Her true feelings

*Julia*

For two days straight I sleep. Then I bathe twice. I look at Noa from the doorway as Nanny holds her up. I don’t dare stand too close, just in case I am on the verge of becoming ill. I will give it a week, after which I will hold my daughter close for two days straight.

I enjoy a hearty breakfast, eating until I can barely move. But movement is in order. Gathering my cloak around me, I walk to the mausoleum. Within these marble walls, I have poured out my heart and soul to Noah, wept uncontrollably, wiped away tears, cursed him, cursed myself, cursed Nick.

Now I know he had died not because he was careless enough to play with a wild creature, but because he had been intent on saving his brother. I place my hand on his effigy. “I finished reading your journal. You thought of me every day as I thought of you. I still think of you every day. I wake up and think… he’s already gone down to breakfast. Only you haven’t. You never will again, and I have to keep reminding myself of that.

“It’s difficult to believe that it’s been a little over seven months since we parted, since I last kissed you or held you or spoke to you or looked at your beloved face. The grief over losing you hasn’t lessened. I don’t know if it ever will. It’s a fact of my life now, no matter how much I wish it otherwise.

“I don’t know if you knew that you weren’t going to come back, but I do believe, with all my heart, that you would understand everything I’m feeling right now without my having to tell you. Everything I feel for you. And everything I feel for Nick. I think you would approve. I think that’s what you were trying to tell me, why you wrote to me. So I would know that you cared for my happiness above all else."

I stroke my hand over the marble, wishing I could touch him one last time. “I love you, Noah. Always I shall love and miss you."

I remain only a few minutes more before walking back to the residence. I haven’t seen Nick since his fever has broken. It is time I do.

He is lounging on the sofa in the sitting area in front of the window. The draperies are pulled aside, allowing the sunlight to stream in. Based on reports from the servants, I know he has yet to venture out of this room, but as he comes to his feet, wearing only trousers and a loose fitting linen shirt, I know he is on the cusp of feeling well enough to go about his business.

“You don’t have to get up,” I say.

“Of course, I do."

Making my way around the sofa, I go to the chair that rests between it and the window. “You look as though you’re feeling much better," I say, dropping into the chair.

“You look tired.” He returns to his place on the far end, as though he fears he may spook me if he get too close.

“I’m rested. Feeling well. So far no one else in the residence has taken ill."

“I pray everyone else is spared.”

“I’m remaining optimistic.” I glance at the clock, the fireplace, the perfectly made bed. “It appears we’re going to have a lovely day."

“Winter should be behind us soon."

I nod, not really here to discuss the weather.

“Would you care for some tea?” he asks, and only then do I notice the tea service in the center of the table, the cup and saucer resting on the corner near his knee.

What I really crave is some brandy, except it is far too early for that. I shake my head. “No, thank you."

We sit in silence for a few minutes. Finally he says, “I’m glad you came by. I’ve not had a chance to thank you for tending to me.”

“My parents died of influenza.”

“Yes, I know. I’m sorry.”

“It was some years back. ”

“Still, it must have been difficult for you to be in here."

“It would have been more so not to be here. I’m sorry that you didn’t feel you could let me know."

“I didn’t want you to worry." He gives his head a little shake, his smile self-effacing. “To be honest, I think I was more afraid that you wouldn’t worry, that you would rejoice, consider it deserved."

“I’m sorry for that as well. That you would think I would take pleasure in your suffering." I hate this inconsequential prattle. “Do you have any brandy?"

One of his eyebrows arches up. “Within this room, no. But I can have some brought up."

I shake my head, waving my hand. “Not necessary, but can you give me a moment?"

“Of course."

Although I am studying my hands clutched tightly in my lap, I can feel Nick’s gaze on me. The words had spilled forth so much easier when I am walking back from the mausoleum. “I think I knew.”

“That I have no brandy? ”

I deliver a pointed glare that has him sitting back as though I punched him.

“I see.”

“I’m not certain you truly do.” Taking a deep breath, I squeeze my hands until the bones ache with the danger of cracking. “I knew something was different. I convinced myself that Noah and I had both changed during the months that we were apart. That it was natural for someone who wasn’t in another’s company every day to forget exactly what the other person was like. That our memories become faulty with absence. But I know he would never have approved of me reading Madame Bovary.”

