Thirteen
“Telegram for Mr. Robert Trent,” came a muffled voice.
Robert set the Bible aside onto the coffee table within the main sitting room of his apartment at the hotel and stood to move toward the door. Upon opening it, he signed for the telegram, tipped the porter, and absently closed the door while reading it.
“Drat.”
Robert balled the paper and tossed it into the wastebasket by the front door, a frown darkening his expression. The telegram had simply read: ‘Return. Stop. Now. Stop.’
~~~
Rachel read over the final draft of the intended articles for the newspaper announcement of her engagement, a finger absently tapping her lips as her father’s secretary waited for her verdict. Mr. Theodore Johansson was a tall and slender man with gray hair and eyes whom had been working for her father since before she could remember. He was highly experienced at his job, and she didn’t remember ever hearing her father complain of him.
“Nicely done,” Rachel complimented, returning the draft to him as she met with him in the dining nook. “See that it is published appropriately in as little time as possible. I want the article published before the invitations are sent for the ball, and those are due to be sent this afternoon, as the party is the weekend after next.”
Mr. Johansson received the paper and nodded, tucking it into his business attaché case before standing and giving her a slight bow. “Yes, Miss.”
“Also, I will be having you begin to meet with Mr. Trent on the situation we discussed before.”
“The law practice?”
“Yes. I haven’t discussed it with him again, but I will do so today and discover whether he would like details to be organized before or after our return from our wedding holiday. If you could make a list of possible staff suggestions, that would likely relieve you of stress and difficulty either way.”
Mr. Johansson nodded again. “Yes, Miss. I have already done so, since our last discussion.”
Rachel smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Johansson. You may go.”
He bowed and left the room, leaving Rachel to focus on her untouched light breakfast of fruit. Mr. Thorne had not arrived yesterday as expected. In the evening over a silent dinner between her father and herself, a note had been sent from the hotel stating he had only just arrived, due to an unforeseen incident while traveling, and would be calling after breakfast to begin the fittings.
I sincerely hope Robert appears this morning to alleviate my boredom. With his wardrobe now finalized, the articles ready for publication, the invitations addressed and prepared for mailing, Rachel couldn’t think of anything more that would need to take their attention from a further exploration of the other. Until, of course, the wedding drew closer. Then there would be the finalizing of reception invitations, locations of receptions and wedding ceremony alike, seating arrangements for those, rehearsals, et cetera, et cetera. Rachel reasoned they had at least two or three weeks before arrangements would need to begin for the ceremony, and a portion of that would be taken by the Announcement Luncheon/Party.
“Miss Rachel?”
Rachel looked up as Oliver entered the dining nook. “Yes?”
“Mr. Trent needs to speak with you rather quickly. He waits outside by a carriage.”
“A carriage?” Rachel repeated as she stood. “Thank you, Oliver.”
Oliver nodded and disappeared into the kitchen as Rachel exited the nook and made her way down the front hall to the entrance and then outside. As Oliver had said, Robert stood by a waiting carriage looking very irritated and annoyed. When she noticed packed trunks on the luggage rack atop the carriage, Rachel arched an eyebrow.
Robert focused on her and smiled, immediately stepping forward to take her hands into his and bestow a soft kiss on each cheek. “Good morning, Rachel,” he greeted softly, giving her hands a gentle pressure.
“Robert.” She pulled her hands from his and stepped back, doing her best to steel herself against the welcome warmth his touch and attention brought while the luggage rack on the carriage only vaguely drew her notice. “You needed to speak with me?”
Robert’s eyebrow twitched. Then he looked over his shoulder to the carriage. “Ah. Yes. The tell-tale sign of trunks and luggage.” He focused again on her. “Father hasn’t been as accepting of my decision to be prematurely independent as I had hoped. I’ve been summoned.”
“Summoned?” A slight flare of irritation rose, mixing quickly with the chill of concern. “Now. But what of the Announcement Party!”
“I’ll make certain to return in time, Rachel.” His expression softened as he slowly retrieved his dark charcoal hat from his head to absently turn it within his hands. “I promised the children to persuade you to have a luncheon. Remember?”
Rachel regarded him for a moment, her mind processing the travel time and the possibilities… “I’ll go with you.”
Robert blinked and dropped his hat. “Pardon?”
“I’ll go with you,” she repeated. “Perhaps if I explain my circumstances, he won’t deal so harshly with you.”
Robert suddenly chuckled. “Rachel, Rachel. I’ll be fine. You’ve too many responsibilities here to run away with me to Virginia.”
“Nonsense. Responsibilities can be rearranged and set aside until later. Wait here and I will–”
“Rachel,” Robert interrupted, smiling, “while I appreciate the offer, I don’t believe that would help matters one way or the other.”
“It doesn’t matter to me if you believe it will or not. I don’t intend to leave you alone to your father’s possible wrath when I stand at the base of it.”
“You don’t ‘stand at the base of’ anything, Angel. I made my own decision, therefore I’m destined to take the chastisement due me. You stay here and have your fittings and your tea parties and I’ll go there and be yelled at and lectured.”
Rachel scoffed. “Fittings and tea parties? I’d rather be yelled at.”
Laughing, Robert bent to retrieve his hat from the sidewalk. “Yes, well, I believe I would rather be at your particular version of a tea party, but such isn’t an option.”
“Neither is my remaining behind while you journey to Virginia,” Rachel informed, turning away. “Driver, you leave without my presence and I will have you dismissed.”
“Here, here,” Robert protested as he hurried after her. “Rachel, you can’t make idle threats such as those. You’ll ruin your reputation.”
Rachel opened the front door, Robert continuing after her, and called “Maggie, pack the barest necessities immediately. I’m leaving with Robert to Charlottesville.” Maggie appeared from, and then disappeared back to, Rachel’s room. “Oliver, contact Mr. Thorne at the hotel and have him meet with Mr. Belding to obtain my measurements and wishes for my trousseau. Final preparations will wait until I return.” Oliver bowed, he had appeared from the back hall, and then turned and disappeared again.
“Rachel,” Robert protested again, coming to stand beside her. She focused on him. “This is preposterous. Why should you put the house into an uproar for such a short trip?”
“Because I refuse to leave you to a responsibility we share.”
“But he’s my father.”
“And he’s to be my father-in-law,” Rachel responded, retrieving her overcoat. She focused her attention on Maggie as she hurried down the stairs with hat and gloves in hand. “I won’t take the time to change into my traveling habit, Maggie. We will need to see to the duty once we’re on the train.”
Maggie nodded, motioning behind to the sound of a commotion coming from Rachel’s room. “Sarah is packing a valise with a habit and a few amenities while the others are readying a single trunk. The trunk will be sent ahead to Charlottesville. Here’s your hat and gloves.”
Rachel accepted them and then gestured to the second floor. “You’d best get your things, Mags. We need to leave immediately.”
