"Where have you been?" I asked as we walked through the town centre hand in hand. "All this time while you were gone?"
Saturday crowds filled the streets around us. Families wandering between shops carrying paper bags, children darting ahead of exhausted parents, the occasional sound of laughter carrying through the crisp afternoon air. It all felt strangely normal considering the man beside me had once commanded Roman legions, legions that these people have only heard of through their history books.
Pippa had already left for her mother's by the time Marcus and I finally emerged from my bedroom hours later, after a few rounds of...um...getting reacquainted with each other.
"There were matters I needed to settle before I came back to you," Marcus said. His gaze drifted briefly toward a father lifting a laughing toddler into his arms. Something softened in his expression at the sight before it disappeared again. "I did not wish to become a burden to you. To have you caring for me when it should be the other way around."
I tightened my hold on his hand slightly. "Where were you?"
"With Samuel," he replied. "At first, I asked Phillippa to bring me to her father. I needed distance. Time to think clearly." His eyes shifted toward me then. "Do not be angry with her. She only honored my request not to tell you where I was."
"I wasn't angry," I said quietly, though the ache of it still lingered somewhere inside me.
Marcus nodded once. "I needed to decide whether I would return to my world...or remain in yours."
The words settled heavily between us.
"And Garrick?" I asked carefully.
His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
"I learned he had been released," he said. "With the influence his family possesses, I could not risk harm turning his attention toward you again."
His thumb brushed once against the back of my hand. "So long as I remained uncertain of my future, I would not place you in danger alongside me."
I swallowed, glancing up at him. "You were protecting me."
"I was trying to," he corrected quietly. "Though I find I am less capable of staying away from you than I once believed."
"You don't know what happened to him?" I asked.
"If you mean that hound," Marcus said coolly, "then no."
His gaze drifted briefly toward a family exiting one of the shops nearby.
A woman carrying her shopping bags as she walked up to her husband, laughing whilst balancing a toddler against his hip. Something unreadable crossed his expression as he watched them reunite before disappearing back into the Saturday crowd.
"But men like Garrick rarely vanish without purpose," he continued. "Silence seldom means surrender. More often, it means they are waiting."
A chill settled uneasily in my chest.
"They still want you to go back," I said quietly as we continued down the street. I tried to keep my tone light, conversational, though the sight of him watching that family lingered painfully in my mind. "Your world, I mean."
Marcus stopped walking.
Before I could react, he turned me gently toward him, his hands settling firmly against my shoulders. The noise of the town seemed to dull around us instantly beneath the weight of his attention.
"We have shared a bed several times now," he said plainly.
Heat rushed immediately to my face.
God.
It wasn't as though I was inexperienced. As a nurse, I've seen things more than anyone could comprehend, but still. This was different. This was my personal...thing.
"Yes," I answered carefully, pretending not to understand where he was leading.
His gaze sharpened slightly, like he saw straight through the attempt.
"You could be carrying my child."
And there it was.
The words struck me so suddenly my breath caught.
Around us, people continued walking past, laughing, shopping, living ordinary lives entirely unaware that the man standing in front of me was discussing the possibility of children like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"You don't have to worry about that, Marcus," I said quickly, taking a step back. "I took precautions. We should get going."
I turned before he could answer, pretending the conversation had never happened at all.
"There's a restaurant further down," I continued, gesturing vaguely ahead of us. "You should probably try proper English food at some point. Though honestly, I don't know how you'd survive things like fish and chips or shepherd's pie—"
"Elena."
His hand caught my arm gently, turning me back toward him, but the movement tugged at my injured shoulder hard enough for the pain to shoot through me.
I winced sharply.
Marcus released me immediately, guilt flashing across his face so quickly it almost startled me.
"Forgive me," he said at once, jaw tightening. "Did I hurt you?"
I looked away, rubbing lightly at my shoulder. "It's fine," I muttered. "I'm fine."
"Elena."
The way he said my name this time was quieter. More careful.
I let out a breath.
"I'm not ready for children, Marcus," I admitted, heat creeping back into my face despite myself. God, this was mortifying. I didn't think that I'd still have to explain modern contraception in the middle of a crowded town centre with a Roman general.
This was certainly not how I imagined my Saturday night going.
"With all the medical advancements we have now," I continued, trying to sound calmer than I felt, "women...couples...we can choose when to have children. Or whether we want them at all."
Marcus went silent as he pondered my words.
His gaze searched mine with an intensity that made my chest tighten all over again, as though he was trying to understand a world that operated so differently from the one he came from.
"In my time," he said slowly, "such matters were rarely left to choice."
"I know."
A faint crease appeared between his brows. "But you fear I would demand this of you."
The directness of it caught me off guard.
"I—" I stopped, then sighed. "No. Not demand." My eyes dropped briefly to the ground before lifting back to his. "I just...don't want you imagining a future for us that I'm not ready for yet."
Something softened in his expression then.
He stepped closer, not enough to crowd me, but enough that his voice no longer had to compete with the noise of the street.
"Elena," he said quietly, "I spoke of it because the thought did not displease me."
My breath caught.
"But neither would I force your life into a shape you do not desire." His hand lifted carefully this time, brushing lightly against the side of my face. "You are not a vessel to secure my legacy. If there is to be a future between us, then it shall be one we choose together."
And somehow, that tenderness undid me far more than his possessiveness ever could.