Page 38 of A Captain For Clarissa
Clarissa took a deep breath, as if steeling herself. “Have I done something to offend you?” she asked bluntly.
Rafael blinked, taken aback by her directness. “No,” he said quickly. “No, of course not.”
“Then why have you been avoiding me?” Clarissa pressed, her eyes searching his face. “Ever since Mr. Dalton and the Conte arrived, you’ve barely spoken to me. You’ve been distant and cold. I don’t understand.”
Rafael looked away, unable to hold her gaze. How could he explain the tangled web of emotions that had been plaguing him? The fear, the insecurity, the bone-deep longing that he could never seem to escape?
“I’ve been busy,” he said lamely, the excuse sounding hollow even to his own ears. “My duties...”
“Don’t lie to me, Rafael,” Clarissa interrupted, her voice sharp. “I know there’s more to it than that.”
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “What do you want me to say, Clarissa?”
“The truth,” she said simply. “I want the truth.”
Rafael closed his eyes, his jaw clenching. The truth. The one thing he couldn’t give her. Because the truth was that he was in love with her, desperately and irrevocably. And the truth was that he wasn’t worthy of her, could never be worthy of her.
But as he stood there, feeling the weight of her gaze upon him, he knew he couldn’t keep running from this. From her.
“The truth,” he said slowly, opening his eyes to gaze on her beautiful face, etched with determination as she confronted him, “is that I...”
Rafael’s voice trailed off as he struggled to find the words. He turned away from Clarissa, his gaze falling upon the sun-drenched vineyards that stretched out before them. The golden light seemed to mock him, a reminder of all the warmth and beauty he couldn’t possess.
“I cannot compete with them,” he said at last, his voice low and rough. “The Conte, with his title and his wealth. And Dalton, with his respectable English upbringing and his history with your family. They can offer you so much more than I ever could.”
Clarissa stepped closer, her brow furrowed in confusion. “Rafael, what are you talking about? I don’t care about titles or wealth. I care about you.”
He shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “You shouldn’t. You deserve so much more than a penniless Portuguese captain with a crumbling castle and a failing vineyard.”
“Stop it,” Clarissa said fiercely, her hand coming up to grip his arm. “Stop talking about yourself like that. You are the most honourable, brave, and kind man I have ever known. Your circumstances do not define you.”
Rafael looked down at her, his heart aching at the sincerity in her eyes. He wanted so badly to believe her, to let himself hope that maybe, just maybe, she could love him as he loved her.
But the doubts still lingered, the insecurities that had been bred into him over years of struggle and hardship. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he would never be enough for her, that she would eventually realise the truth and leave him behind.
“Clarissa,” he said softly, his hand coming up to cup her cheek. “I...”
“Brother!” Isabella’s voice rang out across the vineyard, startling them both. Rafael stepped back, the moment broken.
Isabella hurried towards them, her face flushed with excitement. “There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
She took in the tension between them, her smile faltering slightly. “Am I interrupting something?”
“No,” Rafael said quickly, forcing a smile. “Not at all. What is it, Isabella?”
As his sister began to chatter about some new idea she had for the vineyard, Rafael couldn’t help but steal a glance atClarissa. She was watching him, her eyes filled with a mixture of confusion and hurt.
He looked away, his heart heavy. He knew he couldn’t keep running from this forever. Sooner or later, he would have to face the truth of his feelings for her.
But for now, he would do what he always did. He would bury his emotions, focus on his duties, and try to ignore the ache in his chest that only seemed to grow with each passing day.
Chapter Fourteen
Rafael clenched his jaw,quelling the urge to snap at Isabella for her untimely interruption. Just as the perfect words had begun to take shape on his tongue, the delicate balance of the moment shattered like fine crystal.
He drew a steadying breath, willing his frustration to ebb away. It would not do to let his sister see him so vexed. With an effort, he turned to face her, a tight smile plastered across his face. “Yes, Isabella? What is it?”
She clutched at his arm, her dark eyes alight with barely contained excitement. “Oh Rafael, I’ve had the most wonderful idea!” Her voice was breathy, the words tumbling out in an eager rush.
