Page 76 of A Tenuous Betrothal
“I haven’t looked away.” She was entranced, studying the shoreline, watching the tiny mass grow larger by the second. “It’s beautiful.”
His smile grew. There was nothing overly beautiful about it yet. But there would be. She would be astounded when she truly saw its beauty. At least, people usually were. Marc himself longed to see Oldenburg from the sea again. In his opinion, the best view of his country came from the water.
“Layton comes out in his ship often. I suspect it is for the view.” He draped an arm across Rhi’s shoulders, almost out of habit, and then tensed and removed his arm. “Apologies.”
She nodded, a great sadness lining her face.
But then Kristoff joined them on her other side and drapedhisarm across her shoulders.
Her face filled with relief. Marc’s cheery brother said something he couldn’t hear, and they both laughed.
Marc clenched his fist.
The longer they watched, the more she laughed and cheered and celebrated—with Kristoff.
Marc wandered off.
Yes, today was an excellent day to begin his new plan to keep his distance from Rhi. He didn’t know how such a thing would not kill him, piece by piece.
The whole crew was full of energy, everyone doing their chores with an extra smile, a longer whistle, and a good amount of liveliness. And all of it made Marc ill.
He returned to his cabin to pack but saw that his valet had already done it for him. He moved to the rear of the ship and watched the sea behind them. Here, he knew he would be alone. Everyone else would be watching the land as they approached.
But then Rhi’s soft figure came to his side. “I’m sorry.”
He turned, not expecting those words. “Why?”
“That this is going to be a trial for you. I shouldn’t have come.”
He looked down at his boots. She was too observant. He’d meant to pretend indifference so well that she would believe his ruse. But instead, she was feeling sorry for the strength of his feelings?
“You should most definitively have come.” He studied her face. This would be the most painful of all conversations. “You deserve every happiness. It was your father’s greatest wish. And you will find it. I won’t keep you back anymore.”
“I just don’t understand.”
“There is nothing to understand.” He braced himself. “I have work to do.”
“Can you not work with someone at your side, if that’s what you desire?”
“I could.” He breathed in, steeling himself. “But I’ve not yet met a woman I desire enough to do so.” The words tore out of him like a knife, wreaking pain everywhere they touched.
And they had their desired effect. She seemed to crumple in front of him, not physically—she remained standing upright—but inside. He had a window through her eyes to all she felt. He knew his words had struck home.
When she turned and left him at the railing without another word, he told himself he’d had to do it. That it was better to pretend only a mild sort of attraction now so she was not hurt worse later.
But, as he considered his life, alone in most things, like he was in that moment at the railing, he wasn’t certain anymore. He wasn’t sure of anything, except two things.
The Vienna Congress must go on. And Napoleon must be stopped at all costs.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Rhi wiped the moisture fromher eyes and made her way back to the front of the ship. Marc was just plain ridiculous. And if he wasn’t going to see what was plain to everyone else, then she wasn’t going to try to make him.
The worst niggling concern that wouldn’t leave was the obvious quandary: He might be telling the truth. He might not care enough.
And she didn’t have a solution.
And it hurt. He didn’t careenough. And that was a good reason for her to curl up in a ball.
