For she knew he was there. His battle-honed instincts told him as much.
But she would not look at him, and this stung him more than her emotional refusal to be his wife. For time had passed, but her anger and upset still persisted. Like the calling of the gulls and the crashing of the waves beneath them.
Like his own anger and upset which still flooded his veins, making it almost impossible to think clearly.
He scuffed his boots in the long grass, unfamiliar with such a strong sensation of awkwardness. He knew not what to say, nor how to say it.
Mirrie was the one to finally break the silence. “Did you come here to find me?”
“Aye.” He nodded. “Frida told me where you were.”
He hoped he was not breaking a confidence.
“I am not sure I have anything else to say to you, Tristan.”
Her voice was clipped and steady and this also caused him grief. For Mirrie had always spoken to him with warmth, as if he was someone important in her life.
He cleared his throat. “Allow me to speak, please?”
He waited for her small nod of permission. Her face was drawn and he thought he had never before seen her so cold and remote.
And I am the one who has done it to her.
Nay, he didn’t fully understand all the reasons why. But he would take responsibility anyway. He would do whatever it took to make Mirrie smile again.
To make her believe in him again.
“We have spoken much about the importance of truth between us. I must tell you this, I spoke the truth when I told you I love you. I spoke the truth when I asked you to be my wife. There was no recklessness. No flirting. No intent to disarm you. I spoke from my heart.” He put his hand to his chest.
Mirrie looked down at the grass, but not before he had seen tears shimmering in her eyes.
“But I understand that you doubt me.” He left a beat for his words to fall, nodding with resignation when she still did not react.
“I understand that I need to demonstrate my feelings with more than kisses and passion,” he tried again. “I must prove myself worthy of you.”
God’s bones, how he hated to beg. But he would do this and more.
When she finally spoke, her voice was unnaturally high. “There is no question of worthiness.”
He dared take a step closer. “What then?”
She held up a hand, warding him away. A hand he could no longer naught but heed.
“The question is one of consideration.” She bit down on her lip. “Of serious intent.”
Tristan straightened his shoulders. “Very well. That is all the instruction I need.”
Now he had caught her attention. “What do you mean?”
The plan formed in his mind as he spoke. “I will leave Ember Hall right away. Like you, I have naught else to say. But I will return in a sennight and once again ask you to marry me. If you refuse me, because you still doubt my serious intent, then I shall try again a sennight later. And so this will go on, for as long as it takes for you to accept that this is no mere whim of mine.”
He made her a formal bow.
“Farewell, Mirabel.”
Her hazel eyes opened wide, but he did not wait for a response before turning on his heel and marching away from the standing stones.
He had laid out the plans for this battle. It was one he intended to win.
