“And then it’s back to the madness dwelling here,” she tapped her finger to her temple.
“It’s a beautiful madness.”
Margaret’s cheeks warmed at the compliment but dismissed it, “Yes, well I enjoy the temporary asylum painting provides for a beleaguered mind.”
Inwardly she cringed at her potentially insensitive comment to his condition.
He smiled reassuringly, “Then I’m sure I will take great pleasure in painting.”
The two painted in comfortable silence until Jonathan winced and dropped his paintbrush.
“Ah,” he let out a short burst.
Margaret flung her paintbrush down and pounded over to him. “What’s wrong?”
Jonathan held two fingers to his forehead while his thumb massaged his temple. “I don’t know. I just–Ah!”
“Don’t move. Just wait here.”
“No, please. I’m fine. I just feel like something is trying to wake up inside of my mind.”
Margaret’s hands were clammy as she tried to slow her breathing. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.” He produced a lazy smile. “I’m glad to know you’d have such concern for me.”
If only you knew.“Yes, well,” and at that moment Margaret’s eyes scanned what Jonathan had been painting. Flustered, she cast out a jumble of words, “Be that as it may, I’m just happy to know there is no concern to have to have.”
Jonathan gave her quizzical look. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” she swatted the hand he was extending to her temple. “I’m perfectly fine. Everything is fine.”
Everything was definitely not fine. Looking at Jonathan’s painting, Margaret realized how close Jonathan might be to having a breakthrough.
All he had painted on his sheet was bubbles under water.
***
JONATHAN SAT IN THE library staring at the fire as the evening air chilled. He couldn’t help thinking of the many layers of Margaret that he wanted to unpeel.
He thought back to the kiss in the tree. That kiss had fanned him into flame. Her eyes blew life into him. A life he couldn’t comprehend or remember.
He knew she was hiding a past that they shared. But he didn't know why she wouldn’t disclose the past to him. What had he done to her to deserve that? Or was it something she had done? Those were mysteries he longed to uncover.
Should he try to make up for it, without knowing anything of their past? Why remain silent? Why not just ask her? Was he afraid? If she divulged everything upon him asking, what good would it do if he didn't remember anyways? A heavy weight crept into his limbs at the thought of bearing a burden he couldn’t own. Maybe there were some memories best left forgotten. At least for a time. Don't ask what you don't want to know.
This could be his chance to start anew with Margaret. Perhaps she wasn’t telling him about their past because she had let it go. Why go dredging it up? Two parts coward, two parts respectful, and one part undecided, he would forge ahead and continue to cover ground.
MARGARET COULDN’T SLEEP. She wasn’t looking for Jonathan. Not after she raided the kitchen for a glass of milk. Not after she scoured the study for a nip of whiskey. And certainly not when she found him in the library pouring over a book.
He must have been consumed by the words on the page because he hadn’t yet looked up to acknowledge her.
Resting his cheek and jaw in the joint of his finger and thumb, she noticed he wore spectacles tonight, and she sucked in her breath. Jonathan had always been handsome, but seeing him now with his eyeglasses instantly made her nipples harden against her nightgown. He was a grown man with hair crawling out of his collar, thighs to ride, and an estate to run. How she wanted to crawl all over him, ride him thoroughly, and let her heart run away with him. But she must keep some wits about her. Some crawling, a bit of riding she would allow. If persuaded.
Without looking up, Jonathan spoke, “Although you are a woman of many talents, I doubt even you can read this from that distance.”
If you only knew what I was reading right now.
He leaned back in his chair, and offered a half grin, “What can I do for you?”
