B-ronken-R-ing 159...

***

As soon as the carriage door closed behind them, Cárcel pulled Inés onto his lap, his lips seeking every part of her that wasn't covered by her dress. The streetlights of San Talaria Road illuminated them dimly through the partially closed curtains, flickering with the motion of the carriage.

Inés's face remained impassive, staring at the carriage wall, even as his kisses descended lower along her neck. She asked, "Are you really going to leave?"

Cárcel paused, lifting his gaze to her face. He could see her elegant eyebrows, her slightly scrunched up nose, her plush lips and delicate chin, all illuminated by the trail of light peeking through the curtain.

He felt a smile bubbling up as he watched her slightly disgruntled expression. Inés Valeztena, pouting? He knew that if she sensed his amusement, her expression would harden immediately, and she might even order him to open the carriage door this instant and leap out. So, he held back the sweet nothings on the tip of his tongue and raised his hand to caress her chin. It was his way of indulging in her unbearably adorable sullenness while preserving her dignity.

But she pulled away slightly from his touch, taking his silence as an answer. Her action showed she would not argue or become irritated like she did at the party. She would not persuade him or get angry with him, but neither would she allow him to touch her any way he wanted.

Gone was the blissful vision of her smiling joyfully as she ran into his arms, her back to the twinkling lights of the party. Yet, the expression she wore now was lovely in its own right. Though her impassive look seemed no different from usual, the reason behind it was profound. Her adorable pout, coupled with the letter she sent summoning him to Mendoza, filled him with delight.

As he gazed at her, captivated, she frowned at him.

The irritation in her eyes was pretty, too, but even more beautiful was the reluctance to let him go, which she had failed to hide completely. He couldn't believe that she was unhappy about him not being able to stay longer. That Inés Valeztena had failed to hide this emotion was incredible.

If he could stop time, he would do so to play with her pouting cheeks without her knowledge and take in this reality for as long as he could. He would kiss and nip at her lips until they were raw and tease her with all kinds of undignified whispers in her ear. Though he wished for Inés to always be comfortable and happy wherever she was, a part of him was secretly overjoyed by her clear distress-because it was a kind of proof.

"Should I stay?" Cárcel asked impulsively.

"I know you're leaving anyway," Inés muttered apathetically, as if she didn't expect him to change his mind.

But even as she did, she leisurely leaned over to rest her forehead against his shoulder, which he found utterly charming. Despite her defiant nature and disapproval of the situation, she made no move to remove herself from his lap, knowing that they didn't have much more time together. It was as though she didn't want to waste any more time with petty bickering, silently savoring their precious moments.

Cárcel wrapped Inés in a tight embrace. "What do I do when I want to hold you closer, but you're already in my arms?" he mumbled as though in a daze.

"That makes no sense," she replied coolly.

He tightened his hold. Normally, she would have snapped at him to let her breathe, but Inés simply wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed back. He knew this small gesture spoke louder than words.

"If you wish to hold me in a tighter embrace, I can always hold you close like this, Cárcel," she whispered into his ear, her voice like sunlight dancing on the ripples of the ocean they could see from their small house.

"I am deeply moved," he whispered without a hint of playfulness before placing a kiss near her ear.

She mumbled, "You practically urged me to do this."

The carriage rattled on as they sat in each other's arms in peaceful silence. As he stroked her back and fiddled with her hair, he could feel her fingers delicately caressing his neck.

They explored each other slowly and gently, as if they had all the time in the world together. There was no urgency or lustful movement. Simply holding each other seemed more than enough.

"To be honest, Inés..."

"Yes?"

"I've missed you more."

"I know."

Inés raised her head and lightly bit his jaw. When he claimed once more to have missed her far more than she could ever miss him, she bit his lower lip.

They chuckled for a moment before he swallowed up her laughter with a firm kiss.

To be honest, Inés, I still cannot believe that I make you feel this way. I still cannot fully believe that you've missed me, that you've wished for me to come and see you, that you've been waiting for me, that you would want someone like me...

