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‘You saw me talking to Amata.’
She bit her lip, no soft seduction, no action drawn from arousal but from concern and worry. She nodded quickly.
‘I was telling her that I was no longer able to entertain—’
‘You shouldn’t have done that.’
Danyl tempered the streak of anger igniting in his chest. He knew she’d struggle against this, against their feelings. Instead he sought the same control he used with any hurt, scared animal.
‘If I am to be honest with myself, I owed it to Amata to be honest with her. I am done looking for a biddable bride, because...’ he pushed on despite the fact her hand had come up between them as if in an attempt to ward off his words, his love ‘...because I know of a woman who is not biddable. Who is stubborn and determined and powerful and absolutely the only person I want to spend the rest of my life with.’
It hurt to see her shaking her head. But he pushed that away too.
‘Danyl, you were right. We did need to confront the past, resolve our issues, address the past. But only so we could move on. Move on so that you could find a bride that would be a suitable queen.’
‘If you believe that there is someone else out there more suitable for me, then you haven’t understood anything in the last twenty-four hours.’
* * *
Mason sucked down the hurt of his accusation. Because those hours had meant so much to her, and given so much to her. She had felt healed by the sharing of the past, of the grief for their son, and of their exquisite passion. It had set her on a new path, one where she felt finally able to move ahead on the shaky legs of a newborn fowl. But for a moment that glimpse of hurt when she had woken up alone, when she had thought him closing down a future between them before coming back to Aram—that had shattered her heart into a thousand pieces. It was a thousand reflections of the loss and pain she’d always thought she’d feel when he finally tired of her. And instead of feeling hope when she saw him with Amata, instead of being soothed now by his words, she wanted them to stop. She wanted him to take them back. Because even just the reflection of his rejection was enough to create a panic in her chest like she’d never felt before. It was threatening her now. Tickling at the edges of her senses, closing up her throat and sitting on her chest. She knew it was fear. But its hold was strong.
‘Have you? Understood what the last day has meant?’ he demanded, his voice beginning to fray.
‘Perhaps it just meant something different to me, Danyl.’ She hated the pleading tone in her voice, but she desperately wanted him to understand. Understand that it was impossible. That she’d never believed in fairy tales where the Princess was swept off her feet and into the castle by the handsome Prince. That reality was mundane and difficult and painful, and even that was more bearable than having the fantasy ripped away.
‘I told you. I told you how much it hurt when you pushed me away last time.’ His words called to her, guilt mixed with fear making it all so much worse. He reached out and his thumb snagged her chin, bringing her to meet his gaze. The sincerity in his eyes, the pain, the love...it was all there for her to see.
‘Don’t do this again. Please don’t do it again. I love you,’ he whispered.
‘I can’t, Danyl. Please let me go.’
‘No. Tell me. Tell me what you’re running from again. Tell me what it is that you’re afraid of.’
His accusation hurt and set fire to the cocktail of emotions coursing through her body. Flames of anger, hurt and grief licked her skin, burning and scorching. Because she was afraid of how she felt. She was afraid of her love for him. Because she did love him. She always had. And she knew in that moment that s
he always would.
‘That you’ll leave me just like my mother did!’ she cried out, unaware of the unsettled horses stamping on the floor, picking up on her emotions.
‘I am not your mother,’ he said, his voice quiet and painfully reasonable in direct contrast to her own hysteria.
‘We’ve spent a total of about twenty-five hours together.’
‘Ten years ago we spent a hell of a lot more time together than that,’ he growled.
‘And in ten years people change! How can you think you’re in love with me? How can you trust that?’
‘How can you not trust yourself, Mason? How can you not feel it too? Or is it rather that you don’t trust me enough to love you?’
And that was it. He could see it in her face, in her eyes, the way her body recoiled from his touch.
‘Love is a leap of faith, Mason. Faith and trust in someone else. It never really mattered, did it? Whatever I did, it wouldn’t have ever been enough.’
The moment the words had left his lips, he knew them to be true. He turned and walked away from the stables, away from Mason, away from the last piece of hope his heart had held.
CHAPTER TWELVE
December, present day
