Chapter 46: Things We Have No Right To Want

Chapter 46: Chapter 46: Things We Have No Right To Want

The evening gathering ended later than expected.

Music drifted through the open doors.

Laughter echoed from the ballroom.

Guests lingered.

Nobody seemed particularly eager to retire.

Marian was.

Very eager.

Because she had spent the entire day behaving like a perfectly reasonable person.

And she was exhausted.

The effort had been tremendous.

Pretending not to notice Cassian.

Pretending not to care.

Pretending she hadn’t spent half the afternoon wondering where he was.

An experience she would not recommend.

To anyone.

Especially herself.

The cool night air felt welcome.

Marian stepped onto one of the garden paths.

The retreat grounds stretched quietly beneath moonlight.

The lake shimmered in the distance.

Peaceful.

Beautiful.

Infuriatingly familiar.

Because apparently every important conversation in her life now happened near water.

Wonderful.

Just wonderful.

Marian followed the path toward the shoreline.

The sound of footsteps reached her moments later.

She already knew who it was.

Which was becoming a problem.

A very large problem.

Cassian appeared beside her.

For several seconds neither spoke.

Neither seemed inclined to leave.

The silence stretched.

Then—

"You’ve been avoiding me."

"You’ve been avoiding me."

They spoke simultaneously.

Both stopped.

Both stared.

And despite everything, Marian almost laughed.

Almost.

Cassian looked equally unimpressed.

"Well," he said dryly, "that’s embarrassing."

Marian folded her arms.

"You started it."

"I absolutely did not."

"You did."

"You walked out of a pavilion the moment you saw me."

Marian opened her mouth.

Then closed it.

Because unfortunately he was correct.

The realization irritated her immediately.

"You seemed occupied."

The words escaped before she could stop them.

Silence.

Cassian’s expression changed.

Not much.

Just enough.

Because he understood.

Immediately.

The marquess’s daughter.

Of course.

Wonderful.

Just wonderful.

"You seemed occupied too."

The answer came just as quickly.

Meaning Adrian.

Without saying Adrian’s name.

The air shifted.

Not dramatically.

Just enough.

Marian felt her jaw tighten.

Because she understood too.

Immediately.

And somehow that made everything worse.

"I wasn’t the one entertaining every eligible woman at the retreat."

The words left her mouth.

Sharp.

Far sharper than intended.

The second they were spoken, Marian regretted them.

Not because they were unfair.

Because they sounded suspiciously like something else.

Something she absolutely refused to examine.

Cassian’s eyes narrowed.

Slightly.

"And I wasn’t the one spending the afternoon laughing with her fiancé."

Silence.

Immediate.

Absolute.

The words struck harder than they should have.

Because they were true.

And because neither of them had any business noticing.

That was the problem.

Noticing.

Remembering.

Caring.

Marian stared at him.

Cassian stared right back.

For several moments neither spoke.

The lake stretched quietly behind them.

Moonlight danced across the water.

Neither noticed.

Because suddenly the scenery seemed considerably less important.

"You have absolutely no right—"

The words escaped before she could stop them.

Then stopped.

Abruptly.

Because the sentence had nowhere to go.

No right to what?

Care?

Notice?

Be annoyed?

The problem was obvious.

She didn’t have that right either.

The realization settled heavily between them.

Cassian looked away first.

A rare occurrence.

Then laughed once.

Without amusement.

Without humor.

Just frustration.

"That’s the problem, isn’t it?"

Marian hated that he understood her so easily.

She hated it because she liked it.

Which was worse.

"What problem?"

Cassian looked back at her.

Directly.

Steadily.

And suddenly she wished she hadn’t asked.

"Why were you disappointed?"

The question landed between them.

Simple.

Brutal.

Impossible.

Marian froze.

Because she knew exactly what he meant.

The marquess’s daughter.

The pavilion.

The garden.

The disappointment she had spent all afternoon pretending didn’t exist.

She looked away immediately.

Toward the lake.

Toward the trees.

Toward literally anything except him.

"I wasn’t."

Cassian’s expression remained unchanged.

The liar.

The realization arrived immediately.

Because he knew.

And worse—

he knew she knew.

"Why were you?"

The question left her before she could stop it.

Instant retaliation.

Petty.

Defensive.

Necessary.

For the first time that evening, something flashed across Cassian’s face.

Not amusement.

Not patience.

Annoyance.

Good.

Marian was pleased to discover she wasn’t suffering alone.

"I asked first."

"That’s not an answer."

"Neither was yours."

The argument should have been ridiculous.

Instead it felt dangerously serious.

Because neither was actually talking about the marquess’s daughter.

Or Adrian.

Or the luncheon.

Or the pavilion.

They were talking about something else.

Something neither wanted to name.

The silence returned.

Longer this time.

Heavier.

Then Cassian exhaled slowly.

"This is exactly why I asked you what you wanted."

The frustration had disappeared from his voice.

Something worse had replaced it.

Honesty.

Marian immediately disliked it.

"Because we’re starting to expect things from each other."

The words landed softly.

They hurt anyway.

Because they were true.

Painfully true.

Marian opened her mouth.

Then closed it again.

Because she had no defense.

No argument.

No denial.

Nothing.

Cassian continued looking at the lake.

Not at her.

Perhaps because it was easier.

Perhaps because it wasn’t.

"And neither of us has any right to."

There it was.

The real wound.

Not the disappointment.

Not the irritation.

Not even the jealousy.

The absence of permission.

The knowledge that every feeling becoming harder to ignore was a feeling they should not have.

Marian stared at the water.

Her chest felt tight.

Uncomfortable.

Crowded.

Because she knew he was right.

That was the worst part.

He was right.

The realization settled between them.

Quiet.

Heavy.

Undeniable.

For several moments neither spoke.

Then Marian asked the question she had been avoiding all evening.

The question she had been avoiding for days.

Perhaps weeks.

"What do we do?"

The words emerged barely above a whisper.

Cassian went still.

Because that was the question.

Wasn’t it?

Not what they felt.

Not whether they felt it.

What they were supposed to do about it.

Neither had an answer.

The silence that followed felt different.

Not angry.

Not awkward.

Not hopeful.

Just honest.

And somehow that was the most frightening thing of all.

Because for the first time, neither of them could pretend the problem wasn’t real.

And neither of them knew how to solve it.