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“You haven’t forgiven me for leaving and you haven’t forgiven me for dying.”
“Roman, you have always left, and somehow I forgave you because of who you are and what you did for your country. But you gave your word to me, and you broke it. We were supposed to be together from that day forward, and no sooner than the words were out of your mouth, you were gone. And as soon as I let my guard down again, you will be goneagain. Do you not realize how many times I had to watch my mother cry over my father? Weeping in despair because she didn’t know when he would return? If he would return? That’s not love, Roman. That is a fool in love with a fanciful dream.”
“Shelene, I am no longer with the Home Office. Bathurst can no longer make demands on my time.”
“Oh, I get to do that now?”
“Yes! As you wish.”
“You are not understanding me, or you wouldn’t be so glib in proclaiming your intentions are pure and honest while I explain my fear. I will go with you to Cadiz and we will bring Udad and Papa since it is a buying expedition.”
“I’ll make the arrangements.” Roman stood, staring down at her from his lofty height. “When are you going to believe me? A month from now? A year? I will not wait that long to be your husband again. I may have failed you as a man, but we will make no progress living separate lives. I will come to your room tonight, after dark. Do not bar the doors from me, Shelene. I would hate to wake Antonio by bursting through a locked door. I would shout to the world that I want you and that I love you, but I will allow you and everyone in the household to think that you have the upper hand. For now.”
“If I say no?”
“Antonio will wonder, one day, why he has no siblings. I can’t let that happen.”
Shelene watched him walk away, knowing he was serious. She soothed a few loose strands of hair back and then walked toward her workroom.
When she was troubled or worried, art was the best antidote, aside from Antonio.
Roman. Roman. Roman. There was nothing so clear to her as her love for him. In spite of denying him, she yearned for him. Every moment. Every day.
She forced her gaze upon the stained glass. The blue was working beautifully in the window. She thought she would be able to deliver the frame to Father Etienne within the week. She walked to the shelving where she kept her other projects and pulled out the circular frame from the top shelf.
She’d started it when she found out she was pregnant. A child should know who his father was, and Shelene had started a stained glass of Roman’s visage. Just from his shoulders up. All the colored glass was separated. The lead was ready. The putty. But when it came to his face, she couldn’t see him clearly.
Once Uncle had delivered the horrific news, she’d put the project away, unable to face the emptiness of the stained glass or life without Roman.
Why couldn’t she just accept Roman as he was? Mama had done it with Papa. She’d endured. She’d grabbed joy where she could find it.
A piece of paper fluttered beneath the wooden frame. It was a free-hand drawing of Roman that she’d completed years ago when she was drowning in love for him. She’d drawn him to perfection, and aside from a few new wrinkles at his eyes, he looked much the same, even after his distressing voyage.
Putting everything away again, Shelene left the room and hurried up the stairs to check on Tono. Mrs. Johns sat on the floor with him, a blanket spread out so he could roll about and chew on his few playthings. He didn’t even notice Shelene.
“Mrs. Johns, I’m going to ride for a while. I should be back in two hours or so.”
“Are you taking a companion?”
“No.” She rarely took a riding companion. This wasn’t England. “Why do you ask?”
“Señor Forrester has asked us all to be especially vigilant for the time being.”
“Oh, he has, has he?” Wasn’t that just like him…?
Well, yes it was. She shouldn’t be at all surprised that he was being cautious what with his distrust of Uncle Francisco. If she weren’t Roman’s wife and Uncle’s niece, could she be honest with herself and admit that her uncle’s turnabout was suspicious and troubling?
And with such impeccable timing.
He’d arrived just as she’d neededsomeonewho had a semblance of strength and direction. And he’d recognized her time of weakness. What would it take to find out if Uncle’s pardon was legitimate? Roman would have already checked. He had his sources. Had he discovered anything?
One of the Arabians, Arsu, waited outside already saddled. Shelene patted the beautiful bay and pressed her nose into the horse’s neck, inhaling the earthy scent of hay and barn and sweat.
She stepped to the mounting block and swung into the saddle. While living in London, she had little to do and few people with whom to speak. Aside from her stained-glass art and tea with her mother and Martina, she’d been basically alone. Oh, there were those few times when she’d been invited to minor balls.
Here in Spain, she could not get away from anyone. Night and day, the household was a whirlwind of activity. There was very little time to smell the fragrance of the earth and feel the wind blow through her hair.
The horse was strong between her legs and loped along with an easy gait. Arsu was a joy to ride. God, she was so happy to be home. Aside from her memories of Mama, her time in London was a blur of forgetfulness. Here, her childhood came alive. Here, her love for Roman had blossomed. Here, her family would thrive long into the future.
