Raw Beauty

"...Then."

Delfina spoke carefully, as if she already understood the truth of it. Rather than scold himself for bringing her somewhere unsuitable, Cesare watched her study his face, then turned his gaze toward the sky.

"It's a fine day for resting outdoors."

He was not, after all, a true suitor begging for a single meeting with desperate hope.

Marriage—how absurd. This is a connection I never meant to take responsibility for in the end.

Marriage? The word drifted through his mind just as a gentle breeze passed between them. Shadows of pale green leaves, their veins translucent in the sunlight, trembled with it. Sunlight shattered and spilled down through the strands of hair she tucked behind her ear.

The moment Delfina's gaze settled on him, Cesare's breath caught short. It was nothing, really—and yet her eyes seemed to linger so long that he found himself wanting to look away.

"But today is Mr. Appiano's day, isn't it?"

The unbidden memory of her warmth, the temperature of her breath—that was only the fault of this damnable season, heat transferring onto the skin. He clenched his fists until his fingertips went numb. He did not want to be shaken by a season. Only when the knuckles had gone white could he steady his breathing again.

"Truthfully, I grow shy in formal places. If my lady wouldn't mind—"

A small vulnerability always put the other person at ease. His lips were dry, his tone a little awkward, but she did not seem to notice. She smiled faintly, as if reassured.

"I like it, too... sitting like this."

She drew her knees up and looked out over the lake.

"Near the Pignatelli Mansion there are more beautiful lakes, and fountains as well."

"There are times when the beauty of something raw draws me more than beauty that's been formalized."

His throat worked. The words had not been meant for him, and yet they left him strangely unsettled. He felt he should not look at her any longer. He loosened the cravat tightening around his neck.

"Hah."

He let out a soft breath and found a new thread of conversation.

"Do you usually suffer badly from motion sickness?"

"It isn't that... Not really. It's just that at some point the smell of automobiles started to turn my stomach."

"I see."

Bringing the car instead of a carriage, all for the sake of making a better impression, had been a mistake. He sighed and looked up without thinking—and familiar fruit caught his eye.

"Come to think of it, the apricots are coming in now."

He never spoke of it—it felt too private—but if asked to name the best time of his life, it would have been then. It felt strange to be able to speak of his childhood as memory rather than shame.

Cesare reached up and picked the ripest-looking apricot. His body had not forgotten even if his mind had: he wiped the fruit clean on his coat with easy familiarity and held it out to her. Only after picking one for himself did he realize he had just offered fruit to a noble young lady.

Ah.

He had even been warned that she was particularly particular about what she ate.

"Forgive me. My lady surely has no taste for such things."

He reached out as if to take it back—but instead of returning it, Delfina bit deeply into the flesh. Soft fruit crushed between her teeth, and a sweet fragrance bloomed at once; Cesare's shoulders went rigid. He watched her with a taut gaze.

When she had swallowed the bite, she covered her mouth with one hand.

"...It's delicious."

The way she took another bite without hesitation made him eat his own. A crisp sound, and at the tip of his tongue the particular astringency of fruit not quite ripe.

"Mine's a little early."

When Cesare murmured it, Delfina held out the fruit in her hand.

"Then would you like to try mine as well?"

Before he could hesitate, the apricot she offered was already near. Juice overflowed and ran down her slender wrist. Thick, sticky, sweet liquid gathered at her elbow and dripped to the ground.

"My lady."

"Yes?"

"...Are you always so free with distance?"

Cesare asked in a strained voice. The back of his neck burned of its own accord.

"I'm sorry. I only meant... that we might taste it together."

At her words he gave a shallow nod and turned the subject.

"Then—is there anything else?"

To the question that made her eyes sparkle like a child's, he answered,

"Right behind us is a thicket of wild raspberries."

He reached out, picked several berries, and set them in her palm.

"They really are raspberries."

The tartness that spread the moment she put one in her mouth made her eyes go round. Seeing that she liked them, he picked a whole handful this time and gave it to her.

"I've never put so many in my mouth at once."

"If a little more time had passed, they would have been sweeter. A pity."

"...You really do know a great deal."

The mild, warm wind had a way of softening even a hardened heart.

"I ate them until I was sick of them as a child."

Instead of asking him to pick more, she began gathering the raspberries herself. When she had an armful, she spoke as if the thought had only just struck her.

"I wanted to take some with me, but I forgot my handkerchief."

The one she had brought had already been used for the motion sickness. The man drew the handkerchief from the breast pocket of his jacket.

"If this will do, please use it."

"...Thank you."

So particular, Cesare chided Lady Pignatelli inwardly. He had never met a noble young lady so unfussy. A lady who would pick raspberries until her fingertips stained red, just to take them home.

Worn out, Delfina sat down for a moment and looked at the handkerchief dyed red.

"I'll return a new handkerchief to you."

"There's no need. If it has served its purpose, that is enough."

"You're always so kind."

By her reckoning, the two of them had met only twice. Even counting every encounter by his own measure, he could not remember having treated her so well.

Because I held her roughly.

A subtle air hung between them. They had shared their bodies and spoken of marriage, and still knew nothing of each other. A strange relationship. The first button had been fastened completely wrong. He could catch his breath for a moment.

"Neither when we first met, nor because of that night, have I ever meant to put my lady in a difficult position."

He heard the sound of her drawing a sharp breath, as if she had not expected him to raise the subject so suddenly.

"Then...?"

They were alone, and she seemed to have abandoned the pretense of not knowing; the question came back to him. He had not meant to handle this so clumsily. Cesare dragged a hand down his face.

"...Only that you were acting as if you had forgotten..."

"Do you mean to use me for some purpose?"

"No. Even if it never goes as far as marriage—"

At the sharp question his head snapped up. The earlier innocence was gone; only an impassive face remained.

"......."

"I simply wanted to know my lady a little better..."

Cesare could not finish. He turned his gaze away. The wind stirred the trees and sent gentle ripples across the surface of the lake.