Page 69 of Bargaining for the Barrister
Her shoulders drooped, his words unintentionally adding a weight to her shoulders. “I would like to relieve him of at least the latter obligation. Someday soon, I hope.” The heaviness of her tone made him want to kick himself.
He hadn’t meant to imply she was a burden to him, but it was clear she felt that way. “I merely meant—”
“No matter. I know what you meant. Logan is at an age when he needs to think of starting his own family. He needs something to root him at home as I cannot. I will not let my presence prevent him from having a full life.”
Her motives for coming to Brookeside had been selfless from the beginning. It wasn’t her fault her would-be suitor was so disappointing. He tightened his hands on the reins once more and did not let up until they reached the elms. Starling yanked his head back a few times after Paul dismounted, and he knew his horse was impatient with him. He patted him as a gesture of apology and tied him to the nearest tree. Slipping off his jacket, Paul slung it over his saddle. No use sweating like his horse and adding to his nerves.
He moved to Louisa’s side, but she was already sliding down from her sidesaddle. He put one hand on her waist and the other on her arm, smoothing her descent. Once she was safely on the ground, he released her quickly and stepped back, not wanting to think for even a moment about the feel of her. He did not deserve to think about her. After securing her horse next to his, he cleared his throat and motioned to the pond. Several ducks landed on the water in front of them, and Louisa stopped to watch them.
Suddenly, she turned to face him, folding her arms across her chest. Her mouth was set and her posture determined. “Are you going to tell me why you followed me? Was it to tell me again to forget about Mrs. Hammond?”
Paul ran his hands down the sides of his legs. “No, I won’t tell you to forget her. Even I cannot do that.” She looked at him expectantly, and he knew it was time. “I wanted to talk to you about what you said before you left.” He pointed toward the pond, inviting her again to walk with him. He could think better if they were moving. She gave a quick nod, and they fell into step, parallel with each other, though she kept an ample distance. They walked away from the ducks toward the narrow dock used for fishing. A variety of poplars, birches, and even a willow along the bank cast a line of shade, sheltering them from the sun, although perhaps it would not be needed for long. A small cloud cover had started to creep across the sky since he’d left Rothbrier, as if mirroring his fears ever trying to steal away his hopes.
He was still trying to decide how to explain himself when Louisa sighed and spoke first. “I should not have insulted you.” Taken back, he stared at her. She pushed back the limp curls by her face. Her ride had loosened her coiffure, but Paul thought she looked lovelier than ever. Or would if she were still smiling. Her frustration with him, and the obvious hurt he’d inflicted, only made him angrier at himself.
“Yes, you should have,” he said. “To be honest, your words stunned me.” He reached out and pulled at a tall piece of grass growing by the bank. He broke it in half, happy to have his hands occupied. “I can hardly believe the accuracy of your statement. My intentions were not wholly bad, but... pride undoubtedly played a role in my drive for independence. I needed to prove to myself that I was more than Mrs. Hammond’s cast-off son. That I was not leeching on the Sheldons and draining them of their fortune.”
“It is a good thought in theory, until you realize a family does not function in a body of one. You cannot decide what the Sheldons feel for you or what they offer. A family both gives and takes, and you act as if you are the exception—as if you are an independent entity undeserving of what they freely give you.”
Paul shrugged. “For a traditional family the function is clear, but for me, the familial roles and expectations are blurred. I am living off the charity of my aunt and uncle, who have tried desperately to pretend I am their son. I crave to have that position solidified by some means of my own two hands.” He turned, eager to see her acceptance of his explanation.
A sigh slipped from her lips. “I am glad you explained your feelings. It does help me understand.” But she turned her face away from him.
He’d just bared his heart to her and she’d turned away? He scoffed. “Yet you still judge me.”
She shook her head, finally facing him once more. “I’m merely disappointed you were right and I was wrong.” Her tone was in jest, but her discouragement could not be masked. “It is of little consequence anyway, as I am leaving tomorrow and you will never have to see me again.” She turned and walked down the narrow dock. Her boots clicked on the weather-stripped wood, farther and farther away from him.
Whatever had just happened did not settle him as he had hoped. Instead, a wave of nausea uncentered him. He put his hands around the back of his neck, crushing his cravat and collar. A few deep breaths later and still no ideas. “Louisa, wait!” Jogging after her, a familiar sense of unease stilled over him as it always did when he was so close to a body of water. He suppressed the haunting memories of the past that his heightened state of anxiety seemed to bring out with greater force than usual, and focused on Louisa’s back.
He reached her too soon, with no thought of what could fix the gulf between them.
She stared into the water as if the answer lay beneath the green-black abyss.
“Louisa, we can’t part like this,” he said desperately.
“Then, how would you have us part?” Her mask was back—a smile and an unaffected tone. “Would you have me ride by your estate and wave my handkerchief out our carriage window? Or perhaps slip a second note into your waistcoat, detailing all your good qualities that I promise to remember?”
There was too much turmoil sifting inside him for him to laugh. His brow lowered. “At least you still think I possess some good qualities. Or, at least, I hope you do.”
“Considering you are a man who has rejected me in nearly every conversation that has passed between us, I am surprised I do.” She turned to face him again, her person outlined by the slow rippling water, the shade trees, and a sky far bluer than the storm brewing in her eyes.
Their gaze held in a tug-of-war of will and heart. Which would yield and which would succeed? He knew which he wanted to win.
His hand reached up of its own accord, encircling her cheek. His thumb stroked her smooth skin, and the yearning to hold her—to ease her worries and settle his own—burned inside of him.
Louisa yanked her head back. “Don’t touch me!” The sharpness of her words tore at him.
All his life he’d pushed others away, and now he wanted to hold someone and couldn’t. The irony was not lost on him.
“You have no right to touch me.” She pointed her finger at his chest. “I swear, if you come near me again—I don’t care how valiant your cause is—you’ll be forced to marry me. So if I were you, I’d leave while you can.” She folded her arms tightly against her and took another step away from him.
What happened next was too fast to prevent. Her heel went over the edge of the dock, and the swiftness of her movement propelled her body to follow. Paul reached for her, grasping only air. A large splash and she was gone from his view. Two heart-pounding moments later, Louisa surfaced but only long enough to scream before she went back down. Mentally, Paul was back in the attic at Rothbrier, and all he could hear was her voice telling him, “Not everyone learns how to swim, you know.”
She’d never learned.
His boots slapped against the wood as he threw them off. Nothing could weigh him down—not even his worst memories. With a lungful of air, Paul dove into the pond after Louisa. Cold immersed him, but he barely registered it as a consuming fear overtook his senses.
Chapter 30
