His Perfect Passion

There was also the idea Marianne might be pregnant. They’d made love nearly every day, and she had never been indisposed to him. Not once. The fear that she could resent being tied to h

im was reminiscent of his own parents. He fervently prayed she would welcome a child. Marianne would be a loving mother, he thought, nothing like his own. ’Twas part of why he’d chosen her…

After the funeral, Marianne started having nightmares and awakened crying in the night. Darius always held her, speaking soothingly until she returned to sleep. Speaking in Italian to her seemed to help.

Marianne didn’t appear to recall what she cried out in the dark or the things she said, but Darius heard every word as he held her fitful body close to his, crying out for someone she had loved dearly and who was lost to her now. She spoke the name with regret and anguish. The name she cried out in the dark was…Jonathan.

* * * *

…The squall had sprung up out of nowhere. Jonathan! She ran to the sea as fast as her legs could carry her. The terror pounding inside her chest overrode the bursting need of oxygen for her lungs. Their boat was overturned in the surf. She counted boys. Only two boys! Jonathan? Noooooo…it cannot be true! Where is my Jonathan? Dear God nooooo! I am sorry…sorry…so sorry, Jonath—

“Shhh. Marianne, you are having a bad dream. Cara, I am here.” Lips kissed her forehead. Strong hands stroked her back.

“Darius?” She awoke quickly, panicked and sweating, trembling in his embrace.

“Yes, darling. It’s all right now. You were dreaming…again.”

Relaxing into his arms, she became aware of reality. “I am so sorry, Darius, for disturbing you. I don’t know what is wrong with me.”

“I think you are sad and missing those whom you have loved and lost.”

“…You are probably right, Darius.”

“Jonathan? You miss him?” His voice was low and clipped.

“You know about Jonathan?”

“It is his name you cry out in your sleep, Marianne. You loved him.”

“Very much. I loved Jonathan the most. He was my light…”

“I understand, Marianne, you grieve for him,” he whispered.

“I do, Darius.”

* * * *

Marianne started taking solitary walks along the shore. She tried to do it when Darius was busy for she knew he would not be pleased. He had made her promise she would not walk alone, and she was fully aware of her disobedience as she broke the oath she’d made.

This day was very much like the day it had happened. The weather typical of late summer, seemingly mild but easily changeable. Marianne had walked out on the rocky headland, purposefully leaving the dogs at home. She needed to be alone today.

This was a favorite spot of hers. Standing on the rocks, she could almost imagine she was on a tiny island, the foamy peaks crashing below. From this vantage point she could scan the ocean horizon and call to him. He was out there somewhere. This was the place she came when she wanted to remember him. His smile. The rakish grin. The hair and eyes that matched hers.

Marianne was so lost in her musings she didn’t take notice of the size of the approaching swell. It exploded into the ledge, blasting a vertical swath of water straight up and onto her. The sheer size of the oversize wave, combined with the rough force, knocked her down, hard. Her feet were blown out from underneath, and she toppled perilously close to the edge.

Her dress, now soaked, weighed heavy and pulled her over. Her feet caught on a ridge of rock, slippery with moss, or she would have gone down. She was inches from going into the churning water below! If she went in, the weight of her garments would sink her. She would drown. Marianne knew the grave danger she was in but eerily resigned herself if it was to be her fate. Taken by the sea…just like him…

And then she thought of Darius and what she needed to say to him. As she dangled there in the cold spray she felt a change. The emotion, the will, the driving need to save herself at all costs, came on her in a rush. She had reasons to live!

Frantic hands gripped for purchase on the sharp stones above her, grasping determinedly until finally gaining a handhold. The jagged rock cut into her skin, but she held on fiercely. She had to. Adrenaline fueled her determination, and slowly, inch by inch, she pulled herself up onto the flat of the headland.

Lying exhausted from the effort, she counted her blessings and regretted her carelessness. Thank you, dear God! Thank you…thank you…thank you!

Slowly Marianne rose and shakily took stock of her person. No permanent damage, it seemed. She was very lucky. Hoping she might be able to restore her appearance before Darius should find out what happened, Marianne made her way back to the house as quickly as she could.

She wondered how in the world she’d ever be able to explain the state of her hands, and the bruises that surely bloomed this very moment on her skin.

Chapter Fourteen