Keeping my distance from this woman is impossible.

Not actually impossible. Putting the distance of a small town between us took only a short walk through the trees. But the time has come to return to the house and rest for the evening.

Each step I take toward her hopefully sleeping form brings my heart racing even faster.

So putting distance between us wasn't impossible, but putting her out of my mind? That is a much more difficult story. Thoughts of her consume me.

Even walking the entire estate twice, despite the sweat and exhaustion it has caused, has done absolutely nothing to rid me of her.

I kick at the dirt, sending a rock plummeting into the darkened pond. The light is so low now there is no way I can stay any longer. I have to go back inside and into the room I'll share with my... wife. Whose non-existent dress will surely be laying about with no concern to how it will affect me.

I begin reciting the poets to take my mind off everything. I need to get my head attached so we can get out of here in one piece. We can worry about her 'actually getting married' idea later. Though I admit the idea is tempting, she probably should know what she's working with here before she decides.

It doesn't take nearly long enough for me to traverse what's left of the path and pass through the corridor still lit by now-replaced candlelight.

The door stands strong, flickering lights dancing across the intricate carvings. I should knock, but I don't, remembering this is supposed to be my room.

I do close my eyes, though, until I get inside and turn my back to the room, opening my eyes to push the door closed.

"Catalina?" I ask.

Silence greets me.

"Catalina, are you here?"

Again, she doesn't answer. Slowly, I turn to face the wall, glancing out of the corner of my eye at the rest of the outer room.

Nothing but stillness. Good. Maybe I'll get some sleep. I loosen the fabric at my neck, pulling my overcoat off and draping it on the back of a chair. Soon, my boots and outerwear are discarded in favour of my sleeping clothes.

I snuff out the candle Catalina must have left lit for me and wander into the main area, choosing the largest couch and sinking down into the middle of it.

But it isn't just couch I've sat down on. It's a pile of soft fabric. Has Catalina left me a blanket? There's something so familiar about the feel of it, even in the darkness.

When I pull, it moves only a little before getting stuck. But the movement is enough to send the smell of her wafting around the whole room.

Catalina Juárez will be the end of me.

She's left her dress here to torture me as I suspected she would. I ball up the fabric and throw it onto the smaller settee, setting my aching sore body down on the couch once more and laying back.

And then, before my eyes can even drift closed, the door opens again.

I'm on my feet in seconds, reaching for something heavy to use as a weapon if necessary and racing to the door Catalina is resting behind. "Come no closer," I warn the shadowy figure in the hall.

"Marcos?" Catalina whispers. But she isn't behind me, she's in the corridor.

"What are you doing out there?" I ask, abandoning the small statue I've picked up and racing across the room, stubbing my toe on some type of table leg or carpet runner.

"I went to have someone sent for you," she says, hands clearly on her hips. She sets the candle on the sideboard and closes the door, turning to face me. "But they said you had returned."

The light robe she wears hides absolutely nothing and everything all at once. Her long curly locks are twisted at one side and held in place with a simple ribbon.

"I didn't anticipate you would be out so late," she says, twisting the tie of her robe in her hands. The bow slips out slowly as she does.

I grab her hands in mine, making her drop the edges of the rope before she undoes the robe — and me. "I didn't mean to worry you. I was just walking the grounds."

"I thought you might have left me," she admits, eyes floating down to her toes.

"I won't," I say in earnest, placing a kiss on the back of her hand. "I mean, not now."

"Oh," she says again. "Well, I'll just go to bed, then."

"You don't have to."

I'm so tired I might fall down.

"We're both tired," she says. "We can address everything in the morning."

"As you wish," I reply, dipping into a bow inexplicably. "I apologize for my delay this evening. I did not mean to alarm you."

"It's no matter," she says. "I am well. I will see you in the morning."

"Of course."

I step away from the door and in the dim light, I find my way back to the couch, resting my hand on the back and navigating my way to the front.

"What are you doing?" Catalina says from just behind me when my tired body hits the couch.

"Sleeping?" I say. "Or, that's what I was hoping to do shortly."

"I am sleeping here," she says, pulling her robe around her, arms protecting her abdomen as she does.

"You are sleeping in the bed," I demand, not moving.

"I am sleeping here." She stands taller now, letting go of the robe and placing her hands onto her hips.

"I don't want to fight about this right now," I sigh, scrubbing my hand down my face.

"Then don't. You're exhausted, and I need you to get me through tomorrow. I'm much smaller. I'll be fine out here."

Her delicate hand lands on my shoulder. I still haven't moved.

"Go," she says simply. The voice sends a shiver through me. She sounds just like she always does in my dreams. "Go rest, Marcos."

"Come with me," I say, in my exhausted state. Her hand pulls back suddenly and I realize I've said it out loud, not just thought it. "I'm sorry," I add quickly. "I shouldn't have—"

"Rest, Marcos," she says, but her smile flickers along with the low candle-light, refusing to reach her eyes.

