Runaway Fiancés | ONC 2023 (Complete)

Six - Marcos

How is it harder to sleep on a large comfortable bed than it was on the floor? Every time Catalina breathes or rolls over it's like the bed tries to pull me into her. All night I settled on the very edge of it to ensure my distance from her, but it's futile.

The clank of hammers on metal are the only indication we're on a train, serving as a constant reminder that I'll never see her again after we get off it in the morning. And the more I get to know her, the less I want that to happen.

No matter how hard I try to sleep, my awareness of her keeps me alert and on edge. Even when I do manage to drift into a sleep, it only lasts until I find myself rolling into the middle of the bed, enveloped in the scent of Catalina.

Sometime just before dawn, during probably my thirtieth attempt at sleep, the train jerks to a start and Catalina rolls into my chest. It's a blessing I was here to stop her rolling off onto the floor. Her dark curls fall over her face and her arm finds my chest.

I should move. I should roll her back a safe distance and remove myself from the temptation of her floral essence. I should forget I've even seen what's under her veil and leave her alone. The last thing she needs after this ordeal is yet another unwanted advance from the likes of someone with only his name and position to recommend him.

And yet I do none of those things, closing my eyes and leaning into her, allowing the imaginary world of the train to envelop me: a world where she's my wife.

Finally, wrapped in her, I fall asleep.

~ * ~

I wake to a start as the door rattles off its hinges with three loud knocks. "Central Madrid stop approaching. All passengers must disembark at this station." A deep voice calls through the door.

"Thank you," Catalina says from beside me.

"My pleasure, your ladyship."

Her giggle is bells in the wind, breathing life as she says, "I've never imagined myself to be much of a lady, but my father would be pleased to hear the address."

"Is he going to require you to marry when you return?"

"I've no intention of returning. I assume he'll have me declared lost or disown me and lay everything upon my sister. She was extremely jealous of the match when it was declared, so perhaps she'll get everything that was meant for me."

"It is a shame that you couldn't just pass the responsibility and the earnings to her without having to escape onto a moving train and pretend to be the wife of a man you knew nothing about."

"You looked like the kind of honourable man who would rescue a woman in trouble. I'm glad it was you who walked in to the dining car at that moment."

A delicate red blush spreads across her cheeks and she ducks her head into the pillows to hide behind her hair.

My hand works of its own accord, brushing her curls away from her face so I can see her eyes. "I'm glad it was me who walked in, too."

The silence that stretches between us is deafening. Her eyes search mine as though looking for the answer to a question she hasn't asked. Her curls are soft in my hands, spinning around my fingers like the thoughts through her head.

"Would you stay with me?" she asks, so low I'm sure I imagined it.

"Pardon?"

"Never mind," she laughs, shaking her head and pushing back.

Her hand slides through mine and I grab on to whatever I can, unwilling to let her leave without admitting, "I'd like to stay with you."

It completely slips out, more honest than I'd hoped to be. "But I don't know what that would mean for me or for you. I might have nothing. My father isn't known for his kindness and understanding. There's a very real chance he'll leave me without a great deal of my wealth until his death or the death of my uncle."