By sitting with his back to the water, he'd almost forgotten it was there, and was able to enjoy both the casual meal and her company. And now, full and sleepy, his spine settled against the willow's trunk and Carolyn's head resting in his lap, he lightly played with a tendril of her silky hair.
Bloody hell, the thought of this day ending filled him a sense of loss that confounded him. One that had him flailing in a quagmire of completely unfamiliar emotions-emotions he'd valiantly but unsuccessfully fought all day to keep at bay.
He kept hoping sanity would slap him, stop him from this seemingly unstoppable headlong plunge into the emotional abyss yawning before him. But it seemed he was helpless to halt his descent. Helpless to stop wanting her. Touching her. Simply being with her. And completely unprepared to know how to navigate such previously unchartered emotional waters.
He looked down and watched her study a tiny yellow flower she'd plucked from the grass. Such a simple act, yet one that utterly enchanted him. There was something so natural about her. She didn't possess the haughty demeanor of so many women of his class, no doubt because she wasn't born into the peerage. She was a viscountess now, yet in spite of her status, retained an air of easygoing charm that utterly captivated him. The look of wonder that entered her eyes at the sound of a wren's warble or the sight of a butterfly or a tiny yellow flower intoxicated him.
"You don't take things for granted." He hadn't meant to say the words out loud, but when he did, Carolyn lifted her chin and gazed up at him.
She studied him through serious eyes for several seconds then nodded. "I try not to. I've been given more than I ever thought to possess. More than I deserve. But I've also lost a great deal. When the thing you love most in the world is snatched away from you…" Her voice trailed off and she frowned, then returned her gaze to the yellow flower.
She meant Edward, of course, the man she'd loved, and continued to love, so deeply. He was unprepared for the profound fissure of envy that ripped through him. How would it feel to be so adored? For someone to consider you that which they loved most in the world?
A frown bunched his brow. He'd never before wondered such a thing. He supposed it must feel good, although he had no way of knowing. Certainly no one had ever loved him that way.
"I do my best to appreciate what I still have," she said softly, "although it's been a difficult journey."
Her words made him realize how often he took his own privileged life and position for granted, and shame filled him. "You've inspired me to follow your example and be more appreciative," he said.
Her gaze flew to his and there was no missing the surprise in her eyes. "You are the inspiring one, Daniel. The way you've helped Samuel and Katie and those poor animals." She shot him a quizzical look then shook her head. "You don't have any idea how wonderful you are, do you?"
He was prevented from voicing the incredulous sound that rose in his throat by the lump that settled there at her question. The oddest sensation flowed through him, one he couldn't name, as he'd never felt it before. One that made it seem as if he'd been wrapped up in a warm, velvety blanket on a cold, winter night.
Bloody hell, again she was gazing up at him as if he were some sort of hero. And while he couldn't deny that having her look at him like that made him feel so damn good, neither could he deny the guilt that nipped at him for not correcting her. Because she was incredibly wrong.
He managed a weak smile and skimmed his hand lightly over her soft hair. "I'm glad you think so."
She smiled, then settled her head more comfortably in his lap and closed her eyes. "I know so."
He shut his eyes as well, allowing himself a few minutes to recover from the emotions welling inside him. But that few minutes, coupled with almost no rest last night, lulled him into a much needed sleep. The next thing he knew, his backside was numb and he realized he must have dozed off. He moved his hand to touch Carolyn and felt nothing. Blinking his heavy lids open, he saw he was alone under the tree.
"Carolyn?" Not seeing her wandering amongst the copse of trees in front of him, he turned to look behind him, toward the lake. And froze.
Carolyn, her back to him, wearing only her thin chemise, stood in the lake, the water lapping at her hips. Chilled fingers of icy fear raced up his spine to wrap around his throat-terrifying glimmers emerging from the dark place he kept them ruthlessly buried. As he watched, she moved forward, the water rising to her waist.
The rational part of his mind told him she was fine, but the memories he'd locked away so long ago bombarded him, mixing the past with the present, rushing sick, cold dread through him, twisting his insides into a painful knot.