Maggie nodded, smiling as she turned away and hurried back upstairs. “I know. I already have planned what I’m bringing. I’ll be right down.”
Robert gripped her upper arm. “Rachel, you can’t be serious.”
“I am very serious,” Rachel responded, focusing her determined green eyes on his shocked expression of chocolate brown. “We’ve made a pact and an agreement, you’ve accepted my favor and I’ve accepted your advances. Henceforth, we are partners and I refuse to allow you to face challenges alone when I am involved in them.”
Robert opened his mouth to object again, but Rachel lifted a hand and pressed a single finger against his lips. He blinked in surprise.
“I am going, Robert, and that is the end of it.”
Robert held her gaze and then smiled, enfolding her hand with his and kissing the palm. “All right. You’re going.”
One side of her lips twitched upward as she retrieved her hand from his grasp and slipped into her gloves. “You should choose your battles more carefully. If your heart isn’t in it, let it pass.”
“Yes, dear.”
Rachel softly chuckled, adjusting her gloves upon her hands as Maggie appeared yet again with a valise in each hand. “All right, then. We’re off.”
Robert offered his arm, which Rachel accepted, and escorted her outside and to the carriage. “What of your father?”
“I imagine he will be appearing any moment to inquire after the commotio–”
“What in blazes is going on out here?”
Robert smirked. “Ah.”
Rachel and Robert stopped and turned at the front entry. Maggie continued past to open the door and slip outside.
“Robert and I are leaving to Charlottesville, Father. It seems that his father has requested his immediate return.”
Henry Samson gripped the railing of the second floor balcony as he glowered down at them. “You’re what?”
“We’re leaving to Charlottesville. Do not worry. We plan on a return before the Announcement Party weekend after next. If such isn’t the case, then I shall contact the papers with notification of the postponement,” Rachel informed, calm.
Henry’s face reddened. “Rachel…”
“Maggie will be journeying with us as chaperone, Father, and I shall arrange separate cars for sleeping arrangements. Mr. Thorne has been contacted regarding the fittings, and I shall finalize those once I return.” Rachel focused on Robert, who had been watching her with a lopsided smile. “When is the train due to depart?”
Robert checked his timepiece. “If we leave now at a fast clip, we’ll just make it.”
Rachel briefly nodded and focused again on her father, who continued to tightly grip the railing. “Good morning, Father. I will inform you of my safe arrival. Robert.”
The pair exited the house. Henry pounded a fist onto the railing and swore.
~~~
“This scene seems so vaguely familiar.”
Rachel smiled as she lowered herself onto the couch of the train coach, reserved courtesy of the Trent family in Virginia, and watched Robert again seat himself in the chair across from her. Maggie positioned herself to Rachel’s right and immediately drew out her ‘project box’ that generally held projects of mending and some type of needle work.
“Although I believe you wore a habit of green rather than the blue you do now,” Robert finished.
“Oh?” Rachel opened her fan as she regarded him, only very slightly allowing a smirk to soften her expression. “I don’t recall much of that journey.” Other than the laughter and the extreme enjoyment of the company of a gentleman.
“Truly? I had thought I impressed more than that.”
“Did I say you did not?”
Robert regarded her for a silent moment before giving a boyish smile. “I see. You don’t recall the journey itself.”
Her lips twitched.
His expression softened to a different smile. Then, to Rachel’s mild surprise and delight, he softly said “I didn’t want to leave you behind so soon, Ange,” in French.
Maggie didn’t look up from her work. She only sounded a soft sigh while her lips twitched upward.
“Then why did you protest so strongly?” Rachel reminded, and it felt glorious to converse in French again.
“Mostly due to the shock that you would so quickly suggest it.” Robert retrieved his pipe and began tapping the chamber into his palm, still smiling. “I myself had been doing my best to keep my mind from how best to persuade you.”
“Your presence has made these past several days home more bearable, Robert,” she admitted. “Why should I let you escape to a lecture when you’ve likely kept me from the same, or at least borne it with me.”
“After the confessions within the letters?” he gently pressed. “I had to admit it would be a likely possibility that you would terminate the relationship.”
Rachel blinked, lowering her fan and softly yet intensely saying, “Mon Dieu! You believe I would usher you away when such letters only proved your honor more intensely?”
Robert’s ears flushed, but he didn’t look away. He only continued to softly smile. “I didn’t want to assume the best without being prepared, also, for the worst. You’re entitled your unique impressions and opinions the same as I myself.”
“My ‘unique impression’ is that you deserve a better partner. One better able–”
“Ange,” Robert interrupted, voice soft yet firm. He shook his head and moved slightly forward in the chair, brown eyes meeting her slightly widened ones of green. “Ange, there is no one ‘better able’ or better suited for me than you.” He reached out and offered her his hand, palm upward. Rachel lowered her gaze to it before hesitantly placing her hand within his soft and warm clasp. “You, ma chéri, are the one God has chosen me to marry.”
“Did not you yourself choose to pursue the courtship?” Rachel pressed, intrigued still more that he would continue to insist that a God would have so much to do with his life.
“I chose to follow a press on my heart. One that I couldn’t reason or rationalize away. I prayed. I meditated. I deliberated…” Robert gave a small smile as he lowered his focus to her hand in his. “I’ve told you that I reason our meetings to be God’s fashioning of a miracle. After the short time I’ve spent with you, I’ve no doubt of this. Never before have I so enjoyed a lady’s friendship and humor.” He finally looked up to meet her gaze. “We ‘click’ together much like two pieces of a puzzle, Ange. How could this be anything but God’s design? God’s choice? God’s blessing?”
‘God’s blessing.’ She hadn’t been titled such in more years than she could recall, yet she clearly saw the truth of the label in his actions toward her-- ‘God’s choice.’ Rachel lowered her gaze to their joined hands, unable to classify the shift within at such a statement. To be chosen by anyone…
Robert kissed her hand, giving her a somewhat tilted and very boyish smile when she lifted her eyes to meet his. Encouraging a slight smile and an escape past the seriousness and the reasons ‘why’ such a choice would make an incredible difference on how she viewed what life had to offer.
~~~
Rachel released a deep breath, adjusting her arms gently around her as she stood outside the private train coach and watched the blues and lavenders of the approaching day kiss the sky. When did I last enjoy the dawning of a day? Again, it seemed another life. Closing her eyes, she breathed in deep, leaning more heavily against the train car as she welcomed a return of a past ease. A hinting of peace. Of safety and… and being enough.
Enough… The word rang within her, causing a shiver and a burning in her eyes. Enough. I am enough. Angel. Dearest. Darling. Dear. A multitude of titles and names for the same feeling of acceptance she hadn’t previously thought to want.
