Page 109 of Dearest Beast
“You’re really going to deny that it was more than that?” he asked, now a touch frustrated. Because it was obvious. No matter what words they used, their intimacy—their compatibility—extended farbeyond the bounds of the physical. There was no one who fit either of them better.
Except, apparently, she was not ready or willing to see.
“It wasn’t,” she argued back. “You were the host, and I was your guest, and we had an amicable relationship in those roles, but now it’s over.”
“Why does it need to be?” he asked, urging her to see the logic.
“Because it does,” she yelled back, waving her arms. “This was temporary. Don’t you see?”
“No, I don’t,” he said, squinting at her.
Faced flushed, she took an audible breath. “Marriage is not temporary,” she told him. As if he didn’t know. “Flaws and foibles are amusing when they shall end, but to live with them day after day after day after day…”
“Are you speaking of mine or yours? If you’re referring to mine, I promise you, I’m quite aware of them but am working efficiently on improving. If you’re referring to your own, I’d be honored to wake up to yours daily.” He was becoming a touch annoyed now. How could she not see? How could she not understand that she was all he wanted, all he needed, and no life could better than one with her, exactly the way she was.
“Provided there aren’t too many pillows thrown at my head. My aging reflexes are not what they once were,” he added with a small smile, silently begging her to return the gesture.
“That’s not amusing,” she sniffed instead. “None of this is.”
“On that we agree, as I’m not amused either. You’re being illogical,” he retorted. “Do you truly believe I don’t know and want the real you and to be part of the real life you lead?” he said, his voice rising as well.
“The life I lead, the life you’re describing, where you spend your time teaching the children and—”
“Making sure you have everything you need to help your patients, yes,” he continued. “While participating in the community and my own study.”
“That might seem enough for you now,” she countered, wagging a finger at him. “But you will miss the rest, including the respect and attention.”
“Doubtful. And even if it wasn’t, I’ll take my chances, as I wouldn’t miss it half as much as I’d miss you. You bring me joy. No matter what we’re doing.” He understood that now. The fanciest dinner party had nothing on a breakfast with her and the children. Besides, there would be dinner parties forever, but there were only so many years where he could experience the latter. “I’m six and thirty. While not in the grave, I’m old enough to know my own mind. Even if I denied it in favor of what I thought I should want for far too many years,” he explained. “I’m done with that now. Done with everything except my children, my books, my roses, perhaps a little Talmud, and you.”
Except the frustrating woman was not having it.
“Ha,” she snapped. “You say that now, but does your own mind seek the gossip and judgment that our arrangement will engender?” she asked. “It won’t be kind. While I’ve experienced that already, you’re used to adoration, so it—”
“Do you believe that I’m so weak I couldn’t shoulder a few opinions?” he asked. “Or do you believe I’m so foolish that I can’t decipher the worthless from the wise? Yes, I’ve been culled by fear in the past, but not anymore and never again.” He might have been yelling now too. “Not after these weeks. I’m clever enough to know the value of what I seek. And if I lose a few invitations to events that I don’t really enjoy or have to ignore whispers of idiots, then it’s a small price to pay. My ancestors risked death to light candles, damnit. We’re worth at least that.” How could she not see? Not understand? They could be extraordinary together.
“You’re upset,” she told him, her voice now irritatingly calm. “I understand you’re apprehensive. Marrying again is a great undertaking, and now that it’s become real, you’re frightened.”
“I’m not frightened of marriage, Rebecca.” He glared at her. This was… well, not the way he’d expected this to go. Not at all. He was saying it right, damn. And he was right. She was clever and he was brave, and this should not be happening.
“Of course not,” she placated. If her tone was meant to be soothing, she needed to reassess, as it was grating on his last nerve. “Which is why you should really take more time to consider Miss Teres before you throw away this opport—”
“I don’t need more time,” he interrupted. “I’m in awe of you, Rebecca.”
“You’re confused.” She threw up her hands.
“I’m most certainly not,” he snapped. “For the first time in my life, I know what I want, and when you know, you don’t want to wait,” he explained. “I love you, Rebecca. The life I know we can build together will be spectacular. Please, let’s live it together,” he begged.
“I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “I can’t. You’re made for marriage, but I’m not.” She turned away from him, squaring her shoulders.
“Rebecca,” he whispered, reaching out toward her.
“I’m sorry,” she repeated, her voice slightly strangled, the sound tearing at something inside him. “I’m not for you.”
For a moment Roger stood there, a thousand thoughts and words and arguments swirling in his head. There had to be one that could make the difference. But there were none. Sometimes, no matter what you did, not every bud bloomed.
After a sleepless night and fretful morning debating ways to change matters and finding none, Roger poked his head into the hallway and found his house abuzz with activity.
Trunks, including the one whose mere presence made him smile—at both the memory of Rebecca attempting to carry it down the staircase and of what he learned was inside—as well as, oddly enough, ache, were being packed and carried to the front entry, with his coach taking trips back and forth from Mitre almost every hour.
