Counter-Siege
Chapter nineteen
“I’m sorry,” Mara said gently. “I know you will miss me.”
The bees buzzed around her as if they understood.
Perhaps they did—or their queen did, at least. She did not understand words, of course, but they had communicated much over the years, simple messages like there is food here and this human is no threat, do not sting him.
The queen and her workers had listened, of course.
She had given them unprecedented sources of nectar, and their colony would thrive with the year’s unexpected bounty.
Ethan probably did not realize how she had protected him, but perhaps he did. He seemed like a man with a healthy respect for and understanding of pollinators.
It was one reason she—
Ah, but she was not ready to think that. Not yet.
She was waiting for him to arrive.
He had begun to follow her before she was half done with her labor, and she had laughed watching his progress.
He was faster than her—his legs were long, and while he had to navigate the thorny path she’d created, he did not have to stop to bid farewell to each plant, as she did.
When he had narrowed the gap between them, she shouted taunts at him.
Mocking his slowness, his armor, his wits, though she knew he was clever and brave.
She couldn’t very well tell him that, not yet.
Ethan had just grinned at her and shouted back, all defiance. Well, admiration and defiance. He seemed to hold them both in equal measure.
It was exhilarating. Breathtaking.
And now he was almost here.
Mara stood in the very center of her bower. These trees were still blooming. She would let them go, too, but not until the final moment, until she and Ethan had faced each other again. She needed their shelter and comfort, their support, so that she could be brave one last time.
Also, she knew Ethan had a healthy appreciation for drama. Especially when it was excessive.
She heard him panting before she saw him, felt his footsteps on the earth outside her shelter, and she raised her head high. She was not here to be rescued, nor to be conquered, nor to be his prize.
It was simply time for the end.
He strode into the shadow of the trees with only the barest hint of a limp.
“Hello,” he said.
“Hello.”
He grinned. “You know, if you wanted to talk to me, you could have just waited for me.”
“I could have,” she agreed. “But there was something I needed to do. And…I wished our speech to be here.”
Ethan turned in a slow circle, surveying the bower. “I can see why. It’s like Rivendell.”
She frowned. “I do not think Archie and Veronica lived among the flowers.”
Ethan gave her a wry look. “You’ve seen Riverdale but not Lord of the Rings.”
“I do not like the computer effects. I have said this.”
“It was a model.”
She stamped her foot on the sand. “Are you trying to irritate me?”
“What can I say?” He flashed her another grin. “You just naturally bring it out of me.”
She huffed out a sigh. “You make it very difficult to say what I wished to.”
“I’m sorry.” He took a few steps forward, then went down on one knee before her. “Speak, my queen.”
Princess, she thought, but did not start that argument. “I wished to thank you.”
He blinked, confusion passing over his face. “That’s why you wanted me to chase you through a maze of cacti and bees?”
“You are moving to the end,” she said sharply. “Let me finish.”
“Yes. Of course.”
Mara continued, her heart beating madly, though she kept her voice calm. “You have been a true friend to me, despite our conflict. I will forever be grateful for the kindness you have shown me and…and the lesson I have learned.”
He opened his mouth, then shut it at her glare.
“I have been foolish,” she said. “I have been clinging to my grief like a shield, and because of that I became an obstacle to you. I fought you, and wounded you, and for that I am sorry. I am sorry I did not see sooner what I truly needed to do.”
“And what is that?” Ethan prompted when she did not continue.
“It is time for me to move on.” She sighed. “Time to forget.”
Ethan’s eyes flashed, and he stood swiftly. “No. That’s not right.”
“Of course it is right,” she snapped. “I must live. I must—” She took his hands, both of them. “I want to move on. I want—”
“Mara.” Ethan’s gloved hands tightened on hers for a moment, then he released her. “Fucking gloves. One second.” He ripped them off, then took her hands again. His skin was warm and damp, rough and real. “Mara,” he began again. “I’m all in favor of you moving on.”
“Then you must want me to forget.”
His eyes burned into hers and he stepped closer, close enough she could feel the warmth of his breath. “That’s the last thing I want,” he said fiercely.
