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“I was just trying to make things as smooth as possible for everyone,” Silas said, a bit edgy. “Didn’t really even know what this assignment was going to require of me, and then here you were ...”

Ophelia set the letters aside and pushed her hands against her thighs.

She knew she was exhausted and emotional from the night, but instead of admitting to it, she gave in to her irritation.

“I think not speaking about things generally makes them more awkward, not less. And you don’t give either of us much credit, assuming we couldn’t have come to a solution.

” She took a breath to steady herself. She had, after all, worried about the same thing when he arrived.

“I’ve been trying to face things head on these days, not keep it all in the shadows as I used to.

I want to see the shape of the challenge before I decide I’m not up for it .

.. I feel ... well, I actually feel a little angry that you made the decision for me.

For us.” She hadn’t known exactly what she wanted to say until the words were out, but now that they were, she felt their honesty.

She was tired of having decisions made for her, tired of not being consulted on the matter of her own life.

In hindsight, it was a large part of why she had left the estate, joined the WLA.

It rankled that Silas had acted without speaking to her, as if she didn’t even signify.

“Well, I hadn’t any idea what your thoughts might be, not having seen you in years, had I?” Silas heard the tension in his own voice, his mouth tense at the corners. “You’re not the only one who’s trying to figure out what to do with their life, Ophelia,” he said. “Damn it, that came out wrong.”

Silas felt an ugly slither of fear in his chest. It mingled with the coil of self-preservation urging him to push back.

He heard the hurt in Ophelia’s voice, saw the irritation playing across her face, felt the fear of losing the connection they were building.

He was coming to love seeing her every day, sharing their work, looked forward to more walks in the evenings.

He didn’t know how to explain his desire to leave the farm without revealing how her father had used blackmail to force him into enlisting.

Didn’t know if he could properly explain the fear he had felt when faced with the choice.

Didn’t know anymore if he had made the right choice.

“I can see you don’t want to discuss it, Silas. I apologize again for looking at your things. I had no right to do so.” Ophelia’s voice was somehow frosty and disappointed. She stood looking at him, her hands fiddling with the hem of her tunic.

“No, ’tisn’t that, Fee. I promise. I do want to discuss it, I really do.” He petered off, then sucked in a breath, decision made. “When I arrived, I was so taken aback to see you, I hadn’t a clue what to do. I was so glad and then worried?—”

“About what?”

“There are things about my enlisting that I wasn’t able to explain at the time, things about it I thought I would never have to tell you. I didn’t have any idea that we would see each other again, not like this.”

She frowned, a tiny wrinkle gathering between her brows, her lips settling into a firm line.

“I don’t think I understand, Silas. What has any of this to do with me? Or the telegram?”

He wanted to walk away, wanted more than anything to not have to tell her this piece of his past. He forced the words out, ignoring the taste of bile that rose in his throat.

He hated thinking of those days, the threat in Blackwood’s voice, the derision in his eyes.

The utter horror of what he faced in France.

“I, uh ... I wasn’t planning to enlist, as you know, but your father approached me that fall.” She made a noise like a growl, and he paused, looking up.

“My father,” she ground out. “This has to do with my father?” Her voice was quiet, laced with an anger he’d never heard before.

He nodded. “He was, as you already know, unhappy with our friendship, and when I brought my essential services exemption papers to him for his signature, he refused. Not many people know that essential labourers require the signature of their employer to be eligible for the designation, but he did and was prepared to use it to his advantage. I tried to argue with him, but he said it was either enlist, or he would end my mother’s tenancy on the farm. ”

“But you did enlist,” Ophelia said slowly.

Silas nodded again. “I’m not sure ... I don’t know what he will do if he finds out that we are stationed here together.

I can’t risk my family being turned off the land .

.. my mother ... it would destroy her.

” The bile continued to rise, the acid heat of it stealing his breath.

He swallowed hard, wanting to finish what he’d started.

“God damn him!” Ophelia swore, pacing to the window. “That vile snake of a man, what an utter shite!”

Silas had never heard her swear and was simultaneously impressed and, if he cared to think on it, turned on. Hardly the time, he told himself.

“And you didn’t want to say anything to me because ...” She paused, looking at him carefully. Then realization lit her face. “Because you thought I might have known what my father did?”

Silas felt the anger fizzle in the pit of his stomach, cold ash. “Well, I had no idea. I suppose I didn’t think it was out of the realm of possibility ... we’d not spoken after I enlisted. Perhaps you were angry with me for going, or perhaps your father had already told you. I just didn’t know.”

Ophelia turned, hands on hips, colour high on her cheeks.