The more he pondered the astonishing fact that she desired him, the more his cold, rational mind rebelled. It was so overwhelming that he would sit there in a daze, and at times, it all sounded fundamentally impossible.

How could she want him? How was that possible? He felt like these doubts had been repeating in his head even before he was born, as though he had despaired for a very long time. He found an unfamiliar sense of helplessness inside of him that seemed to have been there forever. Whenever he entertained these suspicions, a strange sense of déjà vu overwhelmed him.

A little voice in the back of his mind always seemed to remind him that he could never mean anything to Inés Valeztena. That he had never been of any value to her whatsoever.

Cárcel thrust his tongue into her mouth as if trying to swallow her whole. He needed proof that his intrusive thoughts were all wrong. He feared she might fade away at any moment, even as he had his arms wrapped around her tightly. He wanted this strange feeling to disappear, to confirm that she was his. His wife. Just as he had been hers for a very long time. As though he was her slave who would always be at her feet.

In a world where she would never spare him a glance, he had loved her so desperately...

And now, she also...

This time...

It was more like a whisper entering his mind rather than a thought from within.

Cárcel suddenly jolted away from her, like someone waking up from a brief doze. He was completely out of breath, his vision blurry.

Just then, the carriage entered the gates of Escalante Manor, and more light streamed through the gap in the curtain.

Inés looked at him in wide-eyed shock. "Cárcel?"

He couldn't say anything.

"Cárcel," she tried again.

He unclenched his fists, which he didn't remember clenching. Inés, who had practically been trapped in his arms, didn't seem at all relieved by his relaxing a little. She put her hands on his arms to straighten up and look at him, her touch full of worry as she brushed her fingers over his bulging veins.

"Are you tired?" she asked.

"Not at all," he replied firmly.

She didn't seem convinced. She placed her hand on his forehead and then on hers, comparing their temperatures, her face showing clear confusion.

He felt like chuckling. "I don't have a fever, Inés."

"I don't believe you."

"You're worrying over nothing," he said gently.

"If you acted more rationally, I wouldn't have to worry so needlessly. You are such a handful..."

Just a few months ago, he had thought that such simple gestures and words would be enough to sustain him for life. Having her think of and worry for him, even just a little, seemed like enough to keep him going.

At one point, even that had been too much to ask for. Because he loved her. He was willing to do every tiresome and trivial task for her, as long as she accepted him. He had hoped that she would simply not reject him, even if she never liked him back. He simply didn't want her to despise his love for her. He had imagined that nothing else mattered so long as they could be together in such a way. And if she one day appreciated his love for her, his life couldn't be more perfect, he had thought.

But his damned selfishness knew no bounds. Cárcel held back the words of self-loathing that threatened to spill out.

Inés Valeztena liked him now. She didn't hide her growing affection for him, and even did things at times he couldn't possibly have imagined. She told him that she missed him, showed him-and only him -the most guileless smiles, and ran into his arms as thought no one else mattered.

And yet, he wanted more, because the more of Inés he had, the more anxious he became.

He wanted her to stay at his side forever and continue to love him without ever getting tired of him and leaving. Yet he was still afraid of the possibility that she wouldn't love him in the end, and that he wouldn't matter to her anymore.

The thought that he would never dare to hope for Inés's love was a farce. He now desperately desired for her to love him. Even though she had never shown so much of her feelings for him as she was doing now, even though he now possessed so much more of her affection than he could have ever imagined, he dared to want more. He wanted something he didn't have to right to.

He looked at the woman in his eyes like a beggar on the streets longing for a woman he could never dare to even talk to. Even as he saw how her eyes were fixed on him, it felt as though she was nothing more than an apparition. As though she were looking for something other than him, perhaps a more complete memory.

A sudden, splitting headache pierced his skull, but Cárcel endured it without showing any sign of pain. Memories he couldn't quite see clearly rushed into his mind like a thick mist. Familiar surroundings and scenes he had never witnessed himself.

A sense of déjà vu overwhelmed him again, starting with memories of his grandfather's hunting grounds and the assassin. Shards of brief memories that felt like his own but also unfamiliar passed through his mind. Memories? He couldn't understand how things he had never experienced could be memories.

