Whirlwind Wedding (37 page)

He clasped his hands in front of him on the table. "We never intended to fall in love, but we did. After two weeks, I was healed enough to rejoin my regiment, but I couldn't leave her. She refused to marry me, fearing the danger I'd be placed in by having a French wife, but I was stubborn. We traveled to a village several hours away and were secretly married.

"After that, I settled her in another village, under a different name. I wanted her away from Gaspard, whose vicious hatred of the British had turned to madness after Mien's death. The need to keep her safe became even more crucial once I learned she was with child."

His gaze drifted briefly to where his wife and daughter slept peacefully.

"Gaspard found the church where we'd been married and he came after me. He was going to kill me, then find Claudine and kill her. I managed to convince him I was sympathetic to the French—after all, I had a French wife—how loyal to the English could I be? To prove my loyalty, I promised to provide him and his men with weapons."

"Which is what you were doing that night on the docks," Austin said.

"Only the weapons were useless."

"Yes, except for the top several in each crate in case he tested them, which he did." He dragged his hands down his face. "When I saw you there, I panicked. I couldn't explain things to you, and I couldn't let Gaspard see you. Both of our lives were at stake."

"I want you to know how much I regret that night, William. Branding you a traitor, disavowing you as my brother—"

"You had no way of knowing, Austin."

"I should have trusted in you, known that you would never commit treason."

"You believed what I wanted you to believe. I could have confessed what was going on when we spoke, but I couldn't risk that someone might overhear, or question you. I would have said anything—
anything
—to protect Claudine and Josette, even if it meant pretending to my own brother that I was a traitor."

Austin looked over at Elizabeth. Yes, he could understand that depth of love.

"I'm sorry that I've had to allow you, Mother, Robert, and Caroline to mourn me this past year," William said in a quiet voice, "but until I took care of Gaspard I couldn't risk returning to the family. By killing him, you've set me free."

A shudder passed through Austin. "That bastard almost killed my wife. I would kill him again if I could."

"She is very brave, your wife. Have you been married long?"

"No. But she's changed my life." He looked at William and understanding flowed between them. "You understand."

"Perfectly. Claudine changed mine."

Silence fell for several seconds, then Austin said "The first night I met Elizabeth, she told me you were alive. I didn't believe her."

William frowned. "How could she possibly have known I was alive?"

Austin gazed at the cot by the fire, at the woman who held his heart and soul in her hands. He would not dishonor her and what she'd done for him and his family by hiding the gift of her visions . . . for that's exactly what they were. A gift. Returning his attention to William, he explained just how extraordinary his wife really was.

When he finished, William simply stared at him. "That's incredible."

Once again his gaze drifted to Elizabeth. "Yes, William. That's exactly what she is. Incredible."

And the moment she awoke, he would begin convincing her she was just that. And that she belonged with him.

Elizabeth came awake slowly, gradually becoming aware of her surroundings. A dull, relentless ache throbbed in her shoulder, but it was a vast improvement over the inferno that she recalled burning there earlier.

She breathed deeply and the savory aroma of something delicious cooking filled her nostrils. Her stomach instantly tightened with hunger.

She lifted her eyelids. Gentle shafts of sunlight lit the room, arcing over the beamed ceiling. Birdcalls twittered faintly in the distance.

"Elizabeth."

She slowly turned her head toward his voice, wincing at the pull on her shoulder. He sat next to where she lay, his elbows resting on his spread knees, his hands clasped between them.

Stubble shadowed his jaw, lending him the look of a dark angel. His hair was pushed haphazardly back from his forehead as if he'd raked his fingers through it a dozen times. He looked rumpled and tired yet incredibly strong and solid.

And so very worried. Hoping to erase the concern in his eyes, she forced a tiny smile to her lips. "Austin."

A breath whooshed from his lungs and he closed his eyes for a brief second. Reaching out a visibly shaking hand he gently touched her cheek.

"How do you feel?"

She thought for a moment. "My shoulder hurts. I'm very thirsty, and whatever that delicious smell is has my stomach growling."

His tense features relaxed. "I'll get you something to eat and drink, then give you some laudanum for the pain." He stood and her gaze followed him around the room, watching him pour water from a metal pitcher into a thick cup.

Returning to her side, he very gently helped her sit partially up, stuffing several pillows behind her. Dear God it felt so good to have his hands on her, even if the touch was given solely for caregiving purposes.

Once she was settled he held the cup to her lips. She drained it three times before the dryness in her throat finally abated.

"More?" he asked.

"No, thank you."

"Would you like some broth? Claudine made it early this morning."

Her stomach rumbled but she said "Later. First I need to speak with you."

So many things to tell you . . . so much to hope for.

"Of course."

He sat in the straight-backed wooden chair and she wondered if he'd spent the entire night sitting on its hard surface. She suspected he had for it looked as if he hadn't slept at all.

"How is the child?" she asked anxiously.

"She's fine, Elizabeth. Her name is Josette. She and Claudine are outside.

William is with them."

"William? Then he's—"

"Here. Alive. And well."

"How—"

"I know you have questions, and I shall tell you everything you don't already know, but first there is something I must say to you."

Reaching out, he took her hand pressing her palm between both of his.

His expression was so grave, so intense, her insides cramped with apprehension.

"I've come to a decision, Elizabeth."

"Decision?"

He gazed into her eyes, then shook his head. "Bloody hell, I've been waiting so long for you to wake up, so I could talk to you, and now that the moment is here, I don't know the words."

Her throat constricted. As she well knew, there was no easy way to tell someone that you didn't want to remain married to them.

Releasing her hands, he leaned down. When he straightened, he held a dented bucket in his hands. "I brought you something," he said quietly.

