βI won't claim rights over your body because somebody placed a ring on your finger. I won't lock you in a cabin or stop you from leaving. And I won't demand affection you haven't freely given.β
Her lips parted.
Daniel continued.
βI have a small cabin. It's clean. There's a bedroom you can use, and I'll sleep elsewhere.β
Elizabeth stared.
βWhy would you do that?β
Daniel hesitated.
Then answered simply.
βBecause your father's cruelty doesn't have to become mine.β
For the first time that evening, Elizabeth began crying openly.
She tried to stop.
Couldn't.
Daniel remained several feet away.
He didn't touch her.
Didn't offer a hand she hadn't requested.
He simply waited.
Finally, she wiped her cheeks.
βWhat happens if I go with you?β
Daniel took a breath.
βWe'll decide what happens next.β
She looked toward him.
βAnd if I want to leave?β
βThen we'll work out a safe way for you to do it.β
Elizabeth studied his face.
The stables had made him seem ordinary.
A quiet, handsome servant she barely noticed.
Now, standing beneath the garden trees, he seemed like the only man in Silver Creek who understood that marriage could be an act of mutual choice rather than ownership.
She took a slow breath.
βI don't love you.β
Daniel nodded.
βI know.β
βI barely know you.β
βI know that too.β
She looked down.
Then whispered, βBut I believe you.β
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Finally, Elizabeth lifted her eyes.
βIf I agree tomorrow, it won't be because my father is right.β
Daniel's expression softened.
βI understand.β
βAnd it won't mean I belong to you.β
He nodded.
βNo.β
She swallowed.
βIt will mean I've chosen the least frightening door I can find.β
Daniel looked toward the illuminated mansion.
Then back at her.
βI'll do my best to make certain it opens somewhere better.β
Elizabeth stared.
Then, despite everything, a small smile appeared.
It was the first time she'd smiled since the engagement dinner.