Cárcel gently wrapped a few locks of her wavy hair, which spilled down her back, around his fingers.

He could see memories of her in Mendoza like had never seen before. Her hair done up perfectly by the maids, a brightly colored dress that showed off her naked shoulders, her beautiful face covered in make up, and her expression, whose defenseless sincerity was ironically visible through the mask of perfection.

"Are you listening to me, Cárcel?" Inés asked.

He simply stared at her wordlessly.

"Why are you staring at me like that?"

"Just because... you're so pretty," he muttered.

And yet, he was familiar with this Inés, too. That's right, I know that Inés. As soon as he realized the truth, a chill went up his arms from his fingertips.

He knew now.

He knew of a time when this lovely face had been overcast with a forlorn expression and when these sparkling green eyes had coldly observed the world. How aloof she had been, armed with a domineering smile and a perfectly made up appearance. The sight of her keeping her back straight and gritting her teeth to resist running away from it all.

He knew of those long years he had spent watching her, those years that had felt like he was burning to death slowly.

The words he had once spoken to him flashed through his mind.

"I feared I might utter something I shouldn't. That I'd make a grievous mistake. I feared I might ruin everything and regret it again. That's why. Maybe it was to shut myself up, not you. At least, all of this uncertainty and confusion I feel is yours, Escalante. So, please, Cárcel, just a little longer... Once I'm able to put it all into words, then... Then I'll tell you everything. Everything I know. One day."

The carriage came to a halt. The coachman said something outside, but Cárcel couldn't hear him as he had his hand over his mouth, his breathing ragged.

Inés gently placed her hands on his cheeks to raise his face. "Cárcel, you're cold to the touch... What's the matter?" Her gaze wavered anxiously, and her eyes full of worry were fixed solely on him.

This was the kind of face the Cárcel Escalante of that time had never known. Her, Inés Valeztena, looking at him, worrying about him, and fussing over him. Her face splitting into a relaxed smile after giving him an exasperated glare, her solemn and rigid expression fading away as he caught her off guard. Her hand stroking him. Her wavering gaze. Her affectionate voice. The way she called his name.

Everything he knew about her now, the lovely Inés he was so familiar with, was something he never got to know back then.

He sorted through his vague memories for the Inés that had been familiar to him then. The woman that never spared him a glance. The way she never called him by name again once they were grown. How they never shared a single moment of friendly banter. How they she and he had never been a pair.

He recalled Oscar's indifferent expression as he had talked to them at the evening party. Past his cold exterior, there had been a strange fire in his eyes. Then he recalled the Inés who had once been the crown princess say to him, "Did he... did Oscar put you, the duke, up to such a distasteful errand?"

The forest surrounding the evening party took over this memory. Then, he suddenly recalled seeing Inés crumpled on the ground in the darkness of that very garden. He also remembered how Inés had said the words "this time" to him during their hunting trip.

"I am giving you an excuse. I know it's selfish of me. I'm sorry. But this time, I recognized you, so... So please forgive me one more time, Escalante."

His breath caught in his throat like a rock.

Does Inés remember everything? Did she remember from the start when she took my hand?

"Cárcel, look at me. Please? Seeing you like this frightens me. Your body is so cold..."

His words caught in his throat.

I still can't quite see you in my memories, Inés, so please tell me... tell me why you despaired. What Oscar was to you. What that painter meant to you.

What it was that drove you to that cliff. Why I felt like dying whenever I watched you. I don't understand any of it. So please, Inés Valeztena. Damn it! Why did you...

"Does it hurt so much that you can't speak? Is that what it is?" Inés continued to ask him, looking even more worried now.

"I'm fine," he finally managed to say.

"You don't look fine at all. Let's get out of this carriage. I'll call for a physician, and-"

"I'm fine, Inés. Don't look so worried," he told her.

"We have to call for the servants."

"You just have to stay in my arms for a moment."

"Cárcel."

"If you do, it'll all be better, so please..."

She stared at him in silence.

"Please stay for a moment, Inés."

Why did you choose me, when you never spared me a glance before?