Reaching into the bucket, he pulled out a large, ripe strawberry.

Confused, she watched him hold the berry by its green stem. "Do you remember our journey to London, after our wedding?" he asked, his gaze probing hers. She nodded mutely.

"You told me a story about the origin of strawberries, about a couple who was wonderfully happy, but then they argued. The wife walked away from her husband, not stopping until she saw the red ripe strawberries. When she ate them, her desire for him returned and she came back to him." He held the berry to her lips. "I want you to come back to me."

Her heart slammed against her ribs. Dazed she bit the fruit, its sweetness surrounding her tongue. When she finished the strawberry, he placed the bucket on the floor.

Taking her hand he pressed a heated fervent kiss into her palm. "God Elizabeth, when I thought you might die, everything inside me died right along with you. I realized at that moment that nothing,
nothing
else mattered but keeping you with me.

"I cannot let you go," he said his warm breath beating against her fingertips. "I cannot allow you to return to America. If you leave, I'll simply follow you there. I won't annul our marriage. It doesn't matter if we don't have children. If you want, we'll adopt children. Dozens of them if that's what you want, but you will not bear another man's child. And I will not seek comfort in another woman's arms. If you do not want to share a bed with me, I shall accept your decision. The only thing that matters is that you stay with me. Do you understand?"

She couldn't have pushed a word past her bone-dry lips if her life depended upon it. She nodded.

"Good. Because there will be no further talk of ending our marriage." His gaze blazed into hers, heated intense, and deadly serious. "I love you," he whispered. "Totally. And I'll take you on any terms. My heart is yours.

Now and always."

She stared at him, rendered speechless by his words. He loved her. In spite of everything, he still wanted her as his wife. Dear God what he was willing to give up . . . a real marriage, children. For her. Because he loved her. Hot tears flooded her eyes. How well she understood that depth of love, that willingness to give up everything for the person who held your heart in their hands.

It was exactly the way she felt about him.

"Austin," she said, her voice shaking. "You need to know, I never would have had a child with another man. Please, believe me. I desperately didn't want to end our marriage, but I couldn't ask you to accept me when I could no longer be a wife to you."

He stilled. "You lied to me?"

Trepidation skittered down her spine at his tone, but she plunged on.

"Yes. I lied. I wanted you to be free to have the sort of marriage you deserved. With a woman who would give you children. Annulling our marriage, having a child with someone else, claiming designs on your title —they were all fabrications. But please understand, I would have said anything—
anything
—to convince you."

The muscles in his throat worked convulsively. "Those are almost the identical words William used last night about protecting Claudine." He drew a deep breath. "You're saying you said those things to force me to go on with my life. Without you."

"Yes."

"You lied to me."

She nodded. "It's the only time I ever have, and I swear on my soul, I never will again."

He appeared almost dazed for several seconds, then a slow smile spread over his face, a devastating smile that stopped her breath.

"You
lied
to me," he said again.

"You seem . . .
happy?"

"My darling, under the circumstances, I'm ecstatic."

Relief, so intense it left her weak, flooded her. "There's something else I must tell you."

Her expression clearly mirrored her serious tone because the humor faded from his eyes. "I'm listening," he said.

"When I thought I was going to die, never see or touch you again, I felt such profound regrets. About you. And our child." Reaching up, she laid her palm against his stubbled jaw. "No more regrets," she whispered. "I want us to have a real marriage. I want to have our baby, regardless of what manner of hardships we will have to face together."

His eyes searched her face. "Elizabeth, are you certain?"

She nodded and swallowed the hard knot gripping her throat. "Life is too short, too precious. There's a beautiful child in our future, a child I don't want to deny life to— even if that life is destined to be short. I can be strong because I love you, because you love me." Drawing a deep breath, she studied his grave expression. "Do you want the same, Austin? Do you want our child? Knowing we'll lose her? Knowing the pain we'll have to face?"

He grasped her hand and squeezed it hard. "I always wanted her, even knowing we could lose her. And I swear on my soul that I will do everything in my power to see that we don't."

"But if we do?"

"Then I'll thank God for the time I had her, for the precious days she was ours to love."

Dear God she was terrified to tell him the full extent of her vision, of his despair and guilt and self-blame, but she had to know. "Austin, what if something one of us does causes her death?"

He rubbed his thumbs over the backs of her hands, his eyes riveted to hers. "We would handle it. Together. Always." Leaning forward he brushed his mouth across hers in a tender, bittersweet kiss. "Our love is strong enough to survive anything."

His quiet vow wrenched her heart and she blinked back the hot tears pooling in her eyes. Clutching his words to her heart, she prayed he wouldn't regret saying them after she told him the rest of her vision. And she had to tell him. It was only fair that she make him understand the depth of misery she knew awaited him.

"Austin, I saw you grieving. I felt your despair, your hopelessness and guilt. I heard you say, 'Please, God, don't tell me I've killed her by bringing her here' and 'I cannot live without her.'"

He stared at her with a puzzled frown. "But I said those very words.

Yesterday. When I thought you were dying."

Before she could reply, voices sounded outside the door. Austin rose.

"William, Claudine, and Josette have returned," he said. "They are anxious to meet you."

He crossed the room and opened the door. The woman whom Elizabeth had last seen bound to a chair walked in, her arm linked with a man who was undeniably Austin's brother. Elizabeth smiled. Before she could say hello, however, the child appeared in the doorway.

Elizabeth looked at the little girl with ebony hair and gray eyes.

And her entire world shifted on its axis.

Only two days had passed since Austin had departed for France, and already Robert knew that he didn't have a prayer of keeping up with his brother's correspondence. He sat behind Austin's massive mahogany desk and groaned at the ever-growing mountain of letters piled in the center.