by Bree Wolf
Closing his eyes, Connor took a deep breath. Deep down he had known that all her fears and doubts could not be overcome in one night. It was progress, but it was not the end. He had not yet won her heart, and he was far from winning her trust.
If only he knew what to do. Never in his life had he felt so helpless. She was his wife, and he had sworn to protect her, and yet, he could only stand by and watch her battle the demons of her past alone.
“Are ye all right, Lass?” he whispered into the dark.
Again, the muscles in her shoulders tensed, and he felt her limbs straining to distance themselves from him, and so he reluctantly released his hold on her.
Immediately, she rolled away, turning her back to him, the blanket clutched in her hands as though it were a lifeline.
Propping himself up on one elbow, Connor looked at her as the dark reclaimed his own heart as well. It was as though they were one; whenever she suffered so did he. “Did I hurt ye?” he asked, afraid that he had done something to cause her pain.
Again, a shiver shook her slender frame before she abruptly sat up, pulling the blanket around her. In the dim light, her eyes were dark as they searched her surroundings. Then she bent forward and snatched her nightgown off the floor, hastily pulling it over her head as though trying to hide herself from him.
“Please talk to me, Lass.”
Instead, she fled the bed, her trembling hands reaching for the night robe that hung on the peg by her wardrobe.
Concerned by the frantic look in her eyes, Connor slipped from the bed. Stepping towards her, he hesitated and then pulled his own nightshirt on as well.
Just as she was about to fling open the door, he grabbed her and spun her around.
Her eyes were round as plates, and she looked like a cornered animal as she stared up at him, her jaw trembling.
“I mean ye no harm, Lass,” he tried to assure her. The thought that she would be so fearful of him pained him greatly.
“I know,” she whispered to his surprise. Her body, however, continued to tremble as he urged her back toward the bed.
Sitting down on the mattress, she pulled up her legs and wrapped her arms around her knees, her teeth chattering.
Connor took a deep breath and then knelt down before her. “What frightens ye so, Lass? Can ye not tell me?” He swallowed as her eyes met his. “Let me help ye. There’s nothing I wouldna do for ye.”
The ghost of a smile touched her lips, and yet, she shook her head. “I know. I just…” As she shook all over, her fingers dug into her arms and her eyes held a desperate plea. “I c-cannot h-help it. I c-can’t m-make it s-stop,” she stammered.
Connor rose to his feet and then reached for her, feeling the need to hold her in his arms.
Seeing his intention, his wife shrank back, her eyes widening.
“I willna hurt ye,” he pleaded as his heart twisted in his chest. Nothing had ever pained him so than seeing the all-consuming fear in her eyes in that moment.
Scrambling back to the other side of the bed, she pulled the blanket around herself, once more hugging her knees to her body. Wide eyes met his as big, round tears streamed down her face. “I know,” she whispered again and again.
Not knowing what to do, Connor stared at her.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice choked with the emotions running rampant in her heart. “I really thought I could…” She swallowed. “I wanted to believe that…” For a moment, her eyes closed. “I did not mean to hurt you,” she whispered, “but I cannot give you what I don’t have.”
Frowning, Connor stepped toward her. “What? But I−”
Instantly, she backed away, shaking her head. “I am broken,” she whimpered, sobs tearing from her throat. “You need to let me go. Y-you need to move on.” Forcing back her tears, she pressed her lips together, trying to regain control. “Please hear me; I cannot give you what you seek.”
As complete hopelessness washed over him, Connor finally understood how she felt. Despite her efforts, despite understanding the origins of her fears, she was helpless. Whenever they wished, her demons would seize her, and although she had fought them before she could not do so indefinitely. One day, they would win, and then she would be lost.
Lost to herself, and lost to him.
It was inevitable; was it not?
As she cowered on the bed, the picture of misery, Connor knew that he had to find a way to save her, to protect her from herself. If she could not fight her demons alone, then he would find a way to stand with her.
