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Even as he nodded, she was shaking her head.
‘No. Laszlo. That doesn’t make sense. None of them knew about our marriage. So how could you have let them down?’
His face quivered. ‘You’re right. You don’t understand.’ He frowned. ‘Even now people in my family talk about my parents. They were so perfect together. And they made everything look so effortless. Marriage. Love. Life.’
He grimaced. Even the difference in their backgrounds had been no obstacle to their happiness; instead their passionate belief in each other had simply blurred the lines between the Romany and non-Romany world.
‘And you wanted to be like them.’ It was a statement not a question.
After a brief hesitation he let out a breath and nodded. ‘I wanted what they had. That passion—that rightness.’ He gave a twisted smile. ‘I think, actually, it’d be more accurate to say that, as their son, I expected it. As my right. And I thought I had it.’
‘Why?’ she whispered.
And she was suddenly more grateful than she’d ever been that it was his turn to speak, for she couldn’t have opened her mouth again without crying.
‘I met you.’ He smiled again, but this time his smile seemed to illuminate his whole face. ‘And I was desperate—no, determined not to lose you. We married and everything was perfect. At first.’
She stared at him, feeling a spasm of nausea. ‘And then I ruined it?’
Abruptly he grabbed her arms and shook her, his face tightening with anger. ‘No. You didn’t ruin it. You were just young and nervous and inexperienced.’
She struggled against him, words tumbling haphazardly from her lips. ‘You were young too.’
‘Spoilt and arrogant is what I was! I was used to getting what I wanted,’ he said harshly. ‘And what I wanted was for you to make our marriage work—because I sure as hell wasn’t going to. I just assumed everything would fall into place.’ His eyes fixed on her face. ‘I was wrong.’
‘We were both wrong!’ she raged back at him.
His hands dropped to his sides and he let out a ragged breath. ‘I thought it’d be easy.’
He frowned, remembering how inadequate he’d felt. How lonely too—for he’d been too proud to admit his problems to anyone.
‘Only it wasn’t. And when it got hard I blamed you. I pushed you away,’ he said quietly. ‘I’m the one that ruined everything, pireni! I hurt you and I lied to you, and because of my arrogance and stubborn pride I let you go when I should have done everything in my power to make you stay. And then I had to lie to both my families. All my grandmother wanted was to see me happily married before she died, and I messed that up too.’
His voice cracked and he lowered his head.
‘I never meant to hurt you, Prudence. You have to believe me. I just wanted it to be perfect.’
Feeling tears prick the backs of her eyes, Prudence shook her head. ‘I know,’ she said softly. ‘And I don’t blame you for what happened.’
Her throat tightened. It was no wonder he’d reacted so badly when their marriage had seemed to falter.
Reaching out, she took his hand and squeezed it. ‘You know this morning, when you said we’re more alike than we thought? You were right. Our parents’ marriages influenced us way too much.’ She laughed weakly. ‘I actually think it was some kind of miracle that we even got together in the first place.’
Gripping his hand, she dragged him across the room.
‘Listen to me, Laszlo!’ She picked up the photo, brandishing it like a weapon. ‘I’ve spent years looking at photos, paintings and sketches. And it’s true what they say: every picture does tell a story. And this is their story. Not yours.’
She put the frame down carefully.
‘I don’t have a photo of you, but if I did it would tell me your story. The story of a young man who made some mistakes but who is loyal and devoted to his family and who has learned to forgive and trust.’ Her eyes flared. ‘You haven’t let anyone down. Your parents’ marriage may have looked easy from the outside, but you only knew them as a child. And I’m sorry that your grandmother didn’t know about our marriage, but you made her very happy, Laszlo. And you took care of her—just like you’re taking care of Janos now.’
He caught hold of her arm and pulled her tightly into his arms, burying his face in her hair. ‘I don’t deserve you,’ he murmured.
For a long, long time, he just held her, his warm breath on her neck. Then at last, he sighed.
‘Talking is so tiring. How do women do so much of it?’
She pulled back slightly and smiled up at him. ‘We are the stronger sex,’ she said quietly.
