She was speaking of a future in which they were married in truth. Playing happy families, and spending time with his brothers and their wives.
"After the last month," he said, instead, "I was hoping to have some time away from the others once this is all done." If it was done. If they all survived.
Cleo glanced up from beneath her lashes. "Others? Or Bishop?"
He sighed, and scuffed the back of his hair. "It's been an intense month."
"He wants to teach you."
"He wants to use me to get his—our—father back." Sebastian circled the garden, suddenly impatient. "I know you want a family, Cleo, but I don't want you to expect too much. Lord and Lady Rathbourne haven't forgiven me, not entirely, though they're polite enough, and I'm sure Verity and Bishop will be relieved to have their house to themselves again."
She seated herself patiently on the stone bench. "I'm not quite certain which one of us you're trying to convince."
He looked at her sharply.
"It seems your shield isn't quite as impermeable as you'd like to believe," she pointed out, and he tested it immediately. Cleo smiled a little sadly, as if she'd expected it. "Your emotions have been trickling through tonight, though I think I'm more in tune with them than you are."
Sebastian stared at her. "What do you mean?"
"If you expect the worst, then you can't ever be disappointed, can you?"
His nostrils flared. Devil take her. "I'm not the one lost in dreams that will never happen," he said sharply. "You don't know the world. You've been sheltered and locked away, and say what you will about your father, but he kept you protected, Cleo. You might have seen horrible things in your Visions, but you've never lived them."
What else had she sensed through their bond? What would she say if she knew about his ticket to Manhattan? He looked away. Tell her.
But he didn't.
It.... It wasn't the right time.
And he wasn't entirely certain if he'd made that decision. The ticket represented a possibility.
A choice, when he'd had so few of them.
Cleo took an uneasy breath. "Is it wrong to want to live in hope? Is it wrong to trust, and believe that things can be better? That there is a home here for me? For us?"
"Us?" he said hoarsely.
And their eyes met.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. More than she could ever know. He squeezed his eyes shut. I can't give you what you want. I know that. "We come from two different worlds."
She turned away, her face stricken for a moment. And he felt like the lowest bastard who ever walked the earth.
The cool air made her shiver. Sebastian dragged his coat off, and slid it around her shoulders, his hands resting there.
Cleo looked up in surprise.
"It seems I'm not the only one who's having trouble keeping their emotions to themselves," he murmured. "I never wanted to hurt you."
"I brought you here because I thought you'd like the roses." Her eyes suddenly glimmered, and she blinked a visible tear away. "I just wanted to make you happy."
He drew her into his arms, his hand cradling the base of her skull. "You do."
And it was a shock to realize the words were true. He drew back and gazed down into her face. "It is beautiful. And thank you. For bringing me here, and for... trying." His mouth twisted. "I ruin everything."
"I should have known better. She hurt you, and you weren't in the right mood—"
"That's not an excuse."