Page 37 of A Captain For Clarissa
Marianne smiled knowingly. “Men can be foolish creatures, my dear. They often let their pride and insecurities cloud their judgement, and jealousy is the very worst of emotions - as Alex could tell you.” She reached out and squeezed Clarissa’s hand. “If you want answers, you must seek them out yourself.”
Clarissa took a deep breath, her resolve hardening. Marianne was right. She couldn’t sit idly by, waiting for Rafael to come to her. She had to take action.
Rising to her feet, Clarissa smoothed her skirts and squared her shoulders. “I’m going to find him,” she declared. “I’m going to ask him directly if I’ve done something to offend him.”
Marianne nodded approvingly. “Good. Don’t let him evade the question. Demand the truth.”
With a grateful smile, Clarissa set off in search of Rafael, her heart pounding with a mixture of anticipation and dread. One way or another, she would have her answer.
Rafael stormed into the stables, his mind a tempest of conflicting emotions. The sight of Clarissa with those two men, the easy way she smiled at them, the sparkle in her eyes... it was more than he could bear.
He saddled his horse with jerky, aggressive movements, his jaw clenched tight. He needed to get away, to clear his head. To figure out what in God’s name he was going to do about these feelings that threatened to consume him.
“Running away again, my son?”
Rafael spun around to see Lucia leaning against the stable door, her arms crossed and a knowing look on her face.
“I’m not running away,” he snapped. “I have work to do.”
Lucia raised an eyebrow. “Work that conveniently takes you far away from a certain English lady and her suitors?”
Rafael’s hands stilled on the saddle. That was the crux of it, wasn’t it? What could he, a penniless Portuguese nobleman with a crumbling castle and a neglected vineyard, offer a woman likeClarissa? Better to keep his distance, leave her free to make her choice between the two suitors who could offer her a life she deserved.
“I don’t...” He swallowed hard. “I don’t have a chance. That’s why I need to stay away.”
Lucia’s eyes softened. “Oh, Rafael. Don’t you see? She cares for you. Anyone with eyes can see it.”
Rafael shook his head. “She deserves better than me, Mamma. Better than this life.”
“And what about what she wants?” Lucia asked gently. “Have you even asked her?”
Rafael looked away, his jaw working. No, he hadn’t asked her. He’d been too afraid of the answer.
“Pride is a funny thing, dear one,” Lucia said. “It can make us do foolish things. Like push away the people we love because we don’t think we’re good enough for them.”
Rafael’s eyes snapped back to hers. “I don’t...”
“Don’t you?” Lucia smiled. “Don’t let your pride ruin this, Rafael. Talk to her. Tell her how you feel. Before it’s too late.”
With that, Lucia turned and walked out of the stables, leaving Rafael alone with his thoughts. He leaned his forehead against his horse’s neck, closing his eyes.
Could his mother be right? Could Clarissa truly care for him, despite everything? The thought made his heart race and his palms sweat.
But the alternative... the thought of losing her, of watching her fall in love with someone else... that was unbearable.
Rafael sighed and pulled his saddle off, patting his horse’s neck in apology before stowing the tack and leaving the stable. No more running away. His decision was made. He would talk to Clarissa. He would lay his heart at her feet and pray that she would accept it.
And if she didn’t... well, at least he would know he had tried.
He knew he had been avoiding Clarissa, knew that his behaviour was causing her pain. But he couldn’t seem to help himself. Every time he saw her with Dalton or the Conte, laughing at their jokes or listening intently to their stories, a bitter jealousy rose up within him, threatening to choke him.
How could he compete with them? With their wealth and titles and easy charm? He was just a lowly sea captain, struggling to keep his family’s estate afloat. What could he possibly offer a woman like Clarissa? A crumbling estate and an uncertain future? The Conte was rich and titled, Dalton an English aristocrat; either would surely be far more acceptable as a suitor than he.
The sound of footsteps behind him pulled him from his thoughts. He turned to see Clarissa herself approaching, her expression determined.
“Rafael,” she said, coming to a stop before him. “I need to speak with you.”
He swallowed hard, his heart racing at her proximity. “Of course,” he managed, his voice rough. “What is it?”
