have to be strong on his own. Be patient. Don’t ask too much of him too quickly. I can assure you it’s worth the wait. To find that special love is better than all the riches in the world. Someone who can be there for you, and for whom you can be there in return.”
By the time Portia finished, all three of them were in tears.
Portia, Isobel decided, was absolutely right. If she loved Arend, she owed it to him, and to herself, to be patient with him. To support him, but let him open up at his pace.
Heart bursting in her chest, she reached over and kissed Portia’s damp cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you share your feelings with me.”
“We are friends.” Portia patted her hand where it rested on the bed beside her. “And Marisa and I are your special someones until Arend accepts that position.”
And hewouldaccept the position, just as shewouldbe enough for a man like him.