With his heart beating so hard it felt as if each thud bruised his ribs, he rose on shaky legs and pulled in an unsteady breath.
"Carolyn!"
Her name sounded rough and hoarse, and he heard the panic gripping him. She turned at the sound, and unlike all those years ago, he was offered a sunny smile. A cheerful wave. But then his vision seemed to waver and instead of loose honey-colored hair he saw a dark braid. And eyes, so empty and bleak.
He blinked, and Carolyn's bright smile again swam before him. Her lips moved, saying something to him, but he couldn't hear above the roar in his ears. She waved again then turned and waded deeper into the water. He started forward on unsteady legs and shouted at her to come back, but just then she lost her footing. Her arms flailed and with a cry she went down. And disappeared beneath the water's glasslike surface.
God Almighty, not again. Not again.
The words reverberated through his mind, a bloodcurdling mantra. Everything inside him turned to ice, and for a single stuttering heartbeat he vividly relived what he'd spent years trying to forget. Then, with a jagged cry that seemed rendered from the very depths of his soul, he roared, "No!" and ran into the lake, frantic to reach her. He swam toward her, desperately fighting his past and his memories but failing.
Carolyn's head popped above the surface, and with a sputter she spit out a mouthful of lake water. A huff of incredulous laughter escaped her and she brushed at the tangled strands of hair plastered to her face. How clumsy could she be? Good heavens, her feet had gone right out from underneath her.
Shaking her head at her lack of grace, she struggled to rise. She'd just gained her balance when strong hands grabbed her upper arms and roughly turned her around. Blinking away the lake water clinging to her lashes, she looked up at Daniel. A self-conscious laugh escaped her and she again shoved at the hair clinging to her face.
"Can you believe I…"
Her words trailed off, as did her grin, when she saw his expression. His face was the color of chalk and his haunted eyes looked as if they'd been burned into his pale skin. His mouth was drawn into a tight, white-edged line and he radiated tension. Those burning eyes raked her face.
"Are you all right?" he asked in a low, harsh voice she didn't recognize. Before she could even open her mouth to answer, he gave her a quick shake. "Tell me you're all right."
"I'm fine. Wet and clumsy but completely fine."
His fingers tightened on her arms. "You went under the water."
She nodded. "I slipped." Because he seemed so undone, she offered him another smile. "I realize I must look a fright, but it's nothing a towel and a hairbrush can't correct."
Instead of smiling back, he snatched her against him. His arms banded around her like a vise, molding her to him. The hard, fast beats of his heart knocked against her, and with a groan he buried his face in the curve of her neck. At first she thought he was merely overreacting to a simple accident, thinking, as men tended to, that women were composed of fragile glass and would easily break-or in this case, dissolve. But after about ten seconds she realized he was shaking.
"Daniel?" She squirmed in his tight hold and he finally lifted his head. His ravaged expression stunned her. And worried her. Never had she seen such a desolate look in anyone's eyes. And although he was staring at her, it almost seemed that he didn't see her.
She framed his colorless face between her wet hands. "Clearly I scared you. I'm so sorry. But there's no reason to be concerned. I'm fine, Daniel. Absolutely fine." She brushed her thumbs over his cheekbones. "Although it wasn't necessary, I appreciate you dashing into the water to save me."
The dazed expression in his eyes faded a bit, but she was still worried. The man looked as if he'd seen a ghost. Taking his hand, she said, "Let's get out of the water."
He jerked his head in a barely perceptible nod, and with his hand tightly gripping hers, they made their way to the shore. By the time they emerged from the water, he was shivering badly, increasing Carolyn's concern since the day was warm with bright sunshine and the water wasn't cold. She walked to the willow, snatched up the blanket, then led him into the sun.
"Let's sit," she said softly.
He sat down hard on the grass, as if his legs had given out. She wrapped the blanket around his shoulders then knelt in front of him and clasped his hands. His fingers were icy cold, his skin still deathly pale. "Daniel," she said softly. "What's wrong?"
