the Villainess they took for granted

Chapter 43: Chapter 43: Not an Accident

Marian woke up determined not to think about Cassian.

It was an excellent plan.

Reasonable.

Mature.

Sensible.

Unfortunately, it lasted approximately three seconds.

The moment she opened her eyes, the previous evening returned.

The dance.

The hand.

The blush.

Dear heavens.

The blush.

Marian groaned and pulled a pillow over her face.

Because apparently her dignity had abandoned her completely.

Wonderful.

Just wonderful.

For several minutes she remained exactly where she was.

Refusing to move.

Refusing to think.

Refusing to acknowledge reality.

Reality remained stubbornly present anyway.

Which was rude.

Eventually she forced herself out of bed.

Dressed.

Prepared for the day.

And firmly informed herself that she would behave normally.

A perfectly achievable goal.

An entirely realistic one.

A goal that immediately failed the moment she entered the breakfast room.

Because she saw Cassian.

Instantly.

Immediately.

Before she had even consciously looked for him.

The realization was deeply concerning.

Marian looked away at once.

Far too quickly.

Far too suspiciously.

Wonderful.

Across the room, Cassian looked up from a conversation.

Their eyes met for the briefest second.

Then both immediately looked elsewhere.

As though they had been caught doing something improper.

Which they had not.

Technically.

The distinction offered little comfort.

Marian took her seat.

Determined to focus on breakfast.

Determined to focus on literally anything else.

Unfortunately, another familiar figure approached her table.

Adrian.

For a moment, her heart jumped.

A stupid reaction.

An automatic one.

Years old.

Impossible to erase overnight.

"Good morning."

His voice was warm.

Gentle.

Familiar.

The sort of voice that had once made everything feel safe.

Marian looked up.

And for a brief moment, everything else disappeared.

Because this was what she had wanted.

Wasn’t it?

His attention.

His effort.

His choice.

"Good morning."

Adrian smiled.

A real smile.

Not distracted.

Not absent.

Present.

Entirely present.

"Did you sleep well?"

The question was ordinary.

Simple.

Yet Marian felt something twist unexpectedly inside her chest.

Because a few weeks ago she would have been absurdly happy.

A few weeks ago this would have been enough.

A few weeks ago she would have spent the entire day replaying the conversation.

Now—

Now she simply answered.

"Well enough."

Adrian nodded.

Then remained.

For several moments.

Actually remained.

Making conversation.

Asking about the previous evening.

Telling her a story involving one of the visiting lords and an unfortunate misunderstanding involving hunting dogs.

The conversation was easy.

Comfortable.

Familiar.

And Marian hated the realization that followed.

Because she enjoyed it.

Of course she did.

This was Adrian.

She loved him.

That hadn’t changed.

Yet somehow—

somehow—

the warmth did not erase the dance.

The realization unsettled her.

Because it should have.

Shouldn’t it?

Adrian was still Adrian.

The man she had loved for years.

The man she had imagined spending her life with.

Yet even while speaking to him, another memory lingered stubbornly at the edge of her thoughts.

Dark eyes.

A ridiculous joke.

A laugh.

Marian immediately pushed the thought away.

The effort failed.

Spectacularly.

Wonderful.

Just wonderful.

A servant approached Adrian moments later.

Whispered something.

The Crown Prince’s expression shifted immediately.

Duty.

Responsibility.

The kingdom.

Always waiting.

Adrian sighed.

"I’m sorry."

The apology came automatically.

Familiar.

Practiced.

"I need to handle something."

Of course he did.

Marian smiled.

Also automatically.

Also familiar.

"It’s fine."

And it was.

That was the problem.

For the first time in years, she actually meant it.

Adrian looked relieved.

Then departed.

Leaving Marian alone with an uncomfortable realization.

She had spent years fighting for moments like that.

And somehow they no longer felt sufficient.

The thought haunted her for the rest of breakfast.

The day’s activity involved a ride through the northern trails.

Apparently somebody had decided that nobles enjoyed horses before noon.

Marian strongly disagreed.

Unfortunately, nobody had consulted her.

The group departed shortly after breakfast.

Dozens of riders moving through forest paths bathed in morning sunlight.

The scenery was beautiful.

Marian would have appreciated it more if she weren’t busy attempting to avoid a certain duke.

The attempt went poorly.

Mostly because avoiding someone required not noticing them.

And Marian kept noticing him.

The dark horse.

The dark hair.

The irritatingly familiar profile.

Wonderful.

At some point she became distracted by the landscape.

At another point several groups shifted positions.

At yet another point she found herself riding beside Cassian.

Again.

The realization arrived simultaneously for both of them.

Neither looked particularly pleased.

Which made it worse.

For several moments neither spoke.

Then:

"This is becoming suspicious."

Marian blinked.

"What is?"

Cassian gestured vaguely between them.

"The frequency."

"The frequency?"

"Of this."

The gesture repeated.

Marian stared.

Then immediately understood.

And immediately wished she hadn’t.

"You’re being ridiculous."

"Am I?"

"Yes."

Cassian considered this.

"People are going to think we’re doing it deliberately."

The words should have amused her.

Instead they struck dangerously close to the truth.

Because the uncomfortable reality was that neither of them had been trying very hard to avoid it.

Marian opened her mouth.

Prepared to deny everything.

Prepared to say something clever.

Prepared to say literally anything else.

Instead—

"We are."

Silence.

Complete silence.

The words had escaped before she could stop them.

Before she could think.

Before common sense could intervene.

Wonderful.

Just wonderful.

Cassian stared at her.

Marian stared right back.

Neither spoke.

Because there was absolutely nothing to say.

The truth had already been said.

And somehow that made it worse.

Then Cassian laughed.

Once.

Softly.

Not mockingly.

Almost disbelievingly.

The sound broke the tension.

Slightly.

Not entirely.

Never entirely.

"You know," he said, "most people lie when given the opportunity."

Marian groaned.

"I hate you."

"No, you don’t."

The answer arrived immediately.

Dangerously immediately.

Marian looked away.

Toward the trees.

Toward the path.

Toward literally anything except him.

Because the infuriating man sounded far too certain.

Beside her, Cassian remained quiet for a moment.

Then:

"Thank you."

Marian blinked.

"What?"

Cassian shrugged.

A small movement.

Almost casual.

Almost.

"For being honest."

The answer should not have affected her.

Yet somehow it did.

Because very few people ever thanked Marian for honesty.

Most people thanked her for politeness.

For grace.

For diplomacy.

For being agreeable.

Cassian, apparently, preferred honesty.

Another dangerous thing to know about someone.

The realization settled between them.

Quiet.

Unspoken.

Yet present.

The trail stretched onward through the forest.

Sunlight filtered through the trees.

The group continued ahead.

And for the first time since the dance—

neither of them could honestly pretend their growing closeness was an accident.

Because Marian had just admitted the truth.

And worse—

she wasn’t entirely certain she regretted it.

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