“All right,” he finally said. “I will leave for the night so that ye can rest, but ye have to give me yer word that ye willna venture from this room, Lass.” He held her gaze until she nodded. Then he stepped back and headed for the door. Turning back to look at her, he added, “Every wound can heal, Lass. It might leave a scar that will always remind ye of the injury ye once had−it might even pain ye−but it will only be an echo of what once was.”
Closing the door behind him, Connor fervently hoped that he was right.
Chapter Twenty − Meant to Be
When the sun finally began its ascent, Henrietta still sat in bed, staring at the wall, her gaze unseeing to what was around her. Her sobs had quietened long ago; her throat, however, was raw. Swollen and red-rimmed, her eyes felt as though they were on fire, and every muscle in her body ached.
Her heart, though, was what pained her most. One moment, it would almost double-over in agony as though a searing-hot dagger had been plunged into it. A moment later, all emotions would vanish into thin air, leaving behind an emptiness that almost made her wish for the pain to return.
Her husband’s face occasionally floated before her mind’s eye, adding guilt to the pool of emotions that assaulted her. Her thoughts, however, remained unfocused, and she could not have voiced a single one had someone been there to hear it.
As the sun climbed higher, Henrietta closed her eyes, its brilliant sting a physical pain she had not expected. Lying back down, she curled up into a ball; her heart beat a faint echo of the night before.
Soft footsteps echoed to her ears then, and before her soul could even cry out in pain, the door opened, and her mother-in-law walked in.
Relieved, Henrietta sighed, knowing that Rhona would not ask for answers. Rhona simply knew.
Approaching the bed, the older woman placed a wooden tray on the mattress, and the scent of warm bread and tea drifted over. In answer, Henrietta’s stomach growled in protest at having been so considerably neglected.
“Sit up, Child,” Rhona said in her gentle voice as she stepped forward and fluffed up the pillow, helping Henrietta to settle back against the headboard. Then she placed the tray on her lap, pulled up a chair and sat down.
Slowly, Henrietta sipped her tea, her stomach welcoming the nourishment like never before. Although she did not taste the bread, its warmth felt wonderful, and the pain in her stomach subsided. All the while, her mother-in-law waited quietly.
Relieved not to be pounded with questions, Henrietta relaxed, and the ache in her sore muscles calmed. When she had finished eating, she lay back, her eyes suddenly heavy with fatigue.
“Sleep, Child,” Rhona whispered. As though it had been a command, Henrietta’s eyes closed, and she was soon lost to the world.
How long she slept, Henrietta did not know. However, when her eyes opened once more, she found Rhona still sitting by her side, a soft smile on her kind face.
“It was a deep sleep,” the older woman observed as she leaned forward and took Henrietta’s hand. “I trust ye feel better rested now.”
Swallowing, Henrietta nodded as images of the previous night found their way back into her conscious mind.
“He feels helpless.”
Henrietta peered at the older woman from under her eyelashes. “Who?”
An indulgent smile came to Rhona’s lips. “He has never known a problem he couldna solve, and it frightens him.”
Averting her eyes, Henrietta swallowe
d. “I did not mean to cause a problem.”
Rhona chuckled. “It will do the boy good to test his limits. I love him dearly, but occasionally he is too full of himself.”
Henrietta felt a smile tug at the corners of her mouth. She could not help but wonder about how strange her mother-in-law was; and yet, she did not wish her to be any different. “Did he tell you…about last night?”
Glancing at the older woman from under her eyelashes, Henrietta found her shaking her head. “He didna,” Rhona said, “and he never would. Not without yer permission.”
Henrietta took a deep breath as a gentle warmth touched her heart. “He is a good man,” she whispered, wondering when she had come to believe that.
“He is,” Rhona agreed, her sharp eyes watching, observing. “Ye opened yer heart to him last night, did ye not, Child?”
“I did not mean to,” Henrietta admitted, her fingers playing with the corner of the blanket. “It simply happened.”
“We rarely mean to. The great loves are the ones we don’t see coming. They sweep us off our feet and knock the air from our lungs.” Rhona chuckled. “I hated my late husband on sight.”
Henrietta’s eyes snapped up. “You did?”
