Reese’s heart pounded, echoing in his chest like artillery fire. Most days, he spent a considerable amount of energy trying to avoid thinking about his time on the front lines—and specifically his last week there.
But now Sophie was lying beside him, asking him to remember those days. To walk through those minefields and relive the horror so that she could understand. For her, he was willing to subject himself to the pain and misery. She deserved to know how damaged he was, how broken. Even if exposing the wounds left him bloody and raw.
Though the bedchamber was fairly dark, Sophie’s eyes glowed encouragingly. He focused on her like a sailor spying a lighthouse through a storm.
“It feels like another lifetime,” he began, “but it was only a few months ago. I was on the front lines in Portugal, when a messenger arrived at our encampment—with an urgent message for me.” The memory, vivid and raw, made him shudder involuntarily.
“Before I read the letter, I think I knew what it would say. The dread in my bones was so cold, so heavy, I had to force myself to break the seal on the letter. When I did, the nightmare was unleashed. Edmund was dead.”
“Oh, Reese,” Sophie said, her throat thick with empathy. “I’m so sorry. That must have been awful—especially when you were so far from home.”
“I couldn’t help but think that I should have been here with him. That maybe I would have been able to prevent it.”
“No,” she said firmly. “You cannot blame yourself, Reese. Not even a little bit. What happened to your brother was a tragic accident—and accidents, by their very nature, are unpredictable.”
“He was the one person I’d always been able to rely on,” he said. “My mother took ill when I was a child, and after she died, my father turned angry and cruel. Edmund was the one who always looked out for me. He devoted much of his life to raising me and taking care of the estate.”
“No wonder you were so close,” she said softly.
Reese let out a shaky breath. “Do you want to know the ironic thing? Edmund begged me not to purchase a commission in the army. He said that it was too dangerous. That he couldn’t bear the thought that I might not come home.”
“I’d feel the same way if I thought my sister was placing herself in danger,” she said. “We always worry about the ones we love.”
“That’s just it.” He gave a hollow laugh. “I didn’t worry about him when I left. He was supposed to be safe here. I never dreamed any harm would come to him.”
“It must have been a terrible shock,” she said soberly.
Every muscle in Reese’s body coiled tight, and his arms twitched with pent-up emotion. “It should have been me,” he whispered. “Instead of him. He should be alive now. God, fate, the universe—whatever you want to call it—made a mistake.”
Sophie reached out a hand like she wanted to touch his cheek, then pulled back, her eyes shining with regret. “Edmund shouldn’t have been taken from this world in the prime of his life—but that doesn’t mean you should have been. Sometimes awful, tragic, pointless things just … happen. It’s why we need to be thankful for every day we have on this earth.” She paused and swiped at her eyes. “I’m thankful that you’re here, too—and that I’ve had the chance to know you.”
Reese breathed in through his nose, then slowly exhaled through his mouth, trying to let the anguish drain out of him. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Sophie.”
“Maybe not. But I know you’re a good, kind person.”
He snorted at that. “If I was, I’d sleep a hell of a lot better at night.”
“You’re not going to scare me away,” she said serenely. “I’m here—and I’m not going anywhere. You say that I don’t know you, but I want to. Desperately. So why don’t you start by telling me what it is, exactly, that haunts you.”
His fingertips tingled and his head began to buzz. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words caught in his throat.
As though she could sense his distress, she scooted a little closer to him. The scents of rain and earth and sunshine filled his head, calming him slightly. “I assume it’s related to your time in the infantry.”
He nodded, grateful that she seemed to understand.
“Tell me,” she said gently. “Drag the monsters out of your head and name them; perhaps then, you’ll rob them of their power.”
“I made a promise to my men. To my friends,” he choked out. “I told them that I’d always fight beside them, that I’d never desert them. They knew I couldn’t promise that we’d all make it home alive, but I swore I’d stand by them, no matter what.”
“But then Edmund died,” Sophie said, her voice tinged with sadness.
“Yes.” Reese turned on his back and stared at the ceiling, blinking back tears. “I didn’t want to leave them, but I … I had to see to my brother’s final arrangements. I had to say goodbye to Edmund.”
“I’m sure your men understood.”
“They couldn’t have been more supportive.” He’d been half in shock at that point, and yet he remembered saying goodbye to Conroy and the others. They’d given him bracing slaps on his shoulders and promised to make him proud. Brave and charismatic with a wickedly dry wit, Conroy was a captain, and the obvious choice to take over in Reese’s absence. In an uncharacteristically sober moment, he’d given Reese’s hand a firm shake and told him he’d make a fine earl.