The stubborn embarrassed part of me takes over and I lay down on the couch, pulling my feet up and resting my head in my hands.

"Move or I shall move you," she says. "I may be small, but I'm stronger than I look."

A low groan emits from my throat, completely against my will. "I do not doubt that, Catalina. But I am just as tired as I look. Please let me rest."

"I will. Once you go in there." I can't see her with my eyes closed, but her arm swishes by, like she's pointing to the bedroom.

I can't go in there.

"Fine," she says, making good on her threat from last night. "I'll sleep here, then. Completely your choice what you'd like to do with that information."

I know I should do something with that information, but everything is heavy and a deep exhaustion has settled. There's no moving now, even if I should wish it. I try to tell her this, but I'm not sure it comes out coherently.

The next thing I know, my eyes flutter open to a bright streak of sunlight illuminating my face, Catalina's dress bundled up under my head and a blanket draped over my body. I blink away the sleep and find Catalina curled up on a nearby couch. Her eyes stare at me and she picks at her fingernails.

"Did you sleep?" I ask.

"Some," she admits. "You?"

"Not enough," I groan, stretching my sore muscles. My walk around the grounds had some effect on me after all.

"I know. You were restless."

"You should have gone to bed," I say, trying to sit up. It's immediately obvious that's a bad idea, so I pull the blanket over me and focus on Catalina. Not helping.

"The room is too large," she says with a shrug. "It felt lonely and expansive and I just... didn't feel..."

"Safe?" I offer.

An almost imperceptible nod gives me all the answer I need and a silence settles over us.

"I don't like being alone," she whispers, not meeting my eyes.

"No?" I should have a better reply than that, but I don't.

"I've never liked being alone. I'm always with friends or family or a lady of some kind. Never unchaperoned. Always accompanied." She sighs and brings her eyes to meet mine. "It's lonely in there."

"But out here is better?" I ask, rising to sit, the blanket still covering my shocking lack of attire.

A sad smile splits her face. She licks her lip and looks around. "Not really," she answers with a shrug. "But I thought if I wasn't going to sleep, you might as well be comfortable."

The sound of shoes clinking against the ground alerts us to an important fact: the house is starting to wake.

"I asked after the train schedules last night," Catalina says, picking a small piece of paper up off the table and completely changing the topic of discussion. "I think we should leave before breakfast."

"What do you mean, we should leave before breakfast?" This was decidedly not the plan less than eight hours ago.

"There's an early train leaving Madrid for the coast this morning. If we leave before breakfast, there's next to no chance of anyone recognizing us and sending word. It's the best chance we have of getting out of here and escaping them."

"And then what?" I ask. "We get on a train as the count and countess of Córdoba and hope we make it to the coast?"

"Yes," she says. "And then we can figure out the details from there."

In the low light, I can't make out her meaning. "Does this mean you do not wish to be wed to me?" I ask. "Because if so, I think it may be better to part ways now. It will be harder to track us individually. At least one of us will probably make it to safety."

"A woman traveling unchaperoned through the countryside near Madrid?" she scoffs and stands, pacing the three steps it takes to tower over me. "Do you have any idea how the world works?"

"I just—"

"You only want to help me if I'm willing to marry you?" she challenges. "It's fine. I don't know why I expected anything more."

"I didn't mean that," I protest. "I just meant—"

"What could you possibly have meant?" She turns back to face me, hands on her hips. "What else could you have meant when you indicated you would ship me off on my own?"

"I didn't—" I run my hand through my hair and stand to face her. "I just meant—"

"What?" Her whisper seethes now. "Tell me."

"I like you," I grit out. "I want to marry you. For real. For everything that it means. And..." I trail off. She's gone completely silent and still.

A moment passes. Neither of us moves except for the rise and fall of her chest.

"You..." she starts. "You want to marry ... me?"

"I believe I've said that several times at this point, Catalina."

"But it's not just to get your dad to stop? It's because..."

"I like you, yes."

"No." She shakes her head. "No, that doesn't make any sense. I'm no one."

"What gave you the impression I cared about your connections?"

"Your connections!" she almost shouts. "You're friends with the queen and you want to marry me? Catalina Juárez."

"Yes." I don't know how else to tell her. I'm sure there are a hundred better ways than this one, but I can't go back now.

"Oh."

Not the answer I was looking for, admittedly. 

~ * ~ Author's Note ~ * ~ 

Today I have two suggestions for you! Want a young adult fantasy story? Try "Away to Realania" by AJ_Ortega . 

A lonely boy named Angelio encounters a gateway in the forest to the enchanted world of Realania; there, he's promised a solution to his problem in the human world--but all is not what it seems.

What is "Boots of Booty" by guyworthyauthor ? It's sort of like if Wednesday and Enid were lovers, but also dungeons and dragons characters, and the dungeon master keeps trying to kill them off.