Her hair, mussed from the night’s trial, was a soft cloud, wild tendrils backlit by the light of the window.

The terrible truth was Silas thought she was the most beautiful creature he’d ever beheld.

He wanted so much to make her understand, to turn the contents of his mind inside out so that she might see the agony he felt in making the decision.

Might see how he had tried to protect everyone he loved and ended up failing all of them.

Ophelia’s arms dropped to her sides and she moved quickly toward him.

“My God, Silas, didn’t you think you might speak to me?

” she said, coming to a stop in front of him.

“How could you think I would have played any part in my father’s games?

Forcing you to enlist? Threatening your family?

Are those things you think me capable of?

” Her eyes were cloudy with tears, and she reached out for his hand.

Grasping his larger one in her smaller one, she squeezed.

“Knowing my father as I do, I can’t say I’m surprised by this, but it is despicable, even for him.

Of all the horrifying things.” She made a tiny movement toward him so they were standing toe-to-toe, hands still clasped.

Silas brought his free hand to her cheek, cupping it carefully, slowly running a thumb back and forth along her cheekbone.

Her cheeks were still flushed and her skin satin-soft under his thumb.

He watched her, thoughts flitting like birds across her face.

She stilled, and giving a gentle tug on his arm, she said again, “Why didn’t you just speak to me, Silas?

I know being billeted here was a shock, but we’ve managed to talk of other things that required some trust in me.

We might have worked out a way to protect your mother’s rights to the farm.

God help me, if you don’t think that’s what I would have wanted. ”

“I didn’t want to worry you, and I didn’t know the details of your leaving the estate. I wasn’t sure on what terms you had parted from your father.”

“Both of which could have been solved with a conversation,” she said, frowning a little. “Did you not think it concerned me as well? Your arrival, I mean.”

“I, um, well, I didn’t think of it that way, to be honest. It seemed best for me to remove myself from the situation and barring that, that I work as quickly as I could to find a new situation for my mother and family. I didn’t know what you might think about any of it.”

“No, indeed,” she said tartly, sliding her hand from his. “And you didn’t bother to find out, did you?”

“I was trying to protect you from all the mess, trying to fix it before it all came apart,” Silas said, feeling caught out, defensive. He had been trying to do right, to fix the mess he had made. His hand clenched around the empty place hers had been so recently.

“I don’t need to be protected from everything, Silas.

I am capable of making decisions and facing hard things.

I didn’t want to be manoeuvred about by my father, and I certainly don’t want to be managed by you.

If there is something concerning me, I expect to be included in the conversation.

If you have a question, you need only ask. I am not a child to be placated.”

“I understand that, but try to see it from my perspective, Fee. I had no way of knowing you had changed, had these new ideas, demands of your own. Damn it, I didn’t even know how you got here. I just knew what your father had threatened to do.”

He wasn’t sure she had heard him because she continued, “But that’s almost how you think of me, isn’t it?

A little woman to be coddled and kept from the mess of her own affairs.

” She was breathing hard now, her upset writ in every angle of her body.

“Can’t you understand this is what makes my choice to be here so important, independence so vital?

I don’t want to be told who I might marry, nor do I want to be told what I am allowed to be involved in.

Control under the guise of protection is still control.

I don’t want to be controlled any longer. ”

Silas felt hot and angry. Or hurt. He couldn’t quite tell.

“For God’s sake, Fee. I’ve been pushed into nothing but failure year after year.

I’m only trying to keep my head above water and you’re yelling at me about rights and protection.

I tried to do right by my family, and to do right by you, Fee.

I don’t know what I’ve to offer if it’s not some kind of protection, some action to smooth your way in the world. ”

“But don’t you see? You haven’t smoothed anything,” she said, frustrated. “Keeping the secret made everything more complicated.”

He opened his mouth to speak, her words swirling around in his head, and closed it again.

But no, he couldn’t let it stand. “How could it be more complicated?” he snapped.

“My family’s in danger of being evicted, you blame me for keeping secrets, and I’ve no way to fix any of it.

” He was so tired he wanted to cry—tired of pain and worry and expectations and failure.

He looked at Ophelia, no longer sure what to say, and saw the moment she understood the stakes for him, that as high as they were for her, the ground he stood on was equally unsteady.

The dark slashes of her eyebrows relaxed, the hard set of her chin softened, and instead of irritation, there was resignation.

“I’m too tired to talk about this anymore,” she said quietly.

“Damn it, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken that way, Fee.”

“No, it’s alright. I just ... just can’t right now.” And then she was gone, out the door before he could call her back.