Rhona nodded. “He was an overbearing, loud, mule-headed man, and when we first met, I wanted to claw his eyes out every time he opened his mouth. That’s when I knew.”
“Knew what?”
Rhona shrugged. “That I would one day lose my heart to him whether I wanted to or not.”
“Did you never regret it?”
“I might have had he not also lost his to me,” her mother-in-law said, a wistful smile on her face. “Despite all his faults, at his core he was a good man, and he loved me.” Rhona reached out and took Henrietta’s hand, her eyes meaningful as she spoke. “As my son loves ye. Has he told ye so?”
Averting her gaze, Henrietta nodded.
“Good boy,” her mother-in-law said. “Life is too short to be hiding from the people we love. He can be overbearing, but deep down he knows his path.” Gently, she squeezed Henrietta’s hand. “And he knows that his path lies with ye.”
Overwhelmed, Henrietta withdrew her hand. Pulling up her knees once more, she hugged them to her chest, gently rocking back and forth.
All the while, Rhona’s watchful eyes followed her. “It scares ye. To hear that someone cares for ye feels like a curse to ye.”
As tears streamed down her face, Henrietta’s fingers dug painfully into her arms. “I don’t know why. I know it is foolish, but I can’t help it.”
After rising from her chair, Rhona settled onto the bed, and her right hand gently took hold of Henrietta’s chin, turning her head. “Ye’re not yer mother, Child; nor is my son yer father. Not everyone is doomed to repeat what ye lived through.”
“I know,” Henrietta sobbed. “Please believe me. I know. But I can’t…”
Rhona nodded. “Yer demons are strong,” she observed, “and they refuse to show ye any mercy.” Leaning forward, she looked deep into Henrietta’s eyes. “Ye will have to fight them, or they will never release ye.” Rhona took a deep breath, and a hint of sorrow came to her eyes. “Listen, Child, we all have regrets, moments in our past we wish we could alter, we wish we could have seen coming.”
Sensing the pain in her mother-in-law’s words, Henrietta found the ache in her own heart subsiding, and she took a hold of Rhona’s hand.
Closing her hand more tightly around Henrietta’s, Rhona sighed. “I knew my husband would die,” she whispered. “I saw it in my dreams.”
“What?” Henrietta gasped.
“And yet, I couldna save him,” the older woman went on as though she was alone in the room. “I only caught a glimpse of what would happen, and I misinterpreted the signs. He slipped through my fingers like so many before.” She lifted her gaze to Henrietta. “That is why I rarely act upon my dreams now. A part of me feels that what is meant to happen will, and my dreams merely intend to prepare me for what is to come, not change the outcome. Too much knowledge about the future causes more harm than good.”
“And yet, you sent Connor to England,” Henrietta whispered, “to find me.”
Rhona nodded, a soft smile on her face. “I’m only human, Child. My heart, too, beats for those I love. I do not regret trying to save my husband’s life; nor do I regret sending my son to find his one true love.” As a blush came to Henrietta’s cheeks, Rhona squeezed her hand. “Whatever my dreams are meant to do, I believe that you two were meant for each other.”
Fresh tears welled up, and Henrietta squeezed her eyes shut. “Your words sound wonderful,” she whispered, then once again she met Rhona’s eyes. “So wonderful that I do want to believe them.” A smile came to her face that she couldn’t suppress. “I want him. I do. I didn’t realise it before but…” Swallowing, she shook her head. “I cannot change who I am. I am beyond hope. I cannot give him what he deserves.”
“Ye think too much, Child,” Rhona chided, her gentle eyes smiling. “My son loves ye. His heart is already yers, and ye do not have the power to return it even if ye wish ye could. If nothing else, believe that. Nothing ye do will sway him from yer side, and the sooner ye come to accept that, the sooner ye will find the strength to slay yer demons. We canna know what the future will bring,” Rhona said, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, “but what good is the present if we always live in fear of what might happen?”
Henrietta shook her head. “I don’t want to be afraid anymore, but I don’t think I can stop. It is who I am. My fears and doubts and suspicions are a part of me. I don’t know who I am without them.”
