Star's Crossing

35: A Coward and a Selfish Man

She could not help herself.

"Excuse me." Mare rose and Teddy in gentlemanly response, and she forced a smile. "I cannot in good conscience sit idly by while the dogwoods are in bloom."

"Mare," said Meredith, smiling as she sipped her brandy. "This is no place to uplift propriety at the expense of the flowers."

Alison reclined in her chair, the sun upon her face. "Go, Mare. Do not refrain on our account."

Mare inclined her head, then hurried from the small table. They'd set it upon a cliff near the woods, and she was a few mere steps from the cool, shadowed embrace of the trees. Sea grass hushed against her skirts as she descended the hill and ducked beneath the burs and dogwoods, the forest floor carpeted with fallen petals like snow.

She was scarcely out of sight when she leaned against a gnarled trunk and sank into the grass, breaking the seal and lifting the letter hungrily to her eyes.

Old friend...

Mare took a breath. It felt like the first she'd taken in weeks. It felt like living. Reading his words felt nearly as good as writing her own.

An odd turn of events these weeks. If, at the end of this endless courting circus, I find your hand in mine, it will all have been worth it. The games tire me, however. If the choice were mine alone and propriety a thing of other times and lives, I'd spirit you away and marry you in secret.

Mare stifled a gasp, touching her lips. Her chest swelled like a sail catching full wind.

Marriage? Camden had hardly spoken the word since they'd revealed their identities. Now he wished for elopement? For ruin?

Alas, we are pawns on another player's board. For now, at least. I will find it in me to convince my father you are more suitable a match than any. Though I scarce speak these words in person, do know that I think them.

The truth is that I am a coward, Mare, and a selfish man. You deserve better. You deserve best.

But if what you desire is me, then make your peace. I will come for you. I will find a way.

Mare's heart ached as she traced his farewell, his name absent from the page, replaced with that first letter's promise: Yours. Simple. True.

Was it?

Mare bit her lip. His words were so familiar, daring and bright in their conviction. He was there, in this letter. Camden Doores was her writer. And he was going to marry her.

Why, then, was Mare filled with unease? What was it in the traces of ink that hollowed her, that ushered wind between her bones? What was it that did not feel right?

"Does he hold up?"

Mare gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth. Teddy had quietly appeared in the dogwoods, and when the wind blew, petals fell in scattered drifts and caught in his hair and on his shoulders. He'd left his jacket at the table, embracing the warmth of the day in a white shirt, the sleeves rolled to the elbows, suspenders tight on his lean shoulders. He had his hands in his pockets, and without a hat, his curls were wild and unruly.

"You shouldn't have followed me here," Mare muttered. She began to rise, and Teddy held up a hand.

"Don't get up on my account." He hesitated, as though he considered continuing on the path and was unsure if he wanted to stay. "I was sent. Meredith has gone in and Alison is strolling the beach. I wanted to make sure you hadn't nabbed a horse and gone off to the west."