Rachel brought a hand up to cover her eyes, her sigh a little more tear-filled as she again remembered all the dreams and prayers she had voiced while a child and growing woman. The requests for a loving man. A hero. A prince. The prayers for safety and family. All of them ringing together in her mind to form one beautiful and gentle baritone. All her dreams coming together within her imagination to create a handsome and compelling man of intensity and honor.
The prayers had been answered, and so much more poignantly than she could have dreamed.
An unexpected yet welcome softness of warmth on her shoulder lowered her hand and drew her gaze. Robert stood a little behind her, immaculate and comfortable in charcoal slacks and shirt-sleeves while bearing a smile of concern and care. In his other hand he held a knitted throw.
He draped the throw over her shoulders, rubbing her arms with his hands. “Good morning.”
Rachel offered him a soft smile before focusing ahead. “It is.”
“You’ve been out here a while, Angel. Are you all right?”
She nodded. “I am.” She motioned to the sunrise. “It’s beautiful. A new beginning. A grand and promising day.”
Robert’s action of hands slowed and then stopped, but his touch remained on her arms. “It is.”
“I haven’t so appreciated a sunrise in years. Before, each day held the same promise. Expectations never met. Achievements never surpassed, as was demanded.” Rachel very slightly shook her head. “Actions and choices never enough,” she whispered.
Then Rachel cleared her throat and sent another glance toward Robert. His brown eyes were dark with concern and… pain.
“The intrigue and intricacy of ‘life in business’ was never taught to me,” she told him, looking again to the orchids and oranges of the changing sunrise. “The challenge and blessing of an intricate balance of pain and joy in a relationship was never shown. Instead, I learned how to best manipulate and use those around me. How to harden a heart so as to not be used stood the most important lesson?”
Robert’s thumbs began a light action of stroking her arms, but he remained silently listening.
Rachel brought a hand over to cover his, still staring out at the sunrise and the new possibilities it whispered of. “I lost hope rather than holding on to it, and now I don’t know how to get it back again. I continue to reason that it’s too late. That once we’ve stepped away from it, we can’t have it back again.” She shook her head and lowered her gaze, closing her eyes to staunch the tears. “That’s all I’ve ever had. People stepping away and keeping me back; distant; alone…”
“You were never alone, Angel,” Robert reminded, voice soft and tender. Turning her to face him with a gentle pressure, he enfolded her into his arms and pressed his lips against her temple. “You were never alone.”
Rachel pressed her cheek against his warmth as her arms wrapped themselves tight around him. “Wasn’t I? I don’t remember ever feeling safe or protected.”
“I was always there, praying for you,” he said, voice so soft she only just heard it soothing the hurt and agony. “God was always there, looking over you. Keeping you safe from harm.”
She tightened her arms around him, tears wetting her face. “I don’t remember ever feeling as if I had a haven where the expectations couldn’t follow. Where I could rest and be myself… Please, Robert. I want that now. Please….”
Robert released a deep sigh and rested his cheek against the crown of her head. “Of course, Angel. Rest. The Lord and I will guard your haven.”
~~~
“Maggie.”
Maggie lifted her bright hazel-green eyes from the duty of her embroidery on a kerchief. “Yes, Rach?”
“When Robert comes back from speaking with the conductor, could you give us a few moments alone? There is a subject I need to discuss with him that is liable to cause him some embarrassment.”
“Of course.” Maggie smiled. “Please tell me.”
A smirk twitched Rachel’s lips. “In his letters, which is what the box delivered that morning consisted of, he wrote of the orphanage and a particular pair of children.”
“Oh?” Maggie leaned forward, project forgotten as her eyes twinkled. “He’s… He’s…?”
Rachel slightly inclined her head. “He’s of the heart and mind to adopt Bobby and April, an adorable pair of children ages 11 and 9 respectively, but isn’t sure when to tell me of it. He doesn’t want me to believe he manipulates the situation.”
“Oh!” Maggie exclaimed. “I know those two angels! They simply adore Mr. Trent. Whenever I visit they’re always bestowing stories and pictures of their ‘papa’. Pictures of outings they’ve shared and adventures to swimming holes or picnics.”
Her smile briefly widened. “Then you also know why he would think I would believe manipulation, for I’ve come to fancy myself partial to the two since meeting them.”
“What are you going to say?”
“I don’t know, as of yet. He should be given the chance to tell me in his own words, but I’ve a feeling he won’t unless I bring it up myself. So--”
The door to their reserved coach opened then, ushering in a smiling Robert who greeted the pair with a mischievous “Now, now, ladies. No plotting. I’m not in the mind to survive right now, as I’ve been told we’re ahead of schedule and due to arrive in Richmond late this evening. Damon will be meeting us at the hotel the next morning with a carriage.”
Maggie sent Rachel a wink as she stood. “This evening?” she gasped with feigned horror. “Oh dear! I’ve got to check our things and repack the valises and fold your gowns and… Oh dear, oh dear,” as she scurried from the coach to the sleeping compartments.
Rachel lifted her fan to hide the smirk, especially when viewing Robert’s lifted eyebrow and thoughtful expression as he stared after her while absently lowering himself into the chair across from Rachel. “Goodness. I didn’t know the poor girl had so much to do. If I had, I would have come sooner.”
“She’ll be all right,” Rachel offered calmly, drawing Robert’s gaze and returning his smile.
“Do you realize this is the first moment we’ve had to ourselves in two days?”
She had noticed, while at the same time coming to find that the lesser… dramatic and romantic time spent with him and his humor had revealed a deeper aspect to his persona. One she enjoyed. One that, again, reaffirmed her belief that he was a man of insight as well as different facets of humor and seriousness. “Is it?”
“Indeed.” He regarded her calm expression, still mostly hidden by her softly pulsing fan, and absently tapped a rhythm on the arm of his chair. “What are you plotting?”
Rachel arched an eyebrow. “Plotting, sir? Why would I plot?”
One side of his lips lifted in his attractive boyish smirk. “If I knew that, I wouldn’t have asked. But I have the inkling that you arranged this time alone, and now I’ve found myself wondering why.”
Lowering the fan to reveal her soft smile and still calm expression, she told him, “I wanted to speak with you regarding your letters,” in as non-aggressive tone as she could muster.
Red colored his ears, also moving to his face and neck as he cleared his throat and lowered his gaze. “I see.”
Regarding him with a softer smile, Rachel said, “I enjoyed them very much.”
He cast her a glance, followed by another clearing of the throat. “You will never know how much of a relief it was to have those out of my possession.”
“Why?” she asked, voice quiet and curious.
“It meant a forward step. A step toward the future I had been praying after for as long as I could remember.”
Rachel watched his expressions for a silent moment before observing “Another ‘finally’.”
Robert’s countenance softened as he looked up. “Well said.”
A smile returned to Rachel’s lips. “And what is to be said future? Sharing the one you have with two very deserving children as well as a wife?”
His smile vanished as he blinked, hand tightening on the arms of the chair. “What did you say?”
