Secret Worlds (209 page)

Algar, August 1747, 5 months later

She came as often as she could without rousing Lawrence’s suspicions. She preferred to visit every two weeks, but that wasn’t always feasible. The more time passed, the harder it became for Amaia to pretend that her visits were compelled by the pull of Michael’s aura. She looked forward to her visits, desiring Michael’s company for its own sake. Regardless of how long she stayed away, Michael was always pleased to see her, and he never pushed her to explain her long absences. He honored her request to not pry into her life.

Long before he could see her, Amaia saw Michael on top of his roof, apparently repairing a leak. As soon as he saw her, he stopped and raised a hand in greeting. She found the way his face came alive and his energy changed flattering.

“Do you have time to eat lunch with a friend?” Amaia lifted her picnic basket. It was easy enough to run with, and it gave the illusion that she lived closer than she did.

“For you? Always.” Michael climbed down and led Amaia to the shade of a giant oak in front of his house. “Does this work?”

“It’s perfect. Could we ask for a more beautiful day?” Amaia matched Michael’s grin. A smile usually graced her face when she was around him, and it wasn’t the sham she was used to wearing around men. It felt liberating.

“No, that’s why I’m taking advantage of it and getting this roof fixed.”

“Oh, well I can leave if I’m inconveniencing you.” Amaia made to turn around, but Michael caught her around the waist. It was one of their increasingly frequent moments of physical contact, and Amaia felt her entire body respond. Even the faint energy that she emitted buzzed.

“Stop right there. The roof can wait ’til tomorrow. Much better use of this fine weather to spend it in your company.”

Amaia unpacked the basket. It was nothing fancy, just a roasted hen and some bread with fig preserves, but they ate and talked and ate some more. There were moments she even forgot she was a vampire. She could easily have been mortal, eating with Michael in the gardens at Hampton Court Palace as she had one hundred and twenty-five years ago. It was an idyllic day. Every day she spent with Michael felt the same.

***

“Do you want to go riding with me? There’s a lovely lake I’d like to show you.” Michael went to saddle his horse, Callie.

“I prefer to walk.”

“I’m afraid it’s rather far.”

“Horses tend to not like me.” It was the truth. Animals were much smarter than humans and knew to keep their distance from Amaia’s kind. Her mimicry could only fool humans. Most animals couldn’t stand the scent of vampire.

Michael chuckled. “I doubt that very much.”

“I’ll show you.” Amaia approached Michael and the horse with her hand outstretched. As soon as she got close, the mare whinnied and tossed her head, trying to back away.

Michael made soothing noises and patted the mare on the side of her neck. “Odd. Callie tends to like everybody.”

“I told you.”

“Well, she won’t throw you if you’re riding with me. What do you say?”

Amaia shook her head. “Not today. Maybe another time.”

“You’re not scared, are you?”

“Of course not. Scared of what? A silly horse?”

“Well then, come on.” Michael swung up into the saddle in one fluid motion and reached down his hand in her direction.

Amaia took it and settled in behind him. If the horse threw her, or, more accurately, Michael, she would break its neck.

Neither of them spoke during the ride. Amaia rested her cheek against Michael’s back. The closeness was comforting, right. Amaia wished she could stay curled around him forever.

When they reached the lake, they took off their shoes and stockings to wade in the cool water.

“I would like you to be my wife.” Michael said it so simply, as if it was as common a phrase as “good day.”

Amaia halted and momentarily forgot to breathe. Her thoughts whirled. She didn’t know if the idea of marriage terrified her or excited her. Regardless, the idea was too far-fetched to give any serious thought. “What?”

“Don’t look so shocked. I proposed to you once before. Why not in this life? We’re the same people. I still want you. You already have a ring, and you don’t know how it warms my heart that you still wear it. I have no idea how you’ve kept it or why you always look the same. I’ve respected your request and not asked about it because I don’t care. All I care about is being with you.” He fingered the ring he had given her over a century ago.