“Don’t ye want to find out?” Rhona asked, her eyes holding a challenge that spoke to something deep in Henrietta’s being. “Do not think too much, Child; for once in yer life, simply live. Go to my son, find out what kind of man he is, and allow him to find out who ye are.” Again, she squeezed Henrietta’s hand. “And when yer fears and doubts return, give them a voice. Do not hide them. Do not keep them to yerself. Share them with him, and with time, their voices will grow quieter. I promise.”
Closing her eyes, Henrietta felt a strange sense of peace sweep through her, and although her doubts remained, she did not feel overwhelmed by them as she had before. If only Rhona was right! If only there was a way for her to live without fear, to love without restraint!
Her husband’s face rose before her inner eye, and Henrietta wondered how she had not seen it before. Whenever he looked at her, love and devotion shone in his eyes. His words had always been truthful; never had he lied to her. And despite the animosity she had shown him, he had always been by her side, doing his utmost to protect her, even from herself. Never had he raised his hand to her. Never ignored her objections. Never punished her for speaking her mind. If anyone was worthy of her trust, it was him!
A soft smile tugged up the corners of her mouth as Henrietta opened her eyes and met Rhona’s patient gaze. “I will try,” she whispered as tears of joy rolled down her cheeks. “I promise I will try.”
“Ye’re a strong woman,” Rhona said, her own eyes moist with emotion, “and I’m proud to call ye my daughter.”
Chapter Twenty-One − A Love Match
After Rhona helped her into a new gown, Henrietta ventured downstairs. For a moment, she stopped outside her husband’s study but then quickly walked past, knowing that she wasn’t quite ready to face him yet. Instead, she stepped outside, welcoming the warm rays of the sun on her skin and crossing the rose garden. She then squeezed through the gap in the hedge.
As always Deidre’s little oasis welcomed her, and a sense of peace and warmth washed over her still frayed nerves.
“Good day,” came Deidre’s voice, and Henrietta spun around, startled.
Catching her breath, she looked at the young woman, and a smile spread over her face. “It is as though you are a part of this garden, Deidre, and it hides you from those around you, keeping you safe.”
A radiant smile on her face, Deidre st
epped toward her, brushing her dirt-stained hands on her apron. “That’s beautiful.” Nodding her head, she gazed around her little haven. “I do feel at home here.” Then she turned back to Henrietta, and her eyes became serious. “How are ye? Ye look as though ye’ve had a rough night.”
Knowing how red her eyes still looked, Henrietta nodded. “I did,” she admitted, “but I’m starting to feel better.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Deidre said, honest relief in her eyes as they continued to watch Henrietta.
Clearing her throat, Henrietta stepped around the young woman, trying to collect her thoughts. “May I ask you something? About your marriage?”
“Certainly.”
Unsure how to begin, Henrietta heard Rhona’s voice echo in her head. “How did you come to be married?” she asked straight-forward. “Was it a contract?”
A dreamy smile came to Deidre’s face, and in the blink of an eye, Henrietta understood the deep connection between the young woman and her husband. “No, it wasna. In fact, his parents encouraged him to choose a different bride.” Her eyes shone as bright as stars. “But he loved me, and he wouldna hear of it.”
“Why would they?” Henrietta asked, hoping her questions would not offend the young woman.
“Because I’m fragile.” Meeting her gaze, Deidre sighed, and sadness came to her eyes. “As was my mother. After miscarrying many times, she finally managed to carry me full-term, but then she died giving birth to me.”
“I’m sorry,” Henrietta whispered, remembering the little sister she could have had. “So, his parents were afraid that he would lose you as well.”
A soft chuckle escaped Deidre, and she shook her head. “I do not wish to speak ill of them, but they were never the sort of devoted, kind-hearted parents that Rhona and Ewan were. They had expectations, and they tried their best to instil them in their children.” She shrugged, and a deep smile came to her face. “I suppose he would have married according to their wishes, had I not captured his heart. His parents never forgave me for that.”
