spoken. Conversation had never been necessary between them. Yet now her silence was unbearable.
Leaning on an elbow, he stared down at a beguiling woman who lay as if she were sleeping. But he knew her body language too well not to read the wakeful tension. As patience deserted him, he tugged a stray curl. “Hey, lazybones, want to go fishing?”
Reluctantly her dark gaze met his. Knowing the time for pretense was past, but not ready to speak, she looked away.
Jefferson had never seen her so distant. It was rare that she would call him at midday asking that he meet her here. Rare that she barely greeted him then withdrew. Something was wrong. “What is it, Marissa? Why did you ask me to come here?”
When her reply was only a shrug, he lapsed again into silent contemplation. She was Marissa Claire Alexandre. Merrie to all but him, for whom the name hadn’t fit. An inexplicable perception he couldn’t explain to any but himself.
Four years before, she’d come to Belle Terre. Sent from the Alexandre estancia by a father determined to tame his daredevil daughter. Guided by Eden Cade, Marissa was to learn the ways of Southern ladies. Lessons she’d mastered perfectly, yet never lost her love of country life, or her passion for horses.
In the beginning their friendship was based on mutual admiration of their unique skill with horses. From that beginning came a deepening of common interests. As good friends became confidants, it was to him she turned in happy or troubled times.
But Marissa was only twenty-one, eight years younger than he. A disparity he never forgot, even as the remarkable girl became a remarkable woman—and Jefferson Cade, once forever immune, had fallen deeply in love with her. Deeply but in vain. In denial of all he felt, he survived by reminding himself the woman within the alluring body loved him as a friend.
Too soon even that would be taken from him. From the first, the plan was clear. Marissa would spend five years in her mother’s homeland. Then she was to return to Argentina to honor obligations she neither explained nor discussed. Jefferson had learned to live with the inevitable. Time in hand was too precious to waste agonizing over the time to come. And if friendship was all he could have, he would be a friend in every need.
Besieged by desire, but setting the sorrow of it aside, he turned her face to him. “Hey,” he questioned as he saw tears in her dark eyes. “What is it, sweetheart? How can I help?”
Marissa stared up at him, memorizing each handsome feature. She knew Jefferson had never understood the charisma of his smile, the power of his kindness. In all their years of friendship, he hadn’t known of her dual dilemma. When he’d urged her to spend more time with classmates and teased that she would never find her Prince Charming in the wilds with him, he didn’t understand she was promised to a much older man.
A promise she must honor. Though she’d found her prince where Jefferson said she couldn’t, she would keep her father’s word. And leave her heart in Prince Charming’s keeping.
As always in his strong presence, she found her own strength. Catching his wrist, she pressed her cheek in his palm. “There’s no help for a day that was preordained. I knew it would come, but not so soon.”
Slipping the scarf from her hair, he smoothed dark, silky tresses with his fingers. “What day, Marissa?”
“The day I say goodbye.”
He went totally still. “But you have another year.”
“That was the agreement. But now it’s different.” Her voice broke. “I’ve been called home.”
He wondered what agreement, but only asked, “When?”
Tears she’d denied flooded her eyes. “I leave tomorrow.”
Jefferson tensed. Then he drew her to him, embracing her in futile denial. “Not yet. Not so soon.”
Her arms crept around him, her head rested over his heart. She would remember this moment and treasure it. Someday she would tell the children she might have about this enchanting place, and of the man whose creation the tree house had been.
If she had sons, she would speak of his ruggedness, his adventures, and his communion with the wilderness. If she had daughters, she would tell them of the tenderness of a beautiful man, and would wonder if they looked into her heart and saw the truth.
But that lay in the future, that didn’t begin until tomorrow. Until then, she had this one, last day with Jefferson.
His chest rose and fell beneath her cheek as it nestled against the hard muscles. His hands at her shoulders moved her from his embrace. His shadowed stare moved over her face, lingering at her mouth, her eyes. Seeing what he hadn’t let himself see before. Believing what he hadn’t dared believe.
“Dear God,” he whispered, with regret for lost time, lost love.
Marissa didn’t flinch or turn away. For once, she wouldn’t hide what she felt for him.
Jefferson’s heart filled with hope. “Don’t go, Marissa.” Softly he spoke words he never expected to say. “Stay with me.”
In his face she saw despair, honor, a friend’s love. With a sigh she spoke the truth. “I can’t. There is a man, my father owes him a great deal. In return, I was promised to him long ago.”
“Promised to him?” Whatever he expected, it was never this. “Do you love him? Have I misread what I see in your eyes?”
Marissa felt the lash of his anger and forgave it. “I hardly know him. The betrothal was a business arrangement. He wanted a wife one day. It was decided I would be that wife.”
“In return for what?” Jefferson’s clasp on her shoulders seared into her flesh. “What do you get out of this arrangement?”
“I get nothing, Jefferson. But because of me, my father and mother can keep their life as it is.”
“Your life and you were traded for wealth, to insure a lifestyle?” He spat the words. “Your father would do that?”
“For money, power, the lifestyle? Yes.” Marissa was calm beneath his angry glare. “It’s the way of the wealthy, bartering lives, love, even children. My father was desperate. My mother’s health was failing. It was for her sake he negotiated this time in Belle Terre. In the bargain, I was to bring the expected graces to the marriage. And who better than Eden to teach me? Now, as a point of honor, my father is impatient to resolve the debt.”
“Honor?” Disgust seethed in Jefferson. Disgust she didn’t deserve. She loved her mother and her father. She was so young at the time, what choice was there for her? Deep in his soul, he understood. But understanding couldn’t ease the anguish.
“Arranged marriages aren’t uncommon in my land and families like mine. All my father has ever known is abundant wealth. As young as I was, even I could see the more extravagant the lifestyle, the less one can fathom living a lesser existence. In your world, the arrangement is despicable. In my father’s, he has done his best for his family. I could defy him and refuse to honor his word. But, because my mother’s illness is slowly debilitating and will likely continue for years, I won’t try.”
Jefferson drew a breath. An unsteady hand caressed her face. Softly, he said, “Then tell me how I can help you now.”
