S he’d said yes.
Callum sat atop his stallion, riding back towards town and his ducal house in the city.
She’d said yes.
For all intents and purposes, Miss Cymbeline had said yes.
He kept repeating this too himself, trying to assure himself that the meeting he had largely expected to be in charge of had not gone completely mad. What the bloody hell had happened?
In all of his life, he’d never experienced anything like he had experienced at Heron House.
He still wasn’t sure what to make of it.
He was getting married. He was sure of that. Her challenge was to stay at Heron House? Surely, the Briarwoods would be wonderful. He would fit in well. They all enjoyed living. And he would be busy from before they all got up to long after they went to bed.
What would be the harm in it? And before he knew it, Cymbeline and he would be in a church saying I do .
And yet there was something inside him that suddenly crackled to life as if he was afraid of being judged or, worse, spotted.
Would they see something no one else did? That there was something amiss with him?
He knew deep in his core that there was nothing amiss. Truly. He was a superior fellow. His father had been a superior fellow, and his children would be superior too. He lived as no one else dared to live, and he would not be ashamed of it.
Even so, something inside him…bristled.
He urged his stallion to ride faster and harder towards town. He had meetings all throughout the day, and he had managed to wedge in this particular visit because finding a wife was important.
And, still stunned, he was trying to understand that she had not been easily swayed.
His mother was right. He never should have said that he would see if she could keep pace with him.
He never should have suggested that a trial would be a good idea. He should have handled it as so many other dukes did, as a business arrangement. But the fact was he was a man who felt deeply and acted swiftly.
Despite the fact that he had known her only hours, he cared about Cymbeline. And the entire reason he’d wished for a sort of trial was because he’d been afraid that she might be hurt if she didn’t understand him.
Now, she might understand him particularly well.
And that? That also gave him pause because what if she decided that she couldn’t handle being his duchess? The idea that Cymbeline might find him to be…
No, he wouldn’t allow himself to think it. There was no need to worry. He could manage this. He was getting exactly what he wanted. Even if it felt as if what he wanted had twisted somehow into something he didn’t quite understand.
But if she did decide that she did not want to be married to a man like him…
It would be for the best. It had to be. He would have to let her go, and he would let her go quickly because he knew one thing deep in his core. He would never change.
This was who he was. A man who went through life as if he was one of those things made in the far east, lit and blazing into the sky, bursting with color and banging with noise.
He was meant to strike out and fly across the sky.
He couldn’t change that. And more importantly, he did not wish to.
But as the city came into view, a thought hit Callum.
What if, despite all his arguments of wishing for a wife who suited, Cymbeline was the only one for him?
The only one who stirred his heart. For she had awakened something in him, and parts of himself, that he had long been certain were gone, and she’d pushed at the boundaries he had so carefully put up.
What would he do then?