“Bobby and April,” Rachel prompted. Robert swallowed hard and went a little pale. “Your letters?” she prompted again.
He lowered his gaze. “I had forgotten that one.” Robert cleared his throat and sent her a quick glance.
Rachel chuckled. “Robert, there’s no reason to be embarrassed. From the moment I met you children and family have been a priority.”
“It’s not necessarily embarrassment, Angel…”
“Children are a very different aspect of a relationship?” Rachel offered.
One side of Robert’s lips twitched upward before he focused on her. “As you say.”
“You are quite correct. Children are a more… involved aspect of a relationship. Yet if such a desire of adoption has been on your heart, as I know it has, so deeply that it has become your passion, as I know it has,” she pressed when he seemed about to deny, “then the opportunity should be taken firm hold of. Especially considering I am willing to offer them house and home. Bobby and April…” She released a small smile. “They have withstood enough heartbreak. They deserve a home better than what they have.”
Robert’s only answer was a continuation of his soft scrutiny, causing a pleasant warmth and shuffling within.
Rachel’s expression became expectant as she held his gaze. “So what are your plans? When do you intend to adopt?”
“When?” Robert repeated, blinking.
Her lips twitched. “Yes.”
“I…” Robert suddenly chuckled. “I hadn’t thought that far. I wouldn’t until I had first reasoned out how to approach you about the subject.”
“I appreciate the thought, Robert. Can we speak of possibilities now?”
“Of course. What do you think?”
“First, I would like to hear what you yourself had planned.”
“All right, but as I said before, I haven’t given specific thought to ‘when’ I would adopt them due to the fact I hadn’t decided when to tell you about the adoption. So…” He gave a slight shrug. “I’m at a loss, Rachel, and I’d rather discuss it equally.”
‘Equally.’ She inclined her head, and she could feel the smile changing.
“My initial thought now is to wait to begin the adoption process until we ourselves have had an opportunity to… well, ‘adopt’ one another as ‘wife’ and ‘husband’. Adding another stress to an already new relationship wouldn’t be wise.”
“Agreed.” Still more thought to her comfort and trust. More putting off of his passions and desires… for her.
“So, while I believe we should tell them what we intend before we leave for our extended honeymoon, we likely shouldn’t legally adopt them until sometime after we return.”
“Yes. I believe that to be a wise… precaution…” A sudden thought had her asking, “Robert?” in a somewhat absent tone of voice.
His expression changed. “Yes?” his prompt cautious and concerned.
“Perhaps we should ask them before making future plans? Have them stay with us several times, even, before putting any undue pressure upon them?”
Robert nodded. “That is a safe and sound idea. They’ve titled me ‘papa’, yes, but this is an entirely deeper matter.”
“We should wait to speak to them about the actual adoption until after the Announcement Party,” Rachel suggested.
“Yes. I believe that would be wise. Then they would know we’re to be married and they would have an opportunity to see us as a ‘couple’.”
‘…couple…’ An aspect of a relationship she hadn’t ever ventured into, saving it for dreams and fantasies that had been locked carefully away. Now…? Rachel only softly smiled.
Which caused Robert’s eyes to darken and his expression to change to a remembered moment before a kiss… “Ange,” he said in French, “you look at me with eyes of a deeper emerald than usual.”
Rachel flushed and lowered her gaze to her fan. “Do I?”
Yet how could she explain that she observed him differently than she had before the letters. Before the journey to a past that had made him so much more real. She gracefully opened her fan, lifting it to shield her face as she lifted her eyes to very coyly meet his. Safe beyond safe was what she felt when she risked ‘life’ with him. There was no anger. No fear or suspicion. Not anymore. There was ‘Rachel’.
Robert leaned slowly forward, voice tender as he said, “Continue to regard me in such away, ma chéri, and I shall have no recourse but to kiss those eyes, and in plain view of all.”
Lowering her gaze, Rachel continued to hide her flush and regard behind the graceful caress of her fan. “You would dare risk your reputation for a tender moment with moi, monsieur?”
Robert shifted his position to sit beside her, leaning close with his left arm resting along the back of the velvet couch as his smile continued to speak to a portion of her heart that had only just begun to wake. “I would dare my father’s wrath for a tender moment with you,” he confessed in a low voice.
Rachel couldn’t release his lovely and intense brown eyes. “Do what you will, monsieur,” she whispered. “I believe your honor will keep certain passions in check.”
His lips twitched, but the brown of his eyes darkened with an expression she had come to see more and more often. One that she had begun to understand herself. An extreme attraction and the fight against the action of it. “Perhaps, ma chéri, perhaps.” He lifted a hand to tease a curl at her temple with a single finger. “Your beauty and intelligence sparkling in emerald, though, would have me doubt my mortal strengths. Only God Himself could restrain Himself in the presence of such.”
And how often had she heard such ‘pretty’ words from men and not believed them? Though the tone had been right and the eyes had glowed with an appropriate intensity… always had there been the irritation and knowledge that they were empty words. There had been no actions of honor and regard to support an ounce of the supposed passion. Yet with Robert…
Rachel gracefully and almost timidly reached forward a hand to cup his cheek, her thumb caressing the softness. Such a surrender to tenderness tightened her chest and so intensely changed his expression that warmth spread throughout the chill with a welcome tingle. “Restrain as you will, monsieur, but know that it will not be refused.”
Robert closed his eyes and moved his face enough to kiss her palm, whispering “…ma chéri…” in a tone that held more power than anything experienced before.
And when he gathered her into his arms to place a kiss of softness and tenderness upon her lips, Rachel’s arms surrounded him with such an assurance and naturalness of movement that the action amazed her. The womanly instinct overrode her training and pressed her closer to a man who had spoken to both portions of her person: business and femininity. Accepting her in a way her mind and heart had forgotten possible.
As before, Robert responded to that movement, making it easy to ignore the harsh reminder of independence that rang in her mind. Then another grouping of caresses upon her lips tenderly coaxed herself past the wall that had served her so well…
“Rachel…”
And the softness of his spoken whisper of her name moved her to a deeper response of her lips with his, feeding the fear at the emotion she felt and the terror that she risked a possible rejection at the display of it.
Yet the thrill… to feel.
Then his lips released hers to move along her cheek to her ear, placing small kisses along their journey as his arms tightened gently around her.
“…Rachel…”
Rachel’s eyelids fluttered, his breath caressing the skin of her throat--
“…I love you.”
Her entire body tensed, eyes snapping open moments before panic flared the suspicion and forced her to push back. Robert didn’t resist the almost desperate movement of hands pressing against his chest. He released her, moving slightly back from her as he watched her reaction with a wary gaze.
“Don’t say that,” Rachel told him, voice clearly implying the fear that she so desperately fought. She pressed her lips together and looked away. “I understand the presence of desire, for you’re a virile and attractive man, but don’t label it ‘love’ to rationalize your responses.”
