“I know all of this scares you, Amaia. You think I don’t understand, and that’s why I’m asking this of you. You’re wrong. I ask it of you because I know you so well. If we were together without being married, it would doom any chance we had of being happy. You would immediately wonder when I would leave, when I would be done with you. You’re afraid of giving yourself to me because then you’re giving me the power to hurt you. I know. I’m aware. The real issue is not that I’m asking for your hand in marriage. You already know our marriage would be short-lived, no matter what we did. The real issue is that I’m asking for your trust, and you’re not ready to give it to me.”
Those eyes peered into her very soul, if she still held claim to one. They looked at her and into her. How was it possible for one person to articulate with such surety who she was when she had never seen herself so clearly? In all of her existence, she had never felt more naked. How could he object to sex when this was so obviously more intimate?
Amaia shook her head. She couldn’t deal with being known so well by someone who could never be hers. “You have my answer. I’ll not marry you, Michael. If you want me, you’ll have to take me on my terms, the way everyone else does.”
“I’m not everyone else.” His voice hardened.
“I know. You’re not a client, Michael, but you’re also not my husband, and you never will be.”
“Never is a long time. I have hundreds of lives left to try.”
The blood in Amaia’s veins tingled. She didn’t need to judge his energy to know he spoke the truth. This wouldn’t be the last proposal she received from him. “Then I fear you’ll be disappointed hundreds of times over.”
Michael released her arms and stepped away, brushing a hand through his hair the way he did when he was frustrated. “Why can’t you just cooperate for once in your life, Amaia?”
“Why can’t you just take what I’m offering and be content?”
“It’s wrong.”
“Only according to you.”
“According to God.”
“I don’t believe in a god; I don’t play by his rules. I don’t understand how you can when your very existence contradicts him.”
“I have to hold on to my faith, Amaia. Some days it’s all that keeps me going.”
“Well then you don’t need me.”
“Stop.” Michael pushed the words out through gritted teeth, taking hold of her shoulders again and shaking her slightly. “Stop it. You know that’s not true.” He stood there for a moment, looking down at her. Then he shook his head and released her.
“I can only offer you friendship, Michael, nothing more. Let that be enough.”
Crickets chirped as the evening air cooled. In the distance, two birds called to each other. Something splashed in the lake. The only sound that came from Michael was his steady breathing. Her future hinged on what he would say. She wondered if she would have to choose between marrying him and never seeing him again. It was a choice she was unprepared to make.
“All right. I’ll respect your wishes. I hope you won’t let this make you feel uncomfortable around me.” Michael eyed her with concern.
“Uncomfortable? It takes more than declarations of love to make me uncomfortable.” Amaia caressed his arm, hoping to restore his seemingly perpetual jovial mood.
“Good. I wouldn’t want anything to ruin our time together.”
“Nothing could ruin it.” Nothing except the truth.
Chapter 30
Algar, October 1747, 2 months later
“What’s wrong?” Amaia cocked her head at Michael from her perch atop a barrel in his smithy. Their relationship had settled into a solid friendship. As in most things, Michael had honored her wishes. It was almost as if the proposal had never happened. There was no awkwardness, despite Amaia’s fears to the contrary.
Lawrence had befriended Gaspar Casal, a physician in Oviedo, traveling often to study with him and leaving Amaia ample opportunity to visit Michael. She hoped Lawrence would fail in his efforts to establish Casal as the king’s physician in Madrid. The freedom to meet with Michael had spoiled her. She could watch him work every day and never tire of it.
“Huh?”
“You’ve banged that piece of metal into oblivion. It’s not like you to be distracted when you’re working.”
“Oh, it’s nothing.” Michael threw the horseshoe he had been bludgeoning into the cooling bucket and left it there.
“Don’t give me that. I thought we were friends. Tell me what’s wrong.” Amaia hopped down and brought him a cup of water.
Michael wiped the sweat from his forehead and took the proffered cup. There was a black smudge under his eye that Amaia couldn’t help finding attractive. She wanted to wipe it away with her thumb, but she was trying to avoid physical contact. It did nothing good for her to feel his skin beneath hers when they were only friends.
“A man visited me yesterday, says this place is his.”
“What?” Amaia immediately felt defensive.
“Yeah, says it belongs to his family, that the man who sold it to me had no right to. Something about a fraudulent will. He threatened to take the matter up with the law if I won’t surrender it to him.”
“But the law’s on your side.”
“Hmph. He’s connected at court. I’m not dealing with a simple farmer here. I also got the distinct impression that even if the law doesn’t rule in his favor, he’ll simply take it by force.”
“What was his name?”