Chapter 18 #2
Marie racked her brain for something to impress Charles, but with every idea, she fell short.
Playacting before her parents, racing across the countryside on foot when she was a child, climbing to the top of a tree when she was a young woman—all of them seemed so very lackluster compared to his house-hopping and grand-touring.
Charles remained silent as she continued thinking, though a smile lingered on his lips as he watched her expectantly.
“Well,” she began, finally settling on one, though she still wasn’t impressed with the memory herself, “I once ran away from home—just for the day, mind—so that I might attend a festival at harvest time. Mother and Father found it too base, but I wished to attend, so I snuck out in the morning and danced and played and ate all day.” She ended with a shrug. “That was exciting to me.”
She braved a glance at Charles and was relieved to find complete joy written across his features.
“I did the very same when I was a boy,” he said, his eyes bright. “Tristan pretended to be me so I could escape flute lessons at home. To this day it remains one of my fondest memories, that festival.”
Marie gleamed.
The advertisement she’d seen in the village crossed her mind again, and her smile grew as an idea was planted in her thoughts.
In the next moment, however, thunder rumbled directly above, and Marie looked up, stunned to see the storm clouds she’d been fretting about before, now directly upon them.
“Nearly certain we wouldn’t be caught in it?” she asked. “Isn’t that what you said?”
He grinned sheepishly. “Well, think of it this way. You shall now have another adventure to add to your list.”
She looked at him with suspicion as the first drop fell. “Was this your plan all along?”
“As if I plan that far ahead,” he said with a laugh. Another drop fell, then another. “Worry not, we will be home before it falls too hard.”
And yet, in the next moment, the clouds opened, and water poured forth from seemingly every inch of the skies above.
“Or not,” he said, wincing as the rain pelted against them.
“Now what?” she asked, her voice raised to be heard above the sheets of rain.
She lifted a hand, though it did even less than her bonnet in shielding her face from the droplets.
“Now we make a run for it,” he said.
The look of excitement across his features caused her to laugh despite herself. He clasped her hand with his and barreled down the lane, his pace steady for her to keep up as she raised her skirts and ran alongside him.
“Are you well?” he called out over his shoulder.
Getting caught in the rain with Mother had always been a chore—listening to her complaints and fears of catching a cold. But getting caught in the rain with Charles?
Marie smiled. “Never better!”
The look he gave her was worth all the discomfort in the world.
Within just a few minutes, they arrived at the cottage, clambering beneath the small awning and the shelter it provided.
They stood side-by-side, catching their breath and staring out at the rain. Charles removed his gloves, then hat, running his fingers through his mostly dry hair with another chuckle.
“That was an adventure.” He peered down the length of her. “You are even wetter than you were from the fountain.”
She laughed, feeling not one ounce of shame over her appearance, for Charles’s look of approval was apparent.
“I’m certain this isn’t helping my case for getting you to enjoy being out of doors,” he said.
But Marie shrugged. “I’m beginning to learn that one’s enjoyment of matters is entirely dependent upon one’s company.”
A smile passed between them, though she ended it prematurely to remove her bonnet. “Although, you do know I shall now never trust your weather predictions. Nor you personally, should we ever again be within close proximity to a fountain.”
“There you go again,” he said, watching her every movement, “blaming me for our little dip in the fountain when it was more your fault than anyone’s.
” He gave a shake of his head. “It is a wonder you trusted me enough to get you back to Grendale safely. I thought for certain you would have left me for your parents that night.”
“I made a vow, Charles. A simple fountain mishap and argument was not going to change that.”
He sobered, and only then did she realize what her words had insinuated.
“Until...until we know what comes of the annulment,” she managed.
“Of course.”
His eyes searched hers, his brow soft. “I think of that night often.”
Rain clicked upon the stone pathway leading to the house, and droplets bounced from the pink and red rose petals beside them. The world was cloaked in a gentle, muted grey, but the space around Marie and Charles glowed brightly.
“You mean the night of the ball?” she asked, her eyes fixed on him.
“The ball...and the gardens afterward.”
She swallowed. “An argument like that is hard to forget.”
A spare drop of rain ran down his temple. “I wasn’t thinking of the argument.”
“What, then?”
“Can you truly not know?”
Of course she knew, for she had thought of their kiss a hundred times over.
That kiss had been filled with anger and frustration. With disappointed hopes and dreams. And yet, her desire for Charles had yet to be silenced, and the stirring in her heart to be close to him had never been satiated.
Even now, as his eyes centered on her lips, heat burst within her, for she could feel his own longing as well—that pull, that craving to experience just one more moment of affection.
But this time, if they did kiss, it would not be filled with anger. This time, the kiss would be shared between two people who had drawn closer to each other...but who had promised to keep away.
He drew a step closer, and her eyes threatened to flutter closed, but she had to keep her wits about her. “Charles...”
“Tell me you have not thought of that moment yourself,” he whispered, ignoring her weak attempt at protest.
Marie fought off her response for as long as she could, but it was to no avail. “I have. I do.”
“And do you regret the moment we shared?”
She raised her chin, an invisible force pulling her toward him. “I do not. Do you?”
“How could I? It is all I have thought of since. I have never experienced a kiss like that one.”
“Due to my anger?”
He quirked a smile. “Due to what awakened within me.”
“And what was that?”
She should not be encouraging him. They had made the promise to keep away from each other. But then, what if he no longer wished to pursue the annulment? What if...what if he was falling in love with her?
Her head began to spin as he leaned toward her.
“What awakened within me was the desire to see what a true kiss might feel like between us. One where both of us give it freely.”
Oh, how she wanted to experience the very same.
But one of them had to be the voice of reason. “What of the annulment? If we continue on this path, we may end up with a life neither of us has chosen.”
He stared down at her. “What if it is a life we both choose?”
What was he saying—that he wanted to give their marriage a chance?
She already knew that was what she wanted.
They’d experienced more in their mere week of knowing one another than most couples did in a lifetime—quarrels and kisses.
Tears and apologies. Friendship and forgiveness.
Dare she hope he might want to pursue a relationship with her where joy and love might be discovered in the end?
With a deep breath, she nodded. “What if it is,” she stated without question.
That was all Charles needed, for in the next moment, he leaned toward her, and Marie closed her eyes, waiting for his kiss to once again be hers.