His silence surprised her, and it even caused her to tighten her hold on her fan. Then he released a deep and slow breath. “Would it be easier to accept my attentions if I only ‘desired’ you and didn’t ‘love’ you?” he asked, his tone exuding an unexpected ring of caution.
The tensing within heightened, causing her to snap open her fan and almost tenaciously stir the air around her face. “Either ‘truth’ has no bearing on my acceptance of the attraction.”
That comment caused Robert to move very close, capturing her attention with the intensity of his gaze. “Rachel, I spoke the truth of my attraction. I have always spoken the truth to you.”
“Love?” Rachel repeated, and the continued press at the subject incited a continued growth to the fear and caused the word to sound very near a sneer. Her fan snapped closed, the end being gripped by her opposite hand. “After barely a week of acquaintance?” She scoffed and looked away, again opening her fan. “Don’t be absurd.”
“It’s absurd to love you?”
She twitched without meaning to, the secondary confession of the word unexpected. Clenching her jaw, her hold on the fan tightened as she said, “I find it hard to believe that you would think otherwise,” in a cold tone of detached calm.
Again the silence descended, making Rachel’s insides twist and her jaw muscle twitch as he regarded her reactions. It was the first time the scrutiny had been unwelcome.
“In that you don’t believe you’re deserving of it?”
Rachel sharply closed the fan and slapped his face.
Robert didn’t lean back or even respond to the slap with a raised hand. He simply held her gaze with the same understanding and compassionate look from days previous, making the panic roar within as his presence remained within her personal space.
“Why?” he asked.
Rachel didn’t respond. She couldn’t. It would have meant admitting a truth she had never spoken to anyone.
“Yes, I might have spoken it at an inappropriate time,” he confessed gently, “but as we’re engaged and to be wed in three months, why not confess my feelings? It’s the truth. It has been the truth. On the train that first time met? I know there was an attraction and an interest, but love? I couldn’t say. At the orphanage after the day with the children, viewing another ‘Rachel’ that is as enticing as the one known before? Quite possibly. But not with any certainty. Not until now.”
Rachel scoffed again, forcing her eyes from his as her fan again moved at a somewhat frantic pace, her hands trembling the same as her insides. The wall tipping. The calm and cold lost as the numbness began to dissipate. Love. She forced a sneer at the word she’d come to despise. A myth spoken to manipulate…
Yet Robert had never been anything but honest and true…
Robert reached out and enfolded her hands between his, ceasing the rapid pace of the fan and again causing a sharp tensing within. She didn’t look toward him. She only tightened her grip on the fan until she heard the loud crack of the soft wood.
“I love you, Rachel.”
She twitched, but it closely resembled a cringe. “Don’t.” Her father had claimed to love her, moments before ushering her aboard the train that took her away from the life she’d come to see as safe.
“Don’t love you?” He forced her hands down to her lap, her hold on the fan not lessening as he continued to watch her. “Why not? You’re an intensely profound woman whom intrigues on so many different levels. You’re attractive and desirable in person and bea–”
“Don’t,” she hissed as she finally met his gaze, brown eyes full of compassion and care and the expression of love that she had previously been unable to categorize. “Please.”
“Rachel.”
She very slightly shook her head, not caring now that desperation likely glowed in her eyes. She couldn’t let him say it. Couldn’t let him feel it. Those whom loved her went away. They changed. She couldn’t bear to lose another one.
Robert lifted her hands to his lips, his brown eyes still holding her gaze. “Do I not love you?” he asked softly. “I know your pain, have made it my own, and will be there; holding you; comforting you. Trust that I will care for you, like no other could. Like no other would.”
Rachel’s throat tightened as she again shook her head, his poetic verse giving rise to the panic that overrode her firm control. She tugged her hands within his grasp and leaned back. Away from him. His understanding. His acceptance. “No… Please.” He would leave. They always left.
“Stay and be still. Trust in the love that I feel. Then believe,” Robert leaned forward to kiss her softly on the cheek, “simply,” and then the other, “in me.”
“…please,” she whimpered, her eyes fluttering closed. She didn’t want to lose this ally. This strength who accepted who she had become…
“In us.” He gently drew her again into the circle of his arms. “In love.”
Rachel choked back a sob, her arms tightening around him as she buried her face into his neck. “Why?” she cried. “Why would you love me…”
A deep breath preceded his softly voiced “Because you are ‘Rachel’.”
But the answer didn’t make sense. She had become a cold-hearted woman more apt to despise tenderness than freely accept it… and yet when she was with him, it seemed ‘Rachel’ of her past life was encouraged and empowered to be revealed. To work alongside who she had become to create an individual more… whole…
Robert pressed his lips gently against her temple. Rachel could barely process the tenderness behind the action, so overwhelmed with his confession and what it caused within: an extreme shift beneath the numbness that bucked and battered against everything she’d come to be taught. Giving truth, instead, to those romantic dreams welcomed as a child.
“Please forgive me, Angel,” Robert requested in a low voice. “I shouldn’t have confessed this secret.”
Rachel pulled back to hold his brown gaze. “Why?”
His smile seemed almost sad as he tenderly brushed the tears from her cheeks. “Though you crave acceptance and love, your heart is still struggling to become ready for it.”
She blinked, something in her very soul struggling and pushing past the protecting numbness. “How… How could you possibly know?”
Lowering his hands to take hers, he also looked down to the action. “A press in my soul. A whisper from God, whom I always trust with everything in my life… But there were so many pressures. To confess, so that you would know that you are loved; that your worth is more than just an innate talent for business. To keep it back, waiting for the time when you would be…” He shook his head and again met her gaze. “But being in the presence of a woman such as yourself, a passionate creature of depth and sensitivity I found myself saying the words even though you may not be ready. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Hurt me?” Rachel asked, confusion ringing in her tone. “Hurt me? You accept and love and lead and chastise in a way never had before: tenderly. Gently. With understanding and regard to my feelings. I have come to hurt myself each time I forcefully push you away,” she responded intensely.
“And you push me away to protect yourself,” he informed, his tone soft and as understanding as it had ever been. “You’ve had a hard life, Rachel, and… and making confessions such as this when you aren’t ready to hear them is arrogance, on my part.”
Surprise widened her eyes. “Arrogance?”
He nodded. “That my feelings and desires are more important than God’s or your own. That my choices are to be heeded and God’s ignored. That the passion of the moment is more… appropriate than protecting the passions of our future.” The extreme showing of shock in her features brought a softer smile to his face. “I told you I’m a rogue who has a tendency of following his heart. Well, of late that heart hasn’t wanted to follow God’s direction. Now I find myself hoping and praying that my bauble won’t negatively affect our relationship.”
“La! How do you live so passionately from moment to moment following only the possible faulty whispers of God? How can you trust Him so completely when there is no way to prove His involvement?”
