Chapter Twenty #2
With that, she stormed past him so quickly Montague did not even have time to grab the hand of the woman he loved.
‘Oh dear.’
Montague looked down. John was standing beside him, a serious expression on the little boy’s face. ‘Oh dear?’
The boy nodded. ‘That did not go well.’
Resisting the instinct to agree with him, Montague instead said, ‘Mrs Gower—Aunt Louise is over there—stay with her, will you?’
He did not wait for the boy’s reply. At the sound of her name, Mrs Gower had turned and Montague considered that sufficient planning to ensure his ward, his son, was adequately cared for.
He needed Calliope.
It only took a few strides to reach the door and when Montague stepped through it, he couldn’t see her. She was gone, how he did not know. His pulse pounded and he could not believe he had lost—
There.
The hem of her skirt had been momentarily visible as Calliope had turned the corner. Montague started forward, desperate to catch up with her.
He needed her. And if she didn’t need him…well, that would be something he would have to live with.
But he had to apologise, he had to make it—
‘Calliope,’ Montague said in half astonishment.
He had hastened after her so rapidly on the assumption that Calliope had been running from him, but as he stepped into the alley where she had disappeared, it was to find her standing right there, leaning against the wall.
She was breathing very deeply and very rapidly. ‘How could you! Those are my private—my personal—’
‘I wanted to give you what you always—I wanted to show you how sorry I am,’ Montague said rapidly, hoping beyond hope she would let him explain. ‘I thought—’
‘You thought only about yourself!’
Hell and high water. ‘I should never have let you think you were just a vessel, a placeholder. You are the most perfect, the most incredible—’
‘I don’t want to hear it,’ snapped Calliope, her voice thick.
But she did, he could see that. The hurt in her eyes was paired only with desperate need to be seen.
To be loved.
‘All I see in this world is you,’ Montague said quietly. ‘The moment I first saw you—’
‘Montague—’
‘The moment I first saw you, I saw you,’ he persevered, desperate to be close to her but afraid she would bolt if he touched her. ‘I saw brilliance and fire, artistry and passion, and kindness. Kindness, Calliope. Kindness in a world where you have always been passed over and ignored.’
There were tears now sparkling in her eyes, but Calliope said nothing.
‘I never want you to be ignored again. I thought— Your paintings, the world deserves to see you as you are. The exquisite artist you are.’ Montague swallowed. ‘But I’m too selfish to share all of you. I want you as my wife, Calliope. As my companion, my joy, my lover, my better self.’
‘I can’t—’
‘And I don’t demand your forgiveness,’ he said hurriedly, knowing his chances of explaining were fast running out.
‘I don’t deserve that. All I ask is that you let me try to show you, day after day, week after week, year after year, that I am never going to leave you.
I’m never going to find something better, or seek an adventure elsewhere. Calliope, you are my best adventure.’
Silence.
He had not expected a dramatic response to his declaration, but truth be told, he had expected…something.
Calliope’s jaw tightened, but she said nothing.
‘Calliope,’ Montague said quietly, reaching out a hesitant hand.
He had intended only to touch her shoulder, to reassure her she was not alone in this moment of apparent panic. What he had not intended, but sincerely rejoiced in, was the way Calliope threw herself into his arms and tightly wove her hands around his neck.
‘You are a complete dolt,’ came her muffled words as she spoke into his shoulder.
Montague groaned with the relief of holding her.
This was his woman. His Calliope. His artist, his irritant—or at least, he was hers.
This was where she belonged, where she should have been from the very beginning. And unless she wanted to walk out of them, his arms would always hold her.
Always.
‘I am so, so sorry,’ Montague said quietly, half wishing he could see her face as he said this. ‘I was wrong to ever write to my sister like that, whether you and I had ever met—’
‘You are a rogue.’
He was. ‘More than you can ever know. Oh, Calliope, all of this, everything I’ve done since I’ve met you, has been to show me, show you, show the world you are truly an artist to be admired.
God, the fact you have gone through your life without truly being cherished… I vow to never let that happen again.’
Calliope pulled back, but seemingly only to glare at him. ‘You are a fool.’
‘That I am. And it was foolish of me to think I could spend any amount of time in your presence and not feel…’ Montague swallowed. ‘Everything. Everything I had never thought I would feel. Wanting to be everything I thought I could not be. You have made me confront myself—’
He was forced to cut off what had almost been a rather fine speech as Calliope launched herself into his arms again.
‘You are an idiot.’