“Do you ever wonder why I never

propositioned you?” Sage asked, the anger in his soul making him lash out. “I’ve been with many women. They call me the Merriweather Rake, did you know?” He laughed at the absurd moniker the ton had dubbed him. “Yet you are the only one I’ve never seduced.”

She flinched.

He thought the pain spreading across her face would make him feel just in his cause. He needed to push her away. From the look on her face, he succeeded. Instead of the satisfaction he thought it might bring, he felt only pain.

Pain from her sadness, her suffering.

“You are a good man, Sage,” she said with a slight tremor in her voice, the only sign she was affected by his cruel words. “Do not fool yourself.”

She stood and walked away.

The lavender scent faded. Sage rubbed a hand over his eyes, trying to block the image of her sadness from his mind.

Had he done the right thing?

This curse confined Marianne to a select few. Essentially, she was forced to speak with him, spend time with him, even just for the pure sake of her sanity. What choice did she have when no one else could hear or see her?

Marianne was not to blame for the fact that Sage’s feelings regarding her were changing, that when he looked at her he saw not a child with gangly limbs, but a woman full-grown. One who had become a close friend. And that he desired their friendship to grow into something much more…intimate.