That handshake and those words had hit him like an ice bath. It was the moment he’d realized he’d never return to the front lines. Never fight alongside his friends again.
“The very next day, it happened,” he rasped out.
“What happened?” Sophie asked.
“A surprise attack on my troop.” Reese’s stomach clenched with a potent mix of anger and pain. “They fought valiantly, but Conroy and two others were mortally wounded. They died on the battlefield,” he said, his voice somewhere between bitter and hollow. “Brutal, tragic deaths. And I wasn’t with them.”
He scrubbed his face with his hands and blinked up at the ceiling, too ashamed to look Sophie in the eyes. “You asked what haunts me,” he said raggedly. “It’s the memory of their faces as I left them. They tried to act tough, keeping their chins up and puffing their chests out. But we were close as brothers and I could see the fear, cold and stark, in their eyes. They were scared out of their bloody minds, Sophie. But I still rode away that night. Still left them there to fight alone.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Reese,” she said firmly—like she believed it. Like it was the end of the story.
At last, he turned to look at her, hoping to drive home the truth. “I broke my solemn promise. I came home; Conroy and the others didn’t.”
“I’m so sorry about your friends.” The raspiness in her voice made his eyes sting. “I understand why the memory tortures you. You loved them, and you felt responsible for them.”
“Exactly.”
“But I stand by what I said earlier. It wasn’t your fault,” she said fervently. “And if you want to find a measure of peace, you must believe that.”
He nodded, pretending to be agreeable. But the truth was that he didn’t deserve to find peace. The sleeplessness, the nightmares—those were his penance. A constant reminder of his failings as a human being.
“In any event,” he said, “now you know what haunts me.”
“Thank you for confiding in me,” she said sincerely. “Despite what you might think, nothing that you told me changes the way I feel about you.”
“No?” he asked, skeptical.
“Actually, it does change my feelings,” she admitted, and his stomach clenched again as he braced himself for what came next. “Now that I know some of what you’ve been through, I admire you, care for you, even more than I did before.”
Reese released the breath he’d been holding and managed a weak smile. “You also asked about what makes me happy.”
She smiled back and looked at him, expectant. “I did.”
“That’s an infinitely easier question with a much shorter answer. There’s only one thing that makes me happy, and that’s being with you.”
Sophie longed to reach out to Reese. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and make his pain go away. She wanted to will him to believe that all she said was true. But mostly, she wanted him to know that she loved him.
He’d just bared his soul to her, and words … well, they simply didn’t feel adequate to express the emotion in her chest.
His large, tanned hand rested on the coverlet between them. It would be so easy, so natural, to lace her fingers through his. The problem was that Sophie already knew that holding his hand wouldn’t be enough. She’d want to wriggle against the hard planes of his chest and press her lips to the skin above his collar. She’d insist on slipping her palms inside his shirt and running them over his shoulders and down his back.
And still, she’d crave more of him.
Worse, she knew that if she ever had a taste of physical intimacy with Reese, it would be infinitely harder to say goodbye to him. So, even though her whole body ached with the need to hold him, she couldn’t.
Nor could she reveal the depths of her feelings—not when she was about to accept a proposal from another man. Since it would have amounted to torture for both of them, she settled for giving him a muted version of the truth.
She gazed at him lying next to her, more vulnerable and handsome than ever. “Earlier tonight, outside the tailor’s shop, you told me you wished things were different.”
“I remember,” he said.
Tears welled in her eyes, and she was grateful for the relative darkness. “I wish things were different, too,” she said.
“How?”
“I wish we were both free to follow our hearts.”
He gazed into her eyes but didn’t say anything—at least not out loud. But the expression on his face revealed more than he probably knew: relief, frustration, and affection.
Sophie didn’t delude herself into thinking that Reese loved her like she loved him, but they had a connection that was deep, intense, and true. Perhaps it was silly of her, but she imagined that maybe years from now, sometime after she was married to Lord Singleton and after Reese had battled his demons, they’d still think of each other.
Maybe they’d remember how they felt on this night and take comfort from the knowledge that they’d been friends … and more. No matter what happened, they’d always share this connection.
“Your eyelids are drooping,” Reese said, his voice affectionately gruff. “Why don’t you rest?”
Sophie sighed, snuggling her cheek against her pillow. “You’ll stay here with me?”
“Yes,” he said. “At least until you fall asleep. And after that, I’ll be in my bedchamber, just down the hall.”
She frowned but was too tired to protest. Reese was with her now … and that was enough.