“When was this?”
“The day my uncle visited.”
“But you?—”
“I am aware of how I made it sound. I did so only out of anger.” Phillip’s eyes darted away from her as if he were ashamed. “It is not the people who love you and hold you dear who worry me.”
“Who is it, then?”
Phillip sighed, bringing a hand up to run it through his black tresses. “I am ashamed to say.”
“I am your wife. There should be no shame between us in such matters.”
“No? Then when should I feel shame before my wife?”
Marina hummed thoughtfully for a moment before she answered. “When the shame stems from regarding me as anything less than your wife.”
Phillip nodded and swallowed hard around the lump in his throat. He had hoped that she would be up to their usual antics, but that she answered him in earnest was an indication that there was quite some work to do to win her back. He could not have Marina taking dangerous trips by horseback for any reason but particularly not because of his own behavior.
“I am afraid that, try as I might, I have not been able to rid myself of all the poison which my father left in me.”
“No?”
“No. I find that I am fearful of most of my associates but particularly of those who share my surname.”
Marina was silent for a while as they circled back around to the start of the path together. They stopped at a bench, and Phillip idly reached out to touch one of her blonde curls, holding it gingerly in his palm. She wanted to shy away from the sudden display of affection, but she found that she was tethered to it—she had gone so long without feeling the warmth from Phillip toward her that she had not realized how sorely she missed it until now.
“Why not tell me that, then, rather than what you said?”
“I was in a state. I felt…as though I lacked control over a situation.”
“Which situation was that?”
Phillip took a moment to think carefully. He owed her at least some form of explanation but giving part of a truth often led to the rest of it.
“Marina, my uncle is twice the man my father was, but there are some traits they do share. I love him deeply, but I do not always trust him. I…I would like to keep you from that for as long as possible. I am not yet prepared to share that part of my life. I must…I must first learn to deal with it myself before I ask you to burden yourself with it.”
“That is how you feel. Have you not stopped to think that you might ask me how I feel?” Marina’s expression was hard, challenging him. Phillip was not surprised—he would be sick of his self-pity as well if he were her. But he needed to find a way toconvince her to believe him. They could not go on like this with his constant pushing and her reactionary pulling.
“I have. I do not know how.”
Her eyes searched his, and Phillip allowed the truth of his statement to come to the surface. No one had ever inquired about his heart. How could he have learned to inquire about another’s?
“You must learn.” Her tone was tight and sore, but Phillip could tell from her face that she was bending. He took her hands in his and gazed into her eyes, hoping that she could see through him to the important parts of his heart—the parts that were growing to hold her dearer than he had ever imagined.
“I will aim to. Marina, I do not wish to continue to push you further without my reach.”
“Your recent behavior might suggest otherwise. You are like a ghost haunting our home—there is evidence that you are there, yet I never see you.”
“I thought it best that there be some space between us.”
“Did you not think to tell me this?”
Phillip faltered but only for a moment. “I was not prepared to speak to you about our conversation. While I believed that you needed less proximity to me, I selfishly required time.”
“Perhaps you say such things out loud in the future.”
“I will make every effort.”
