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He fully agreed with her. ‘What do you want from me, Charlotte?’

‘I don’t want separate lives.’ She reached out to his cravat and dug her fingers into it. ‘I want the freedom to see you whenever I want. I want to work alongside you, and I want there to be love between us. But you won’t allow it, will you?’ The raw emotion in her voice made him uneasy, for the conversation was getting out of hand. ‘No matter what I say or do, it will never be enough for you.’

Alaric leaned in until her mouth was a breath away from his. ‘That’s not true.’

He was falling hard for her. And with every moment he tried to create distance or insist on rules, his feelings for this woman threatened to rip his heart out of his chest. She held such power over him and didn’t even know it.

‘Isn’t it?’ She was openly crying now, which made him feel even worse. ‘My own parents didn’t love me. And you don’t want to either.’

That wasn’t true at all. He did care about her, more than he’d ever imagined he could.

‘You’ve already broken my heart,’ she wept. ‘And I don’t want to bring children into a life built upon strict rules. I was raised that way, and I never knew how awful it was until I came to Severn.’ She released his cravat and turned away. ‘But you don’t even want to try to have a real marriage, do you?’ She glared at him and swiped at her tears. ‘You’re afraid to love anyone, afraid to tear down those icy walls around your cold heart.’

‘I—’

‘No, I understand. I am not the woman you wanted to marry. Maybe it’s easier for you when feelings aren’t involved, but it’s far too late for that now.’ She spun away from him and began striding down the path.

‘Charlotte, wait.’ The pathway was still muddy, and her reckless pace downhill wasn’t safe.

She ignored him and continued on. ‘No, we should go back to the house. It will be time for supper soon, and we will have our hour of conversation, as you wanted. Then you will sleep in your room, and I will remain in mine.’

He didn’t know what to say to ease her anger. She stopped on the pathway, gripping her waist as if he’d caused her physical pain. And that wasn’t something he could bear.

‘Come here,’ he said softly. ‘This conversation isn’t over yet.’

‘Yes, it is. You’ve made your wishes perfectly clear.’ She continued walking down the narrow pathway, and he caught up with her.

‘Charlotte, please take my hand. It’s slippery.’

But she ignored the warning and strode away from him. Before he could catch up, her foot skidded against the mud and she fell backwards, a cry tearing from her throat. He lunged for her, but she went over the edge of the hillside, falling hard.

Dread washed over him as his wife rolled over until her body struck a tree, and an agonised cry broke from her.

‘Charlotte!’ he called out, grasping at tree branches for balance as he hurried down the hill to reach her.

Fear roared through him when he saw her motionless on the ground, her body clenched tight with pain. God above, he didn’t know what to do.

‘Are you hurt?’

She was unable to speak as she huddled in a ball, clutching herself. His mind went numb with terror, and he was barely able to think.

Alaric gently lifted her into his arms and managed to make his way back towards the path, carefully avoiding the trees as he brought her back to the house.

She was breathing and alive. But he blamed himself for her fall. If she’d been holding his hand, he could have protected her.

And as he cleared the forest, he was grimly aware that she was bleeding.

It’s all your fault.

Charlotte drifted in and out of consciousness. Her entire body was sore and bruised, but it was her heart that hurt the most. Alaric had confused her with his gifts. The new wedding ring, the field of daffodils…she had wanted so desperately to believe that there was a chance he might learn to love her. She had believed that feelings had started to grow between them. But then, he’d left her for nearly a month. He’d placed their marriage back in its box, firmly defined by rules.

She couldn’t live that way any more. Not with him. Especially now.

Someone was examining her, and she opened her eyes to see an unfamiliar male face. A doctor, perhaps?

‘You gave us quite a scare, Your Grace,’ the man said. He began saying something about healing poultices and medicines, so he was clearly a physician, but her gaze was fixed upon Alaric. He was sitting beside her, his face etched with worry. For someone who had easily carried her across their estate, he’d been seemingly terrified for her and had gone pale.

‘…but I believe there is every reason to think that your baby is safe. It seems that you bore the brunt of the fall on your side, so—’