Page 32

THEN:

"Marcus, might I steal you away for a moment?" Victoria's voice was soft yet carried an undertone that brooked no refusal. It was just before dinner in the main house when Marcus had gone outside for a breath of fresh air. Isla was still helping her aunt unpack, and he was eagerly waiting for her. She was different somehow than she had been before the summer when they had met up for Easter in the Hamptons, and it worried him. She had spent the first few weeks with Javier, her best friend, and he could see the affection glowing in her eyes as she spoke about him and the fun they’d had. Marcus was no fool and could sense that something was going on.

Victoria gestured toward a narrow path leading away from the main house, its white stone facade glinting in the late afternoon sun.

Marcus nodded, his gaze briefly meeting hers before scanning the expanse of the ocean behind her.

“Of course, Mrs. Walton. Lead the way," he said, his voice a deep rumble.

The path to the cliffside was framed by wildflowers and tall grasses that swayed in the ocean breeze. The sound of waves crashing against jagged rocks grew louder with each step they took, promising privacy that the estate's manicured lawns could not.

Victoria began without preamble as they walked side by side, her eyes fixed on the horizon.

“What’s going on, Mrs. Walton?”

"Isla is at a crossroads," she said, her tone even as if discussing something as trivial as the weather. "She needs the kind of stability only certain… traditions can offer."

Her words floated over the sound of the surf, a melody that sought to soothe, though Marcus knew better than to be lulled. He felt the undercurrents of her intentions, as familiar to him as the signs of an impending squall.

"There are certain things in life. Let’s call them… tradition. Tradition anchors us," Victoria continued, her hands clasped behind her back. "It gives us a sense of belonging and order."

The breeze caught strands of her hair, whipping them around her face like golden tendrils, but she seemed unfazed, her focus unbroken.

Marcus stepped over a gnarled root that snaked across the path, his boots finding purchase on the uneven ground. He kept his gaze directed outward, at the sharp line of the horizon.

"Your dedication to this family has never gone unnoticed, Marcus. Aligning with us… through marriage would be… beneficial."

Each word was measured, plucked from the air like navigational coordinates meant to guide him to a predetermined destination.

Marcus felt the weight of her gaze upon him, seeking to gauge his response. But he offered none. His loyalty lay with Isla, yet he listened with interest. He loved Isla more than anything or anyone.

"Such a union would ensure prosperity, not just for you, but for Isla as well," Victoria continued, her voice carrying a note of persuasion that sought to cloak the steel beneath. "You have been a steadfast element in her life for years. It's only fitting that you should be rewarded."

The word “rewarded” struck him with the subtlety of a squall. It reeked of transactions and deals—negotiations where the heart had no say. Marcus knew the depths to which the Waltons would dive to maintain their stature and how seamlessly they navigated the currents of power and influence.

“She is, after all, in direct line to inherit the entire fortune, my family fortune, that she will one day share with her brother Mark. That’s something to consider as well. You would be set for life, Marcus. It has to count for something, especially… given your background.”

His silence remained unbroken. The decision she asked of him was significant, his role crucial. Yet the ocean whispered warnings to him, urging caution against the undertow of Victoria's words. Duty and honor were his guiding stars, but they did not blind him to the potential cost of being caught in the Waltons’ riptide.

Marcus placed his hands behind his back. "I do love Isla and remain loyal to her," he said, his voice low and resonant. "That has not changed."

"Of course," Victoria replied, her eyes gleaming with a mix of admiration and calculation. "Your loyalty has never been in question."

A gull cried overhead, slicing through the tension as Marcus nodded tersely. "What's best for her is always at the forefront of my mind." His words were carefully chosen stones, creating a path that steered clear of outright acceptance or denial.

Victoria's lips curved into a smile, though it did not reach her eyes. She turned, gesturing toward the expanse of water that shimmered under the dying light. "Imagine it, Marcus. A future where you stand alongside Isla, hand in hand, lords of this island. Your children would run along these very cliffs, heirs to a legacy built on strength and unity."

Marcus's gaze followed her outstretched arm, taking in the rugged beauty of the landscape. The vision she painted was compelling—a tapestry of tradition and security woven with expert craftsmanship. Yet, it felt like an oil painting, remarkable to behold but lacking the true texture of life.