Robert’s smile remained. “My soul and heart won’t believe He isn’t involved. Too many miracles to the contrary. Others would say the miracles are coincidence, but who is to say that isn’t only pronouncing the word incorrectly? My heart is at peace with the decision to believe in Him and listen to His–”
“Do you feel peace at confessing your feelings?”
The smile vanished and he blinked. “Pardon?”
“You say that your heart is at peace with your belief. If that is how you determine the truth of God, then why can’t it also be how you determine whether or not your confession of… love was His leading?”
Surprise and shock faded to thoughtfulness and a different type of listening. Then he smiled, his face softening as he continued to watch her. “God, You have fashioned a brilliant woman here,” he said quietly.
She flushed and forced a scoff, welcoming his encouragement and the extreme warmth at how he spoke it. “Don’t be absurd.”
“I’m not being absurd, Rachel. You are right, again, and I’m jealous that you seem to be a better believer than I myself.”
Rachel waved it aside, looking over at him in shock when he took her hand in his.
“Very well,” he surrendered in low voice, “I won’t regret my confession.”
At the tone of his statement and the expression in his eyes, Rachel felt another slip and then the coming of the ‘weakness’ of tears. She fought them back out of habit and a tenacious desire to protect something a part of her didn’t want: extreme calm. But the change in Robert’s expression confessed that he saw what she tried to hide. A talent that never failed to unnerve and terrify her. Terrify her because she knew she could no longer hide who she was. Terrify her because she had come to know that he accepted her because of it.
Rachel very slightly shook her head as her gaze held his, her soft whisper of “Don’t,” causing a deeper change in his features. Yet what did she ask? To not leave? To not change? To not abandon her to the woman she came to fear?
He gave her hands a gentle pressure. “I won’t, Angel.”
Those words dug deep into her soul, and she held them as tight as she clasped his hand with hers. She needed an ally, and with his confession had come a terror that this ally would be more than what she had been prepared to accept of him. He knew that. Had admitted to it. Had asked for forgiveness for putting her into a painful position. A position of fear, suspicion… and relief.
Rachel faced forward, her hand still clasping his. Many a man had confessed to feelings of love, but none had displayed a true and romantic support of it. Not as Robert had, with actions and words. What am I to do with this confession? Yet again her lack of training in the area of woman and lover showed her wanting in expertise and instinct. He loved her, and she did not know how to return the affection, or even how to pursue it. Instead, she felt suspicion and a terror that he would leave.
She lowered her gaze to her fan and his hand still enfolding hers, face paling when she again heard a whispered confession. Again, she slightly twitched, but once more he whispered it while giving his hold of her hand a gentle increase in pressure. He courted her. He pursued her. He understood her. He opened his past and his very self to her ridicule so as to prove his trustworthiness. Revealing weaknesses. Revealing strengths. Revealing facets of an honorable character--
“I love you.”
Rachel swallowed hard as she blinked away the burning, her hand tightening on his until her own hand throbbed with pain. Proving she was alive and not dreaming. Proving she was not trapped within a nightmare that would rob her of her remaining hope. Then she felt his soft lips press tenderly against her temple, causing a blink and the release of a single tear as he again whispered, “I love you, Ange,” against the skin in a tone that ushered the confession and admittance deeper than the others. Inviting her to begin a search for a lesser-known emotion that seemed to soar with each whisper.
~~~
Robert absently tapped the envelope against his fingertips as he stared blankly at the letter resting on the coffee table in his room at the hotel in Richmond. Each day he had reread the short and brusque letter. Each day it had served as a conviction toward a future confession. Each day the confession had been bitten back. Out of fear, very likely, but Robert couldn’t help hoping the hesitancy to be God’s whisper.
And if not… Robert tossed the envelope on top of the letter and sat back into the couch, covering his face with his hands and releasing a quick breath.
"Is this what you wanted?" Henry Samson had asked.
“To give her a choice? Yes,” he muttered.
Robert stared blankly at the ceiling. ‘And what choice has she been entrusted with now but that which is opposite my own?’ Yet Robert couldn’t force himself to believe that as the only reason she had accepted his attentions. Rachel had confessed trust, comradeship, attraction even. No. While the original acceptance may have been an escape, he didn’t believe it to be true anymore. She didn’t regret her decision, for he never saw that expression on her face. Intrigue, yes. Softness at times, yes. Suspicion, of course, though less. But not once regret or boredom. ‘Do you truly believe she would accept you if she knew you’re no different than ‘him’?’
Robert slowly swallowed. That answer he didn’t know, and he didn’t want to ask the question to find it. Why must this truth be revealed, Lord? I’ve set aside that future. I’ve put it behind me, deciding against it and putting the choices and controls back to their rightful place. Why must I now jeopardize it all? Why?
He sat up, the letter drawing his focus moments before he swiped it up. He buried a hand into his hair as he read it through yet again. A refusal to one and an acceptance of another; but one man. Torn between two roles, one he had never wanted and the other he had fully accepted; but one man. One he had come to despise, pushing him off to become a man who no longer let others choose his path…
Robert tightened his hand around the letter moments before throwing it aside. Each man would hurt her, though he would have given anything to not.
Pushing himself roughly to his feet, Robert muttered "Blast!" and then began pacing his room, rubbing trembling hands through his scalp as he desperately tried to pray himself off this particular path. Yet truth in a growing relationship wouldn’t let him go further than hearing those first fated words and their possible consequence. Her reaction. Her judgment. The betrayal and hurt.
"Not that, Lord."
But he couldn’t wait until they arrived at his father’s that next morning. Hearing the truth from Damon or his own father would have hurt her worse. No. He had to do it now. Tonight. So that she could escape, if she so chose. So that she wouldn’t be trapped in unfamiliar surroundings bombarded by those very people who held her life in seemingly uncaring hands.
"No," he muttered, stepping toward the door to jerk it open and-- he blinked. "Rachel," tone surprised.
Rachel’s slender form startled the same moment she lifted her head and eyes from their close scrutiny of a leather-bound book in her hands. A journal. "Robert," she said, voice calm, as was her expression.
Yet Robert felt something not right about the calm. It was too… complete. Lord? "It’s late," he observed carefully, "and Damon will be here early…"
"Yes." She again lowered her gaze to the book. "I could not sleep."
Robert absently nodded while releasing a deep breath. "Neither could I." Robert stepped out into the hall, drawing her gaze when he motioned toward a padded side-bench a little to their right and across the hall. "You seem as troubled by something as I am," he prompted as they progressed toward the bench.
Rachel absently nodded, fingers caressing the cover of the journal as she slowly sat. "I am."
"May I help?" he asked, lowering himself to sit beside her.
This time she shook her head. "I do not know," while continuing to consider and regard the journal in her hands. Then she lifted her emerald eyes to meet his gaze and offered it forward. "This is all I am able to offer of my past self."
