A great howl of denial writhed in his belly. Not if he had anything to say about it.
So where did that leave his feelings for Morwenna? He’d pledged his love, and he’d stayed true to his word for nearly four agonizing years. But in all that time, he’d only seen her twice.
Was it possible that while the Morwenna of his dreams remained alive in his heart, the real Morwenna turned into a stranger?
“I loved her so much,” he said slowly, as the babbling muddle in his head faded to allow the voice of reason to speak.
“I know you did, old chum.” Silas leaned forward and linked his hands between his spread knees. “It was deuced hard watching you break your heart over her.”
Garson’s brows lowered, noting that they both spoke of his great love in the past tense. When the devil had that happened? “I’m not a fickle man.”
Silas’s snort expressed derisive amusement. “Anything but.”
“She’s beautiful.”
“Yes.”
Garson blinked to clear the haze obscuring his vision. Then he blinked again, as excruciating self-knowledge struggled up toward the light. Good God, how utterly he’d botched his life. And he didn’t know if he could ever fix it. “You know, I’ll always remember her fondly, but I don’t think I’m in love with her anymore.”
“No.”
“You don’t sound surprised,” he said, with a hint of resentment.
Silas’s gaze remained unwavering. “I think you’re in love with your wife.”
Garson scowled at his friend. “You just want everyone to have a happy marriage like yours. You’re indulging in wishful thinking.”
“Am I?”
Was he? Garson slumped back against his chair as the full magnitude of his idiocy struck him like boulders falling off a mountainside. “Oh, hell.”
Silas sat back, as if he’d finally got the answer he sought. “I know Jane’s in love with you.”
She had been. And he was in love with her. Madly. Desperately. Forever.
It all seemed so simple, now he finally understood. For too long, he’d been blind to the truth in his heart.
Garson had loved Jane for weeks, probably since he’d married her, at least since their unconventional honeymoon. Before she left, she’d tried to get it into his thick skull that they were the perfect match. And they were. She was just the woman for him. Smart. Good. Passionate. Open-hearted. And brave. Much braver than he’d been.
How cruel he’d been to her, how thoughtless, how utterly self-centered. He cringed to recall his categorical rejection of her love, when she must have needed every ounce of courage to confess how she felt.
Devil curse him, he’d hurt her so badly. “I’ve made such a bloody hash of everything.”
Silas sighed. “So I gather.”
Guilt and despair battered him. “How can she ever forgive me?”
“No question you’ve been a fool. Love turns every man into a nincompoop.”
At a loss about his next move, Garson stared at his friend. “What in Hades will I do if it’s too late?”
Silas stood and crossed to set an encouraging hand on his shoulder. “First find out if she’ll give you the time of day.”
“But I’ve been such an utter bastard,” he said bleakly.
Silas’s smile was wry. “Then say you’re sorry, tell her you love her, and ask her to give you another chance.”
“What if she won’t have me? I wouldn’t blame her.”