He didn't answer for so long she thought he meant to ignore her. He simply stared out at the water, looking so shaken her heart ached for him. She gently rubbed his chilled hands between hers. And waited.
Finally a bit of color returned to his cheeks and he cleared his throat. "I don't like the water," he said in a voice that sounded as if he hadn't used it in several years.
"So I've gathered. I'm sorry I suggested we eat here. If I'd known your aversion, I never would have-"
"It's not your fault. No one knows. I've never told anyone."
She waited for him to continue, but another long silence ensued. It was obvious he was struggling with something, something that profoundly pained him. Finally she lifted his hands and pressed her lips to his cold fingers. "You don't have to tell me, Daniel."
He turned and looked at her, and her throat swelled at the bleakness in his eyes. His normally perfectly put-together exterior had cracked, breaking the shiny facade to reveal a man who deeply grieved something.
"She died. In the water." The whispered words seemed ripped from his depths. He drew a shuddering breath. "I tried to save her. But it was too late. By the time I dragged her out, she was dead."
Carolyn's breath caught and a flood of sympathy washed over her. "Oh, Daniel. How awful. I'm so very sorry."
His gaze searched hers, as if looking for understanding, then words just poured out of him in a dry rasp. "I'd gone to the lake at Surbrooke Manor. I laid down in my favorite sunny spot and fell asleep. When I woke up, I saw her. In water up to her waist. I called to her, but she kept wading out deeper. Deeper. I couldn't understand why she didn't answer me. I screamed. Louder. Begging her to stop, to look at me.
"Finally she turned. And I saw it in her eyes. I knew what she planned to do. I don't know how I knew, but I knew. I ran into the water, yelling, pleading. I told her I loved her. That I needed her. More than anyone else in the world. But it didn't matter. She turned from me and kept walking. The lake there drops off sharply in the middle. I saw her go under. But I was a good swimmer. Thought I could save her. But I failed. The stones-" His voice broke and he cleared his throat. "She'd weighted down her skirt with stones. I eventually found her. Pulled her up. But it was too late."
Dear God. He'd witnessed a woman he loved kill herself. Had tried to save her, but couldn't. And clearly blamed himself.
Something wet plopped onto her hands, which still tightly held his, and she realized it was a tear. From her. They dripped from her eyes and silently coursed down her cheeks. "Daniel… I'm so sorry."
His eyes bored into hers. "After our meal today I fell asleep, and when I awoke, you were gone. I saw you in the water, walking in deeper, and then going under…" A tremor ran through him. "It was like reliving my worst nightmare."
Guilt and self-reproach stabbed her and she squeezed his hands tighter. "I'm so sorry I frightened you. Like you, I dozed off. When I awoke, I felt hot and uncomfortable and the water seemed so inviting. You were sleeping so soundly, I didn't want to wake you. I planned to just take a quick dip to refresh myself." She'd also planned to entice him to join her if he woke up, not realizing that there was no chance of that.
She bent her head and rested her cheek against their joined hands. "Even though I'm well acquainted with grief, I don't know what to say to you except to express my sorrow that you suffered such a heartbreaking loss. Was your loss… recent?"
Something flicked in his eyes then he shook his head. "No. I was eight. Carolyn, the woman was my mother."
For several long seconds Carolyn could only stare in stunned disbelief. She'd assumed he'd been an adult. Had lost a woman he was in love with. Which was horrible. But for a young boy to witness his own mother's suicide…
"Dear God, Daniel." Now she understood those shadows that clouded his eyes. The pain that lurked in their dark blue depths.
"She'd had another child before me," he said, his voice raw, distant. "A boy. He was stillborn. It sent her into a deep melancholy from which she never fully emerged. I came along about a year later, and although I think she tried to take an interest in me, she simply… couldn't."
"What of your father?"
"He thought I would cheer her spirits, but when I failed to do so, he wanted nothing to do with me. He eventually remarried and had two more sons with his new wife. Sophie never cared for me-if not for me, her eldest son would be the heir. Nor do my half brothers hold me in any esteem, mostly for the same reason. We rarely see each other. They only contact me when they need something, most often money."
