“Well, she won’t throw you if you’re riding with me. What do you say?”
Amaia shook her head. “Not today. Maybe another time.”
“You’re not scared, are you?”
“Of course not. Scared of what? A silly horse?”
“Well then, come on.” Michael swung up into the saddle in one fluid motion and reached down his hand in her direction.
Amaia took it and settled in behind him. If the horse threw her, or, more accurately, Michael, she would break its neck.
Neither of them spoke during the ride. Amaia rested her cheek against Michael’s back. The closeness was comforting, right. Amaia wished she could stay curled around him forever.
When they reached the lake, they took off their shoes and stockings to wade in the cool water.
“I would like you to be my wife.” Michael said it so simply, as if it was as common a phrase as “good day.”
Amaia halted and momentarily forgot to breathe. Her thoughts whirled. She didn’t know if the idea of marriage terrified her or excited her. Regardless, the idea was too far-fetched to give any serious thought. “What?”
“Don’t look so shocked. I proposed to you once before. Why not in this life? We’re the same people. I still want you. You already have a ring, and you don’t know how it warms my heart that you still wear it. I have no idea how you’ve kept it or why you always look the same. I’ve respected your request and not asked about it because I don’t care. All I care about is being with you.” He fingered the ring he had given her over a century ago.
His face was so open and full of hope. Amaia hated to crush it, but she had no choice. “Michael, we can’t.” She pulled her hand away.
“Why not?” His eyes stayed on her.
“Because it isn’t right. You don’t even know anything about my life. I’m not the type of girl you should marry.”
“I beg to differ.” He said it with such confidence.
“You can beg all you want; it doesn’t change anything.”
“I’m going to die.” The shine in his eyes dimmed, the gray depths taking on the serious hue they often held in her hauntings.
“Everyone dies.”
“Yes, but I’m going to die young.”
Amaia stayed silent. It was futile to contradict him, and it seemed acknowledging him would only add fuel to his fire.
“I want to be with you.” Michael grabbed her hands. “If I’m going to die soon, I want to be married to you first. Why can’t you give me this?”
Amaia backed away, out of his reach. “You’re going to die, that’s why I can’t. I won’t tie you down during the time you have left.”
Michael stepped forward and held her shoulders in his firm grip, anchoring her, acting as her rock, forcing her to see reason. “That’s the craziest thing I’ve heard, Amaia, and I’m the man who remembers living multiple lives before this one.”
Amaia chuckled uneasily. “It’s not crazy. We shouldn’t marry just because you’re going to die.”
“Yes, we should. I’ve told you that I remember everything. In all those memories, there’s not one of us being together. We’ve never been husband and wife. Why not do it now?”
Amaia averted her eyes, but it was no use. He wasn’t going to let her escape. Part of her loved him for it. “I’m not going to pretend to be something I’m not. If you want sex, we can do it without getting married.”
Michael’s mouth twisted, as if he tasted something sour, even as the rest of his face stayed resolutely firm. “I won’t dishonor you like that.”
“You know what I did for a living. I do it still. That hasn’t changed, Michael. I’m no virgin.”
“I know the realities, Amaia. But it’s dishonorable for me to have sex with you as if I’m another of your clients. I’m not. I don’t want to be. I want to be your husband, to take care of you, to love you, to share every minute I have left with you. I want all of you, not just your body.”
That was the root of the problem. It scared Amaia to the core of her being. It always had. She couldn’t let someone else possess her. Independence had been hard-won in her mortal life, and was more valuable than any jewel, even now.