Chapter Four
Bennett’s stomach dropped. No. No, she could not know.
But another voice mocked him that she already knew the secret he’d sacrificed so much to keep from her. She’d seen his injuries, she’d seen his difficulty walking. She knew he was broken. Useless.
It didn’t matter. He’d freed her, and she now had no reason to feel obligated to marry him. He couldn’t lie to her anymore. The weight of his lies bore down on him until his shoulders threatened to break.
He drew a steadying breath and turned to her. “No, I’m not married.”
As she approached, she stepped into a patch of moonlight pouring in through a window, casting a coppery sheen on her hair cascading loose and free around her shoulders. She drew near enough that her perfume curled around him. Violets and lavender. That scent had accompanied every letter, had lulled him to sleep as he’d lain with her letters enfolded in his hands at night.
When she was near enough to touch, she stopped and spread her hands in a helpless gesture. “I don’t understand. You broke off our engagement, yet didn’t get married?”
“No. I…fabricated that.”
“Why?” The words seemed to tear out of her.
Heaven help him, he’d rather face an enemy in full charge than confess the truth to her. Donning the invisible armor he’d worn each time he’d called an order that might result in the death of someone under his command, he sorted through possible explanations.
“I thought it kinder.” He moistened his dry lips. “I’d decided we didn’t suit and that I’d make you miserable, and then you’d make me miserable, and there’s no reason why two people should be together under such circumstances, much less try to have a family.” He closed his mouth with a snap to turn off the idiotic babble. He scrubbed a hand over his face.
“Bennett.” She spoke quietly with knowing in her voice. “Look at me.”
No. Absolutely not. He would not look at her and let her see into his soul. He would not trap her into marrying a ruin of a man.
She stepped closer, reached up, and put a soft hand on his face. “You decided we didn’t suit.”
He looked at the window, the wall, the floor, everywhere but her eyes. “Er, yes.”
Her voice turned achingly gentle. “When you were recovering from your injuries.”
He swallowed past a boulder in his throat. In a hoarse voice he said, “Yes.”
“When you realized you’d never walk normally again?”
Oh, saints above! “Don’t do this,” he rasped.
“Because you didn’t think I’d still love you if you came home as anything other than a perfectly whole man?”
An appalling urge to weep swept over him so furiously that he had to blink several times, still trying to swallow past that stubborn blockage in his throat.
She whispered. “Am I so shallow?”
“No.” His voice cracked.
She stepped so near that the heat of her body sank into his chest straight through to his heart, and she put a hand on either side of his face. “I love you. I don’t love your ability to walk or run or dance. I love you.”
He let out a strangled cry but couldn’t move. She’d wrapped a spell around him. He was helpless under her power. She rose up on tiptoe and pressed a kiss to his mouth so sweet and light, it might have been the touch of a butterfly. Every nerve in his broken body sprang to life.
A tear leaked from one of his eyes. Then the other. How he loved this woman!
“No,” he groaned. “No. We can’t. You’re young and beautiful and vibrant. You need someone whole, someone who can ride a horse and walk along the seashore and—”
“—someone who will love me like only you can.”
His heart swelled painfully. How he wanted this woman in his life! But he couldn’t. She deserved more.
He forced out the words that had taunted him for months. “Trust me, you don’t want to be shackled to a cripple.”
“What I don’t want is another moment away from you. I love your heart and your mind and your soul. That has nothing to do with your legs.”
He dragged in a ragged breath.
As if in a full charge, she pressed on. “Yes, we did love to do things together that required strong legs. But weather doesn’t always permit a long walk or a ride. And there’s more to life than dancing. We enjoyed many other things. Remember when we sat by the window and listened to the rain? We sat, quietly, hardly moving, just enjoying being together.”
He remembered. They’d shared several stolen kisses then, as well.
“How about all those times you read to me aloud? You have the most beautiful reading voice. And all our lively discussions. I love a great many things about you, Bennett, and none of it depends on your ability to use your legs.”
His heart swelled again, hot and bright, and a barrier inside him that he’d carefully built around his heart burst open, disintegrating like a lit barrel of gunpowder.
She kissed him again, sweet and insistent. This time, all his restraint crumbled. He dropped his cane and wrapped her up tight. Starved for Emily’s touch, he devoured her mouth, letting her sweetness soothe his loneliness and heal his pain. She poured her healing love over him, cleansing, bringing light, and filling the dark emptiness inside.
When the pain in his knee broke through the haze of love enfolding him, he pulled her into a crushing hug and buried his face in her fragrant hair.
“Are you in pain?” she asked softly.
“More than you can imagine, and not all in my knee.”
She laughed softly at his innuendo and led him to the nearest chair. “You need to tell me these things.”
Before she could move to take a seat nearby, he sat and pulled her onto his lap. “Don’t go just yet.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, and snuggled into him. “Oh, Bennett, if you’d just trusted me, we could both have been spared a great deal of grief. I cannot tell you how I suffered thinking you no longer loved me and had turned to another.”
“I’m sorry I hurt you. I really thought I was doing the right thing by releasing you.”
“I know. It’s so like you. But if you ever do that to me again, I swear I’ll do something terrible.”
He laughed softly. “I got a glimpse of your wrath tonight. I’m not eager to see that again.”
“That was nothing. Remember that next time you consider doing something foolish.” Her soft body molded against him.
He closed his eyes and confessed, “I suffered too. Not only because I thought I’d never see you again, but because I knew I had hurt you. I really hoped you’d find someone else, someone whole, and forget about me.”
“I’d never forget you. You are the love of my life.”
“Are you sure? You won’t regret this in a few weeks or months?”
“I won’t regret this in a few lifetimes,” she said firmly. “You are the only man for me.”
“I vow I’ll never turn away from you.”
She straightened, a mischievous gleam in her eye. “Come with us to my Aunt Ruby’s house. Uncle George has the connections to procure a special license. We can spend Christmas together and get married in a few days.”
He groaned. “A few minutes won’t be soon enough for me. And by the way, you’re shameless to propose to me, you know.”
“Oh, pooh. I’m simply ignoring your last letter.”
“Good. I have a new letter for you.” He cleared his throat.
“Dearest Emily,
I’ve been injured and I don’t walk well, but I love you more than life. Your love has sustained me through all the horrors of war. I’m injured and may always struggle to walk. I have received my discharge so I’m coming home soon. Will you still marry me even though I can no longer dance?
I remain your obedient servant,
Bennett A. Seton.”
She nuzzled against him.
“Dearest Bennett,
I love you and will gladly marry you at our first opportunity. If we cannot dance, I’m sure we’ll find something to occupy our evenings.
Forever yours,
Emily Annesley, soon to be Mrs. Bennett Seton.”
He laughed huskily and kissed her again, whispering words of promise and love and hope. Each of Emily’s sweet kisses healed him a little more until at last, with her love, he was whole.
A word about the author...
Author of historical romance and fantasy, award-winning author Donna Hatch is a sought-after speaker and workshop presenter. She is the two-time winner of the prestigious Golden Quill. Her passion for writing began at age eight when she wrote her first short story, and she wrote her first full-length novel during her sophomore year in high school, a fantasy which was later published.
In between caring for six children, (seven, counting her husband), her day job, her work as a freelance editor, and her many volunteer positions, she still makes time to write. After all, writing is an obsession. All the best qualities of her heroes are patterned after her husband of over twenty years, who continues to prove that there really is a happily ever after.
Visit Donna at:
www.donnahatch.com