“He may have.”

“No, he would not have. He was quite prim in his beliefs regarding what was proper. He would not have welcomed my advances when he was taking a bath."

“I think you’re wrong there.”

“No, you knew him as a brother. I knew him as a husband. I assure you he would have been shocked had I insisted upon pleasuring him during his bath. He was good to me. Kind. I never regretted marrying him. Never. I never didn’t want to be married to him. But sometimes…” I inhale deeply, let the air siphon out slowly. “Sometimes, I remembered a long-ago kiss in a faraway garden. And I would wonder things a married woman shouldn’t wonder. So I told my husband that I didn’t like his brother with all his bad habits staying with us. It was easier than acknowledging that his brother caused a whirlwind of confusing feelings within me.”

“When you returned from the dark lands as Noah, the way I felt around you was very different. I loved Noah. Love him still. I didn’t want him to be dead. It was easier to ignore the nagging doubts. And by being too weak to face the truth, I betrayed him."

“You didn’t…”

“I did. I have spent hours at the mausoleum talking to him, explaining myself, sorting out my thoughts and my feelings. You must never doubt that I love him."

“I don’t. I never have."

I nod. This is so damned hard. “The problem, you see, is that I fell more deeply in love with the man who recently shared my bed and helped me bring my daughter into the world. So to be completely fair and honest, I have to subtract the depth of my love for Noah when he left and acknowledge that what remains is yours."

“Jules…"

I hold up my hand. “Please don’t say anything yet."

He bows his head slightly, acquiescing to my request. That should make things easier. It doesn’t. “When you were ill, so dreadfully ill, when Dr. Warren told me to prepare myself, that my husband would probably die, because of course he believes you to be Noah… I thought, ‘How will I possibly go on if he dies?’ There was a part of me that wasn’t sure I would want to, and yet I knew I must for Noa."

“I promised I wouldn’t leave you.”

Tears burn my eyes. “But I had hurt you. I made you think I didn’t want you.”

“Still, I have yet to fall out of love with you."

A horrendous sob escapes. I cover my mouth, looking at him through the veil of tears. “What are we going to do?"

Moving to the other end of the sofa so he is nearer to me, he holds out his hand. I should get up now and leave, I tell myself, end this madness. Instead I intertwine my fingers with his.

“I am the Alpha of Greystorm,” he says. “To the servants, Alphas, and Lunas, that’s all that matters. The title. Whether it is held by Noah or Nick, they don’t care. You are the Luna of Greystorm married to the Alpha of Greystorm." He lifts a shoulder. “I don’t see that we need to tell anyone that it wasn’t my hand that guided the pen that signed the marriage contract.”

“That seems sordid, unfair to you."

He squeezes my fingers. “If we acknowledge that Noah is dead, pack law will not let me marry you.”

I breathe in a deep sigh. “Yes, I’m aware.”

“Any children we have will be bastards. I will never acquire an heir."

Pulling my hand free of his grip, I fold my hands in my lap. “We need to end this now. You need to send an announcement to the Alpha Times explaining what has occurred.”

“And your reputation?"

“Doesn’t matter. You need your heir."

A corner of his mouth tilts up. “I’m never going to marry, Julia. It would be unfair to her when my heart will always belong elsewhere."

“So we live a lie?”

“Within that lie is the truth. I love you. I want to be your husband.”

I shake my head. “I need time, Nick, to be sure. If we take this path, we can never leave it. Already we risk Noa’s future by delaying the truth."

“We have until the Season, until we go to the capital. But if we present ourselves as man and wife there, we will have to carry on."

“When were you thinking of going to town?"

“Sometime in May. We can delay until June. After all, I’m mourning the loss of my brother.”

And I am mourning the loss of my husband. How could I possibly consider pretending otherwise? I feel a great deal for this man; I simply don’t know if it is enough or if what I feel is prompted by believing for two months that he was my husband. “You should remain in this wing so I am not unduly influenced by your nearness.”

“You want to be courted."

“I want to be sure."

“Know this, Julia. If you feel for me even a thimbleful of what you felt for Noah, I would be content. For the sake of propriety, to the world, I am willing to pretend to be Noah. But never again will I pretend to you.”