Adam touched his lips to Georgina’s sweat-dampened temple. The eerie pall of silence punctured by her harsh breathing served as a bleak reminder that if she didn’t awaken soon she most likely never would. He drew in a shuddery breath, willing her to hear him, needing her to come back to him.
“There are so many things I want to say to you, things I want to do and see with you. I want to dance with you in the moonlight until your cheeks are flush with color.” He caught a long, curled tendril and rubbed it between his fingers. “I want to sit with you in the still of the night until the sun comes up.” His throat worked. “And I want to have a family with you. I want to have feisty daughters with your heart and spirit and my… No. I don’t want them to have any part of me, Georgina. I want them to be just like their mother.”
Adam spoke until his throat was hoarse and still the words kept coming. “My beautiful, perfect Georgina. You’ve known so little happiness. If you come back to me, I will spend the rest of my days filling your life with joy.” He lowered his brow to hers, rubbing it back and forth. He would spend the remainder of his life endeavoring to deserve her. There were so many wrongs that could never be forgiven.
He directed his gaze to the ceiling. “Please let her live. If you let her live, I will be anything and everything you want me to be. Just let her live.”
There was no lightning from above. Adam curled into a ball at his wife’s side and sobbed. Great, big, gasping breaths tore from his chest.
“I don’t want to live without you.”
He wept until his lungs burned, and only when he couldn’t cry anymore, did he sleep.
*
Georgina struggled to open her eyes and when she did, promptly closed them against the sun streaming through the window.
When she’d been given her first horse some years ago, she’d taken a tumble off the beautiful creature. Her arms and torso had bore nasty greenish-blue bruises for the hard fall she’d taken. Her body felt much as it had that long ago day.
What happened?
She forced her eyes open once more and made a move to push herself up on her elbows. Her shoulder screamed in protest, and a wave of agony robbed her of breath. Georgina fell back against the pillow.
Father.
Jamie.
…Adam had walked out on her.
In the span of moments, she’d lost every single person in her life. She closed her eyes, revisiting the scenes from the warehouse. Jamie saved me. He killed Father. Her heart tightened painfully. She struggled to recall the events that had transpired after she’d placed herself between the bullet Jamie had intended for him. Only then did she become aware of the tall, muscular figure pressed against her side.
She froze. Her heart flipped over.
Her husband.
A bitter smile played about her lips as she remembered her father’s damning revelation. Adam wasn’t really her husband.
In sleep, the hard lines around his mouth had relaxed. A stray golden lock hung over his eye and she ached to brush it back. She wanted to remember him like this forever, for in this moment they might have been any couple in love, sleeping peacefully in their bed, wrapped in each other’s arms. She wanted this moment before she forced herself to accept the truth. Adam had never loved her.
Life had reminded Georgina what she’d deluded herself into forgetting…dreams did not exist.
Adam’s eyes flickered open and closed. Then popped open.
“Georgina!” he gasped. He lurched upright.
The sudden movement sent a lightning-quick pain up her arm.
He scrambled to his knees. “Forgive me. Are you—?”
She shook her head. “I’m all right.” Except she wasn’t. She didn’t understand why he occupied the spot beside her. She scanned the foreign surroundings and struggled to place her location. “Where am I?”
“The Duke of Aubrey has a townhouse on the outskirts of London.” Adam ran a solemn gaze over her face.
She struggled for some hint of affection but his face was set in a stoic mask. Silly ninny. Adam didn’t care for her. He’d made it abundantly clear on Lord Ashton’s terrace how little she meant to him, and in the warehouse…she’d never be able to forget how easily he’d walked out on her.
“You shouldn’t be here.” She squeezed the words out through dry lips. “We aren’t even married.” No, he’d made it perfectly clear that he didn’t want to be wed to her.
Adam’s face contorted. “I don’t care about that. I told you the day…” He faltered. “The day you were shot I would wed you again.”
She looked away as an internal battle waged inside her. The foolish part of her wanted to accept that which he offered and go on pretending she was the cherished wife of a man who’d nearly been killed by her father. Except…
She’d been foolish for too long. She would not allow him to wed her out of a misbegotten sense of guilt. “No.” Her one word response blared in the silence of the room. Nor could she wed a man who’d believed so ill of her. Even if she had given him earlier grounds to do so. There was too much they could not recover from.
A pained sound rumbled from Adam’s chest. “You don’t…” He seemed to be searching for words. “No,” he repeated back. “You said no,” he said more to himself. Adam sucked in an audible breath. “For days I considered what I might say to you. I would tell you how unworthy I am of you and your love.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I would beg your forgiveness. There is nothing to say. Nothing but, please forgive me.”
Adam would do anything for her—but out of guilt. He wore it etched in the tired lines of his rugged cheekbones and the sad twist of his lips.
She could not trap him—not when fate had freed him. Not when fate had freed them both.
No. There were only three words that he could give her. Three words Adam would never utter. Not to her. Not when there was beautiful Grace, who had the added advantage of not being the daughter of a traitor.
So she said nothing but, “I need to rest, Adam.”
Adam cleared his throat and stood. “Of course, of course.” He reached a hand to her and she turned on her side. “We will talk later,” he pledged quietly.
There was nothing left to say.
*
One week later, Georgina requested a meeting with the Duke of Aubrey.
She stared across the wide surface of the immaculate, mahogany desk at the powerful nobleman who’d controlled her fate these many years now. He sat, his gaze trained on a sheet in front of him as though either uncaring or disinterested in her presence. She gritted her teeth, tired of commanding gentleman.
Georgina cleared her throat.
The duke picked his head up. He stood and studied her from hooded lashes. “You should still be resting,” he chided.
Georgina gave him a tight smile. “I never took you for a nursemaid, Your Grace.”
He inclined his head. “Or a spy.”
She remembered the carriage ride the evening she’d fled Lord and Lady Ashton’s. Her smile dipped. “Or a spy.” Yes, gentlemen did not become spies. It was seedy and dark and not the endeavors pursued by powerful noblemen.
“Please sit.” He motioned to the smooth, brown leather sofa by the hearth.