“But I don’t know if this is what is best for Isla.”

Victoria's expression faltered for a moment before she regained control, her desperation now almost visible.

"Think of the stability you'd provide for Isla. She admires and respects you. You'd be unstoppable together—a beacon of hope and progress for the entire estate."

He glanced at her, aware of the truth in her words, yet also of the unseen shoals that lurked beneath their surface.

"Maybe, but is that enough for her?" Marcus responded, his tone even. “Don’t get me wrong; there’s nothing I desire more than to marry her one day. But why the rush?”

Marcus turned to face Victoria. He was only a year older than Isla, and they were both still so young that it almost seemed criminal to discuss marriage.

“Rush? There is no rush. Just a mere concern for my daughter’s future,” she said. “I would like to know that she’s in good hands. Taken care of. I’m not talking about marriage right away… but in the near future.”

"Victoria," he began, his voice echoing the grave depth of the waters below, "I can't help but wonder. Is this course we're charting truly for Isla's benefit?"

Victoria waved away his concern with dismissive grace, as though swatting at an insignificant gnat.

"Oh, Marcus, don't be fooled by youthful whimsy. Isla's affection for Javier is nothing but the fleeting fancy of a young heart and an infatuation with the forbidden. It will pass, as such things always do."

She stepped closer, her gaze locked onto his. "You, however, are as steadfast as a mother can dream of. You can give her the stability she needs to grow and flourish. She'll learn to love that about you—about the life you'll build together."

Marcus felt the weight of her words like a pull, strong yet somehow intangible. He understood duty, the call of service to something greater than oneself. But there was something else, too—a whisper of doubt that swirled around him.

Was it okay to marry someone who was in love with another man? Would that life bring him happiness or sorrow? And what about Isla? Would she be happy?

He glanced at Victoria. The setting sun cast a fiery glow on her face, illuminating the determination etched into her features.

"Victoria," Marcus began, his voice low and even, "you speak of stability as if it's the only compass that should guide us. But what of Isla's own course? Her dreams?"

His gaze remained fixed on the horizon, where the ocean met the sky in an endless embrace.

"Don't you think she deserves to navigate her future by her stars, not ours?"

For a moment, Victoria's composure wavered, as though the very cliffs they stood upon trembled beneath her feet. Her eyes, usually so sure and commanding, flickered with something raw and unguarded. It was gone as quickly as it came—like a rogue wave retreating back into the ocean's depths.

“Marcus,” she said, her tone cool but tinged with steel, “I need your help with this matter. I fear that if she… if she falls into the wrong hands, things will go terribly wrong for her." She took a step closer, her eyes locking onto his. "If she follows this direction, our family will have no choice but to cut her off completely. You grew up poor, Marcus. You know what it’s like to have nothing."

Marcus felt the sting of her words, the truth in them. As of right now, his mother was sick, very ill, her heart failing her. And they couldn’t afford her surgery. Marcus was desperate to make enough money to help her.

Victoria knew this. She knew how desperate he was.

He held Victoria's gaze, the silence between them stretching out like the endless ocean before them. A gull cried overhead.

“Think about it, Marcus. Not only money enough to help your mother get her surgery but also to buy her a new house, a better one, instead of that mobile home you grew up in.”

Victoria paced a step ahead, her silhouette sharp against the sky's fading light. She stopped abruptly, turning to face him once more as they reached the end of their path.

"Marcus," she said, her voice carrying a note of urgency that cut through the air like a knife. "You must see the sense in what I'm proposing. It's not just about Isla—it's about all of us. My family and yours. We are at a crossroads, and your union with her could steer us toward calmer waters."

She moved closer, her gaze imploring. The setting sun cast a warm glow on her face, highlighting the earnestness etched into her features. "Isla is lost; she needs you, someone who understands her and loves her. Who better than you?"

Marcus nodded once, a slow, deliberate motion.

"I'll think about it," he said.

His words were sparse, but they carried the weight of a solemn vow, echoing the sense of duty that had always steered his life.

"Thank you, Marcus," Victoria replied, her tone softening. There was a subtle shift in her posture, a release of tension as if she'd been holding her breath, waiting for him to accept the burden of her request. “That’s all I can ask for.”