Robert blinked as he focused on the book in her outstretched hand.
"You have asked twice when I began writing in verse," she continued, "and both times I have put off answering. Now, I have no reason. You have exposed your own verses to me, opening yourself up to ridicule though there wasn’t necessity…" Rachel offered the book a little more forward. "You deserve a return of the same intensity. A showing of the same trust."
Trust. A past self. A timid young woman. A vulnerability exposed… Robert swallowed hard, enfolding her hand and the book in both of his as he shook his head. "I don’t deserve this, Rachel." He met her surprised expression and again shook his head. "Not yet."
While Robert had expected her to voice an instantaneous ‘Why’, she didn’t. Instead, she closely examined his face and expression with the same continued calm. Then she slowly retrieved back the book, lowering it to her lap to hold it with both hands while saying "And so we come to what has bothered you these two days."
Robert’s gaze retreated from hers, focusing safely on her long and graceful fingers. He again swallowed hard, remembering the close regard he had noticed during their journey. Yet she had never mentioned them, so he had assumed she had only been considering a harmless thing about his person…
“Robert,” Rachel pressed, the calm of her voice colored with a hint of surprise.
Robert gave a slight twitch, and his quick glance to her features clearly saw her reaction to that.
“You appear more than a little troubled. I haven’t seen you thus since the revelation of my identity on the train.”
An opportunity squandered. Robert cleared his throat. “I am troubled, yes.” She continued an examination of his profile for several tense seconds. Lord…. Dear God in heaven, have mercy.
“I have never before seen such an intense dread and fear,” she admitted as she continued to regard him.
Then, forcing himself to meet and hold her gaze, he admitted “I don’t want to confess the reason for my trouble,” he admitted, “but the Lord keeps pressing me to do so.” He let out a long and deep breath. “I would rather rip out my own tongue….”
“The confession will damage our tentative friendship?”
He held his breath for a pained moment before forcing himself to speak the words “You will likely come to hate me.” Silence scrutiny followed; a regard unlike any he withstood before.
“Why have you not previously confessed this… fact?”
Her continued calm scratched like nails on his heart and soul. He tightened his fisted hands. “Cowardice?” he attempted through clenched teeth. “Stupidity?” He scoffed. “I didn’t think it necessary since I had decided against the course, choosing what I believed to be the better option. Perhaps it was, but I still didn’t follow through with my promise of complete honesty. Instead, I have purposefully misled you.”
He could practically feel her eyes boring into the side of his face as she regarded his expressions. “For my protection?” she finally asked, so slowly that each word was a torture in and of itself.
“That was how I had rationalized it to this point.” You are a fool!
Again the thoughtful silence and consideration of his response in tone, body language, and dialogue. Her complete scrutiny serving to give him hope while at the same time heightening the dread.
“And the confession now?” she queried. “Done also for my protection?”
Sending her a sidelong glance, the guard in her emerald eyes brought a lump to his throat. “You deserve to hear it from me and not my father, or yours, or anyone else,” he said in a somewhat gruff whisper, immediately swallowing the tightness of his throat. Why didn’t I confess before? But she hadn’t begun to trust him until recently. Will this sabotage even that? Would he be able to begin again?
“This confession is a ‘truth’.” He slightly inclined his head. “Have you known of it since my revelation of identity?” Again, he wordlessly nodded, feeling the doom rise again within the pregnant pause. “Have you misled by omitting facts? Or have you blatantly lied?”
This time he met her calmly serious and intensely thoughtful expression. “I’ve tried my best to never lie to you, Rachel, but….” Any other words would not be had, for what could he say to justify it?
“Misleading feels to be as wrong, in retrospect,” she finished.
To which he could only incline his head, unable to allow himself an answer or the hope of any future with her.
“I see.”
Then, to Robert’s horror, Rachel retrieved his hand and placed the ring within it. Once done, she faced forward. Robert closed his eyes as he tightened his hand around the ring, his insides twisting when he heard the rustling of her skirts as she stood–
“Oh,” she said in a voice colored with mild surprise. The tone drew Robert’s focus to her face, which showed the same. “You are the gentleman previously met at Lynette’s party,” she continued. “I apologize my intrusion into your private moment, sir. I was in search of a diversion and so decided to wander. I did not know there were other restless souls about; and one of a previous acquaintance.”
Robert gazed up at her in continued dumb shock, only her surprising smirk rousing him to answer. “Pardon?”
She made a graceful motion toward him with her closed fan. “Such must have been deep thoughts indeed. Again, do forgive me for the intrusion.”
“Oh… erm…” Robert stood, his confusion evident as he watched her face and the guarded amusement upon her features. “No… not at all. No intrusion, by any means.”
Rachel extended a hand. “My name is Rachel Samson, sir, forgive my presumption. I have often been accused of having a too-modern approach in my thinking; however, due to the fact no one else wonders these halls, who better to perform the duty?”
Staring down at her offered hand, Robert absently rubbed his left against the side of his leg, his other still fisted around the ring. Her ring. It had always been hers. It had to be hers. “Miss Samson, I….” He forced himself to meet her gaze, emerald eyes holding controlled calm darkened by a fear of what his confession could entail. “Miss Samson, I have been firmly instructed not to meet with you,” he admitted, his voice tight and barely controlled.
“Not meet with me?” she repeated, her emerald eyes widening ever-so-slightly as she lowered her hand. “But we’ve only just met. Who would have given you such an absurd instruction?”
He swallowed hard, the role-play making it hard not to harbor a whisper of hope. “Your father and mine.”
“Surely you jest. What ridiculous notion could my father have in the ordering of this? You seem an honorable gentleman, and I’ve met many a rogue and cad in my time abroad.”
Robert’s throat constricted around the words, but he shoved aside the fear; instead, giving his relationship with her up to God as he confessed, “I– I was your betrothed,” in a voice racked with the agony of his guilt. Tension stiffened Rachel’s body, her expression blank as she stared at him. “Your father has had us paired since your birth,” he continued in a low and gruff voice.
Rachel…. Rachel, please. His gaze held hers. All I have said has been true. I wanted to give you this choice.
She finally blinked, very slowly, and barely shook her head as she said, “No,” in a hushed voice.
Painfully, as if he tore his head from his body, Robert nodded. But I was going to your father to stand against the betrothal. Remember? Please, Rachel. Please remember.
She lowered her eyes, one hand fisted at her side while the other clutched her fan, white-knuckled. Body rigid. Breathing shallow and rapid as she more frequently blinked. Robert bit back the words he so wanted to say; fighting back, also, the overwhelming desire to take her hands. He could only watch her expressions while praying that it wasn’t the end. Hoping that his own stupidity hadn’t caused a possible rift. Praying that he hadn’t misheard the whisper upon his heart–
Rachel suddenly lifted her gaze, her green eyes dark and her face pale even as her voice remained calmly controlled. “You said ‘was to be’.”