His gaze shifted back to the water. "Until his dying day my father blamed me for my mother's death."
Pity for Daniel, for all he'd suffered, and anger at his father's thoughtless cruelty, collided in Carolyn. Certainly it wasn't necessary for his father to blame Daniel for his mother's death-clearly Daniel blamed himself more than anyone else ever could.
She touched his chin and waited until he'd turned back to her. "Do you recall I told you the other day that we cannot control other people's actions-only our own?" After he gave a tight nod, she continued, "Your mother's death was not your fault, Daniel. The sadness that drove her to take her own life had nothing to do with you."
Deep regret and naked desolation clouded his beautiful eyes. "I couldn't stop her sadness."
"But you didn't cause it." She brushed a stray dark lock from his forehead. "This… this is difficult for me to say, as it's something I've never told anyone. Not even Sarah, from whom I have no secrets." She drew a slow, bracing breath, then said softly, "For months after Edward died, I thought of taking my own life. I would sit for hours, staring at his portrait, feeling so alone and hopeless, unable to see a way to go on without him. Not wanting to go on without him."
The memory of those hideous, dark days swept through her and she shuddered. "But something inside me wouldn't, couldn't, allow me to end my life. I don't know what that something was. Perhaps an inner strength I'm unaware of. To this day I don't understand how or why I had it… My point is, my decision had only to do with me, not anyone else. If I'd been determined to end my life, no one-not even my beloved sister-could have talked me out of doing so or prevented it. Anymore than you could have prevented your mother from doing so."
A long silence swelled between them. Then he finally said, "I wish my mother had possessed that inner strength you spoke about."
"So do I. But it's not your fault that she did not."
He slipped one hand from hers, reached out and softly traced his fingertips over her face, as if trying to memorize her features. "I'm very glad you had it."
"So am I, although I wasn't at the time." She kissed his fingertips as they passed over her lips. "Thank you for confiding in me."
"Thank you for listening. And confiding in me." He cupped her cheek in his palm. "I hadn't intended to tell you, but having done so, I feel… better. Relieved. As if a great weight has been lifted."
"Yes. I don't often speak from the heart." One corner of his mouth lifted in a humorless half smile. "Some would say that's because I don't have one."
"And they would be wrong, Daniel." She laid one hand against his chest, her palm absorbing the steady thud there. "You have a kind, generous heart. Don't ever think otherwise."
Yes. And he was a kind, generous, honorable man who hid an enormous amount of pain behind the facade of a charming rogue. She'd known him for years, yet hadn't really known him-the real him. Until now. Until he'd shown her his heart.
A wave of warm tenderness inundated her, overflowing her own heart with a sensation that made her go utterly still. Because she recognized it. Very well. Because she'd felt it. Once before. With Edward. It was-
Love.
Dear God, she loved Daniel.
For several seconds she couldn't breathe. Couldn't take it in. She tried to deny it, but no, there was no mistake. She loved him.
But how had this happened? She barely knew him.
You've known him for years.
But not well.
You've gotten to know him very well recently.
But not enough to love him.
You must recall that it only takes the heart a single beat to know.
Yes, she recalled. And therefore knew there was no mistaking her feelings.
She realized they must have been building over the last few months, ever since she'd seen him at Matthew's house party. It was undeniable. Even though she never thought she'd fall in love again, she loved him.
A man who'd made it perfectly clear he didn't want her heart and who had no intention of giving his.
And even though she never thought she'd contemplate another marriage, she suddenly realized that the thought of marrying the man she loved filled her with a contentment she hadn't believed she would experience again.
Daniel hadn't made any attempt to hide his aversion to marriage. Given his wealth and holdings, the only reason he would need to marry was to provide an heir, something he could do decades from now. And given her lack of success in conceiving, even if he changed his mind and decided to marry now, she couldn't provide him with that heir. He had not one but two brothers who could inherit the earldom, but she knew every man wanted a son to be his heir.
Confessions at Midnight Page 23
