August 21, 1864
I can't stop thinking about her. I will not even write her name; I daren't. She is beautiful, entrancing, singular. When I'm with Rosalyn, I am Giuseppe's son, the Salvatore boy, essentially interchangeable with Damon. I know it would not matter one whit to the Cartwrights if Damon took my place. It is only me because Father knew Damon would not stand for it, knew I would say yes, just like always.
But when I saw her, her lithe figure, her red lips, her eyes that were flickering and sad and thrilling all at once ... it was as though I was finally just myself, just Stefan Salvatore.
I must be strong. I must treat her like a sister. I must fall in love with the woman who is to be my wife.
But I fear it is already too late.... Rosalyn Salvatore, I thought to myself the next day, tasting the words as I walked out the door, ready to fulfill my duty by paying a second call on my soon-to-be-betrothed. I imagined living with Rosalyn in the carriage house--or perhaps some smaller mansion my father would build as our wedding present--me working all day, poring through ledgers with my father in his stuffy study, while she took care of our children. I tried to feel excitement. But all I felt was cold dread seeping through my veins.
I walked around the grand path of Veritas and gazed wistfully up at the carriage house. I hadn't seen Katherine since she arrived yesterday afternoon. Father had dispatched Alfred to invite her to supper, but she'd declined. I'd spent the evening looking out the window toward the house, but I couldn't see any flicker of candlelight. If I hadn't known she and Emily had moved in, I'd have assumed the house had remained unoccupied. Finally, I went to sleep, wondering the whole time what Katherine was doing and whether she needed comforting.
I tore my eyes away from the drawn upstairs shades and trudged down the driveway. The dirt road under my feet was hard and cracked; we needed a good rainstorm. There was no breeze, and the air felt dead. There wasn't another person outside as far as the eye could see, yet as I walked, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on walked, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and I got the uneasy feeling that I wasn't alone. Unbidden, Robert's warnings about walking off on my own floated through my mind.
"Hello?" I called out as I turned around.
I started. Standing just a few feet behind me, leaning against one of the angel statues that flanked the drive, was Katherine. She wore a white sunbonnet that protected her ivory skin and a white dress dotted with tiny rosebuds. Despite the heat, her fair skin looked as cool as the pond on a December morning.
She smiled at me, displaying perfectly straight, white teeth. "I had hoped for a tour of the grounds, but it seems you are otherwise engaged."
My heart pounded at the word "engaged," the ring box in my back pocket as heavy as a branding iron. "I'm not ... no. I mean," I stammered, "I could stay."