Hope soared as he briefly nodded, swallowing all the words but “Yes. I decided to refuse the betrothal.”
“After so many years… Why now?”
All the reasons, deliberations, and rationalizations disappeared. Instead, he leaned forward while stretching his arms out in a gesture of pleading. “I couldn’t, Rachel.” He clearly noticed her twitch even as he continued. “After our meeting at the party and on the train again, my reluctance to follow through with the betrothal grew. All these years I had felt this… this hardness in my spirit that what they planned would only hurt us both, poisoning our relationship and tainting that which I saw could be a wonderful friendship. It didn’t matter that the rebellion would likely mean an end to a life of wealth. I hadn’t ever wanted my actions defined by that. I had to follow God’s press on my heart, and that meant saying ‘No’ and offering you a choice you deserved to have. One that we both should have been trusted with.”
Robert swallowed hard at the continued cool calmness of her face; her almost determined hold of his gaze. The stark rigidity of her form. “Rachel…” he said, his voice gruff, “Rachel, I’m sorry for this betrayal. Please forgive me. I should have confessed to it sooner, but I… I had put it out of my heart as a ‘truth’ to be confessed once I decided to rebel against the betrothal. I refused to view my relationship with you as anything but your choice to accept or not. If you rejected my favor, I would have never bothered you again. I promise that, Rachel. I would not have allowed you to be brow-beaten into a marriage with a stranger. How could I? I had come to despise his weakness and complacency–”
“Stop.”
Robert clamped his mouth shut, tightening his fisted hands as he slowly straightened and fought against the fear and desperation. Your will, Lord. Not mine. Your will. Yours. Yours…. He swallowed hard as Rachel continued to stand silent and chilled. Calm, but with a pale face and dark-green eyes that tore at his soul as he fisted her ring and held her gaze, silently begging God to perform a miracle he didn’t deserve.
“The Robert Trent introduced to me thus far has been neither weak nor compliant,” she informed finally, her voice taut. “He understood duty. He understood responsibility and admirably performed his best to follow requirements made upon his person. Through the duty he continued to trust God, showing a dedication to a dual purpose that not many in such a position can claim.”
Robert’s head began to throb with the tightness of his clenched jaw and the intensity of his prayers as he forced himself to hold her guarded emerald gaze.
“Even now,” she continued, her head tilting upward somewhat, “confessing what could be a truth that causes an end to a tentative friendship and fondness, this man presses determinedly forward while dedicated to truth and honesty as well as a continuation of the following of a supernatural press in his soul. Is this gentleman weak and complacent? No, and you do him wrong by calling him such.”
Robert blinked in shock, especially at a surprising spark – though brief – within her depths of green. It had seemed one of determination and yet… indignation. “I apologize,” he said absently, still not certain whether or not to believe she had spoken in his defense. To him.
“I accept,” she voiced stiffly.
Then Rachel crossed her arms and looked away, her hand still white-knuckled as it clutched her fan, and her left foot taking up the duty of tapping the lush carpet as her cheeks flushed. Green eyes now sparkled with determination, causing a burning in Robert’s chest at how such an intensity made her even more beautiful– He lowered his gaze and clenched his jaw.
“Surprisingly,” Rachel finally said, “I do not blame you. Nor am I angry.”
Robert’s head snapped up. “What?” he hissed. How could he hope that what he had heard her say wasn’t his own wishful thinking?
“It is my father and yours to blame for this path of hard choices and challenging calculations into responses and necessary confessions. If they had but chosen to be as honorable in presenting us the opportunities of building a friendship and relationship beforehand, many of these decisions could have been put off and our passions focused elsewhere.”
She sharply met his gaze, determination glowing within emerald. “This is not to mean I am not irritated it has taken this long for you to confess this particular aspect of your role within the betrothal. Your reasoning is understood. Your decision against the betrothal is appreciated further. Your loyalty to my person and my friendship, again, making it difficult to remain angry with you.”
Rachel pressed her lips into a pale line. “Which is another irritation, due mostly to the fact that I would very much like to slap someone’s face, though it would be cruel to do so to you since you seem to have been slapping yourself down for months, if not years, already.” Then she uncrossed her arms with a harsh motion, pressing a finger deep into his chest as her green eyes sparked. “Mislead me in such a fashion again, Robert Trent, and I will have it out with you. Audience or no.”
Robert wordlessly nodded his head, his eyes slightly wide as the shock at her unexpected response ate at the corners of his mind, only allowing a vague and slightly dazed prayer of thanks.
A curt nod was her response, and then she again presented her free hand. “Now. The ring?”
He presented his fisted hand, having a bit of a challenge to open it after such a long period of clutching. When he did, the impression of the ring had dug itself deep into his scar, causing an odd shift to Rachel’s expression. Her features softened, burning in him a temptation and desire to caress her face. Instead, he remained rigidly still as she reached out her hand to tenderly caress the scar while retrieving the ring. Her fingers then tracing the scar and the ring’s circular impression made by his desperate hold.
Then she finally lifted her dark gaze to hold his. “I do not understand why I am able to continually trust you. Such an action goes against my training. It goes against the business mind that I feel continually fighting against the woman Mother taught me to be. Yet my determination to not allow fear the upper-hand continues to press me forward. With the accepting of this ring. With the acceptance of your apology. With the acceptance of your affection. Your courting. Your friendship. Your opinion. You.”
Rachel lowered her gaze to her hand still in his, missing Robert’s heavy swallow and his quick action of fisting his free hand behind his back.
“Instead, I become addicted to the feeling of trust and tenaciously fight to keep it, even after this revelation. Would I have so accepted your apology if I had not come to know you through your actions of honor and regard for my person? If I had not come to view your friendship as an asset? Would I have believed your intensity if it did not almost perfectly equal what you have vaguely confessed up to this point?”
She released a long and deep breath before moving her hand away from his and once again meeting his gaze. “I have never before met a man as desirable in appearance and persona as you, Robert Leonard Trent, and though Miss Samson battles against her, Rachel Byron wishes to continue forward in this desire. She wishes to have that which previously hid in dreams: A hero and prince for husband and lover. You have but to continue your fight against the chilled Miss Samson.”
Again, Robert swallowed hard as he slightly nodded, his fist tightening to the point that he heard his knuckles pop and could practically feel the bones of his fingers begin to bend with the threat of breaking. God… help…. Then the desire and love for her drowned the remaining prayer, leaving it to impressions and feelings of an overwhelming need to protect and encourage her–
Rachel stepped close to hold his face in her hands, the warmth of the ring in her fingers a welcome feeling against his skin. “Do not give up your fight against her, Robert. She loses the battle against your honor and intensity. She begins to love you.”
“Rachel.” He drew her tight against him, focusing his eyes heavenward as she accepted his touch, his faults, his self, and her ring.