His face was so open and full of hope. Amaia hated to crush it, but she had no choice. “Michael, we can’t.” She pulled her hand away.

“Why not?” His eyes stayed on her.

“Because it isn’t right. You don’t even know anything about my life. I’m not the type of girl you should marry.”

“I beg to differ.” He said it with such confidence.

“You can beg all you want; it doesn’t change anything.”

“I’m going to die.” The shine in his eyes dimmed, the gray depths taking on the serious hue they often held in her hauntings.

“Everyone dies.”

“Yes, but I’m going to die young.”

Amaia stayed silent. It was futile to contradict him, and it seemed acknowledging him would only add fuel to his fire.

“I want to be with you.” Michael grabbed her hands. “If I’m going to die soon, I want to be married to you first. Why can’t you give me this?”

Amaia backed away, out of his reach. “You’re going to die, that’s why I can’t. I won’t tie you down during the time you have left.”

Michael stepped forward and held her shoulders in his firm grip, anchoring her, acting as her rock, forcing her to see reason. “That’s the craziest thing I’ve heard, Amaia, and I’m the man who remembers living multiple lives before this one.”

Amaia chuckled uneasily. “It’s not crazy. We shouldn’t marry just because you’re going to die.”

“Yes, we should. I’ve told you that I remember everything. In all those memories, there’s not one of us being together. We’ve never been husband and wife. Why not do it now?”

Amaia averted her eyes, but it was no use. He wasn’t going to let her escape. Part of her loved him for it. “I’m not going to pretend to be something I’m not. If you want sex, we can do it without getting married.”

Michael’s mouth twisted, as if he tasted something sour, even as the rest of his face stayed resolutely firm. “I won’t dishonor you like that.”

“You know what I did for a living. I do it still. That hasn’t changed, Michael. I’m no virgin.”

“I know the realities, Amaia. But it’s dishonorable for me to have sex with you as if I’m another of your clients. I’m not. I don’t want to be. I want to be your husband, to take care of you, to love you, to share every minute I have left with you. I want all of you, not just your body.”

That was the root of the problem. It scared Amaia to the core of her being. It always had. She couldn’t let someone else possess her. Independence had been hard-won in her mortal life, and was more valuable than any jewel, even now.

“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.

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?”

“Juan Medina.”

“I’ve never heard of him.” There was no possibility this man was as connected as he’d led Michael to believe. He sounded like a bully who saw an easy target in an outsider with no family to protect him. Amaia had ways of dealing with haughty humans.

“Well, now you have. I’m sorry to burden you with this. It’s my problem. I’ll take care of it.”

“Nonsense. What are friends for? I’m sure everything will be fine. There’s no sense worrying about it now. Why don’t we go down to the lake?”

“I have too much work to do, and I’m afraid I won’t be good company today. I’m sorry, Amaia. I hate to waste the time that you’re here.”

Amaia shrugged. “If you have work to do, then you have work to do. It’s not a problem, Michael. I can help, if you’d like.”

“That’s awfully nice of you, but I don’t think you can exactly make horseshoes for me.”

“No, but I can clean and cook.” That was a bit of an overstatement. Amaia wasn’t exactly one for domestic duties, but her speed would aid her in cleaning the hut he called a house, and there was no way she could cook anything worse than the gruel, stews, and tough meat he was used to eating.

Michael cocked an eyebrow. “Since when?”

Amaia opened her mouth in mock offense. “Since the last century. I have learned some things.”

“You really don’t need to.”

“Shush. I’m not asking permission. You finish what you need to. I’ll be in the house cleaning. We’ll eat in two hours. Even you need to eat.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Michael smiled, and it changed his whole demeanor. His gray eyes became warm and inviting. He should never need to furrow his brow in worry.

Two hours later, they dined on a passable rabbit stew.

“Thank you, Amaia. This stew is wonderful.” Michael polished off his bowl.