She stared at him, her head muddled. Was this what a concussion felt like? This tangle keeping her mind and her words from connecting? “I don’t understand,” she whispered.
“I don’t, either,” he said ruefully. “I know you invited me to chase you up into the most romantic setting possible, but I don’t want to presume anything about your feelings. I don’t know what you want.”
Perhaps he was the one with the concussion again. “I want you. Obviously.”
He met her eyes. “But do you want me want me or…?” He inched even closer, his body heat practically rippling her vision, his scent taking over her senses.
Heat suffused her, and she felt the earth trembling beneath her, her emotions rippling out. “It…is not just your body that I desire. But I cannot stop you if you wish to leave.” She leaned in, pressing her forehead to his throat, just above his hard armor. “Is that still what you wish?”
“God, Mara.” He bent, inhaling deeply, lips brushing her hair.
“I never wanted to leave. Never. But I couldn’t keep intruding on something so fucking important to you.
” He pressed his feverish forehead to hers.
“I want you more than anything. But I also don’t want you to forget Tristan. You can’t forget him. Not ever.”
“Why are you like this?” she muttered, every part of her at war. “I am offering myself to you, free of encumbrances.”
“Thank you,” he said. “But I can’t accept…” He laughed wildly. “Sorry, it feels weird to be talking about you like a birthday present. Let me rephrase all of this. I am all in favor of you moving on, and I’m honored you want to move on with me. I want to move on with you, too.”
“Oh.” Mara brushed her cheek against his. “Then—”
“But you can’t forget Tristan.”
Mara stepped back to glare at him. “You do not tell me what I can and cannot forget.”
“Please listen.” Ethan met her eyes, his gaze steady, unfazed by her anger. “I love you. Maybe since I found you sleeping. Maybe even before that, when I first saw you. I don’t know. I don’t know how any of this works. But I know I love you.”
She gasped, relief flooding her like a sunrise. “Ethan, I—”
“I’m not done with my speech.” He pressed a swift kiss to her forehead. “Mara, there is one thing that has been true from the moment I first saw you across a crowd. And that has been that you, Mara, queen of my heart, love Tristan.”
Her words scattered like finches before a hawk.
Ethan smiled, brilliant and pure. “I have never known a Mara who didn’t love Tristan, and that’s okay.
Not just okay. It’s wonderful. Your garden, your soul...
Your love for him is part of you, and that’s the you I fell in love with.
” He heaved a breath, pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles.
“You don’t have to cut him out of your memory for me to love you.
I love you, the Mara I met, the Mara standing before me now. All of you.”
Relief crashed through Mara like a sandstorm, and she could not speak for a long moment. “You love me,” she said at last.
“I know it’s sudden,” he said, taking a step back, though he did not release her hands.
“And I know it’s too soon for you to feel the same way.
But I’ll wait. However long it takes, I’ll wait, and I’ll be yours until you know if I’m the one for you.
Or…or I’ll leave. If you want me to leave, I will. ”
A smile bloomed on her face. “You do not have to wait,” she said. “Or to leave.”
“I don’t?”
“Please, do not go.” Mara stepped forward into his space. “I love you, Ethan. From the very first, you confounded me, irritated me, but you also made me laugh. I told myself I only wanted your body, that it was nothing more, but I was drawn to you like a bee to a flower, and I could not stay away.”
She looked down at their joined hands. “That is why I let my garden go. It was for myself, for my own freedom, but it was also…a message. A message to you. I was prepared to partition my heart, to throw everything away just so you would be mine.”
“You don’t need to do that,” he murmured.
“I won’t.”
He bent and brushed his lips against hers once, twice, a sweet confession, a promise, and then his hands were in her hair and he was kissing her like she was the world. She kissed him back, reveling in the knowledge that he was hers, that she was his.
She was not sure who had conquered whom, but they could argue about it later.
He drew back a bare inch. “Please tell me,” he gasped, “that you had an ulterior motive in getting me alone here in your own private Rivendell.”
“My motives are not ulterior,” she said primly. “They are quite overt. I intend to remove your armor, and your clothing, and make love to you until you admit defeat.”
“That’ll do,” he groaned and kissed her again.