After last night, he was in no doubt she was as besotted with him as he was with her, which was a blasted miracle he still couldn’t quite get over, but one he was determined to enjoy for as long as he had breath in his body. But he wanted this interminable visit done so they could just get on with for ever. Now that he had a future, he wanted to start it. They had plans to formulate. Vows to take. Dark-haired, ridiculously clever babies to make. Things he couldn’t begin to do with a bunch of irritating academics in his house. He’d barely managed to steal a few stolen kisses from Effie since breakfast. All of them much too short.
At least Lord Denby and Lord Whittlesey had finally called it a day. Both were headed back towards the house with buried treasure in their pockets which Max had graciously donated after Effie had assured him she already had enough axe and spear heads from the site and wouldn’t miss them.
‘I hate to chivvy the pair of you on—but Eleanor will have my guts for garters if I don’t get you back in time to change for dinner.’
‘It’s all right for you, old chap.’ Sir Percival stared wistfully at the ruins before sighing. ‘You take all this for granted. You get to come back here tomorrow with your charming fiancée and dig to your heart’s content whereas I am still desperately waiting for a second invitation to come back here to Rivenhall.’
‘You are welcome any time, Percy.’ Effie clearly had a soft spot for the man. ‘And I can keep you regularly apprised of the dig via letter. Once Max goes back to sea, I shall be glad of the distraction and the company.’
It was a throwaway comment.
Not intended as a dig or barb, but it wounded him all the same, because after they had made love they had talked for hours and she had let him wax lyrical about all his forgotten dreams of building up his own fleet of ships and not once did she try to talk him out of it or ask what his prolonged and continued absences would mean for them.
She had just accepted them.
Selflessly.
Because she loved him and knew he loved the sea.
But as much as he loved it, it had suddenly lost a great deal of its appeal. The last thing he wanted to do was to have to wave her goodbye and not see her for potentially months on end. Effie hated to be lonely. He knew that now because she had entrusted him with the truth only moments before she entrusted him with her body. Yet here he was, offering her an equally as lonely future while he went off to chase his own dreams and left her to her own devices.
He watched Percy help her out of the trench and purposefully lagged behind them on the way back to the house, much too busy pondering this new revelation in just a few scant days of nothing but revelations to pay much attention to their conversation. The pair of them were halfway up the stairs before he had the wherewithal to call her back, claiming some domestic pretence so that the devoted Percy wouldn’t follow her, and because he did not want to waste a second, tugged her into the closest room.
‘I’ve decided I’m staying here.’
She frowned. ‘All right... But Eleanor is going to expect you to at least change before dinner.’
‘Not here in the drawing room. I meant I am stayinghere.At Rivenhall. Indefinitely. I do not need to go back to sea.’
‘But you love the sea.’
‘I love you more and I never want to have to wave goodbye to you from the dock.’ Just picturing it made his heart ache.
‘I am not Miranda, Max... My affection for you will not wane in your absence.’
He shook his head, grasped her hand. ‘This has nothing to do with her. Iknowyou are nothing like her.’ Was that what this was about? Was he worried history might repeat itself? That she might regret shackling herself to him, too, and think better of it? Philosophically, everything he had had with Miranda had begun to unravel the moment he had sailed away.
He cast his mind back to that fateful day in Portsmouth. Saw Miranda on the dock next to his sister. Saw the charts and orders on his desk in the cabin. His crew nudging him and congratulating him on such a bonny catch. Saw the vast horizon that had always called to him and it all became very clear. He suddenly remembered how eager he had been to be gone and on to the next adventure. The adventure had always been more important then. More important than anything or anyone else.
And it wasn’t now.
He’d been a fool not to have seen it before.
‘I shall be waiting for you when you get back, Max... I promise.’
‘Which is exactly the problem! I don’t want you waiting for me, I want you with me, woman! Sailing away from you wouldn’t be like sailing away from Miranda. I was ready to go then. In fact, I was eager to go. I’d been on land too long and the ocean was calling me.’
‘It’s still calling you.’
‘It is... But my heart is calling louder. Sailing away from you would be like cutting off my arm. I couldn’t bear it.’
‘I don’t want you giving up your dreams for me, Max. We’ll find a compromise to make it work.’ She smiled in reassurance but he saw the sadness in her eyes. ‘Perhaps I could take an active part in the business? Run your offices at the port? Be closer for when you get home...’ The compromise would be all hers and he couldn’t bear that. Effie would drive herself mad not exercising her mind with complicated purpose. She could balance the books and whatever else needed doing in her sleep. Then what? Embroidery? Knitting bonnets for their babies? A lifetime of only being his wife? His chattel? He wouldn’t do that to her either. She was never made to fit in a traditional mould.
‘I don’t expect you to give up your dreams either, Effie, to traipse around following me and mine. That’s hardly fair either. I’d much rather stay here and be part of your life. Digging is your calling and I make an excellent assistant...’
‘Having you and our family is more important.’ She seemed sincere—yet she still deserved more.
‘But it is your dream to have your work published.’
