“And heaven?” Madeline prompted, her voice a mere squeak as she fought the nerves that threatened to undo her.
“The camaraderie,” he whispered as though revealing a well-kept secret. “The honest respect, blind trust and unfailing devotion. Even in moments of pain, fear and death, you are not alone. There are people who stand with you, no matter the consequences. There is truth in these moments like in no others. You finally see what is important, understand your place in life and realise that you matter.”
Drawing in a shaky breath, Madeline swallowed as she felt a lone tear slowly rolling down her cheek. Ashamed, she lifted her hand to brush it away, but her husband stopped her.
Gently, his hand closed over hers, and his gaze traced the tiny drop as it made its way past the corner of her mouth and down to her chin. He met her gaze then, the depth in his eyes stealing the breath from her lungs, before he lifted his hand, and his thumb and index finger gently took hold of her chin.
Raising her head, he stepped closer, his gaze now burning into hers with an intensity that warmed her chilled toes. “You matter,” he whispered, responding to her silent doubts. “It is not important whether you succeed or not. All that matters is that you try.” He nodded his head for emphasis, his fingers tightening on her chin, “That you keep trying. Don’t give up. Don’t ever give up.”
Shuddering under his gaze, Madeline found herself shaken to her core. And yet, it was neither melancholy nor despair that swelled in her chest but hope instead.
Suddenly, Madeline felt empowered as though he had just handed her the tools to change her fate…with only a few simple words. Did he truly mean them? Did he truly believe that she…?
No, he would not have lied to her. He was an honourable man in the truest sense.
The words he spoke had been the truth. If nothing else, Madeline believed that.
Desperate to repay him for his kindness, to express her gratitude and show him how much his trust meant to her, Madeline opened her mouth, grasping for words…only to find them fail her. On impulse, she tugged on her arm, her hand still resting in his, and pulled herself against him, her mouth finding his, seeking to convey what she could not say.
For a moment, her husband seemed taken aback, and Madeline feared that he would reject her. However, before she could retreat in shame, he returned her kiss, his lips gently moving over hers as his hand slid up to cup her face.
There was such tenderness and care in his touch, in the way the tips of his fingers brushed over her skin, barely touching, and yet, so intimate, that Madeline felt tears gather in the corners of her eyes.
But she did not want to cry.
Not now.
Please not now.
She wanted to feel…alive…and free…and cherished…and cared for.
Did he care for her?
Did she care for him?
Unable to deny those delicate feelings of affection that had begun to blossom in her heart for the man she had never wanted to marry, Madeline allowed herself to believe that even if he did not care for her now…a day might come that he would.
And maybe that day was not too far off.
Maybe it was just around the corner.
Maybe all she needed to do was admit to her own feelings for him. But could she? Did she dare be so vulnerable?
His left arm tightened on her, pulling her closer, as his right hand slipped to the back of her neck. He opened his mouth to deepen the kiss, but then suddenly froze…and pulled back.
Staring up at him, Madeline searched his eyes, confused about the sudden distance she could sense growing ever wider between them. What had happened? Why had he broken their kiss?
“Why did you come?” he whispered, his breath warm on her skin as he continued to hold her, his voice gentle. Still, these four words felt like a bucket of cold water dumped over Madeline’s head.
Swallowing, she drew in a shaky breath. Did he not want her here? Did he want her to leave? Could he not see that she had nowhere else to go? “I…I…” Again, words failed her. After all, someone like him who had weathered the dangers of the world could never understand the misery of her own little life. Compared to his, it was nothing.
“Did you??” He swallowed, and she could see the muscles in his jaw tense. A touch of repressed anger and a sense of urgency came to his gaze as it searched her face for an answer he feared to receive.
What had changed? Madeline wondered, confused about the direction his thoughts had travelled. What was he asking of her?
Looking down at her, her husband seemed to suddenly realise how tightly she was still wrapped in his arms for he immediately stepped back as though burnt.
Madeline’s heart began to ache as his arms fell away and she saw the doubt and regret on his face. Averting her gaze, unable to look at him, she turned back to the workbench. Her gaze fell onto the knife, its tip tinged with her blood, and a soft smile touched her face. This was how it had started, the small, seemingly insignificant incident that had brought them closer.
Or had she only imagined it?
Remembering the task Bessy had given her, Madeline once more reached for the knife, her injured finger still wrapped in her husband’s handkerchief. With a sigh, she forced her gaze away and back onto the carrots. It would not serve her to cut herself again.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her husband watching her, his face tense as though he felt at odds about what to do. Moments ticked by before he stepped toward her, his hand brushing down her arm to get her attention.
Reluctantly, Madeline turned to look at him, afraid what she would find in those dark eyes of his. Although she did detect anger as well as doubt, she also thought to see a touch of fear. What was he afraid of?
Holding her gaze, he cleared his throat. “When last we spoke,” he began, shifting on his feet, clearly uncomfortable, “before you came to Huntington House, you stated your…intention of,” he swallowed, his teeth clenching as he sought to continue, “of…” Then he stepped back, shaking his head as though having changed his mind.
Madeline frowned. When last they had spoken? When? On their wedding night? When she had?
As realisation dawned, Madeline’s eyes widened in shock, and yet, a touch of guilt assailed her heart. Was he truly asking if she had been unfaithful to him? How could he?? Still, she had to admit that she had given him every reason to doubt her. Had she not kissed Lord Townsend with every intention of becoming his…
His what?
Mistress? That had been the word that had finally brought her to her senses. And yet, she had allowed him liberties that were only reserved for a husband. Would Derek send her away if he found out? Ought she to tell him?
As she watched him retreat, Madeline knew that only the truth?as painful and inconvenient as it might be?would be able to bridge the gap that had once again opened between them.
With every intention of revealing to him the full extent of what had happened between her and Lord Townsend, Madeline approached her husband. However, the moment she opened her mouth, a loud shout rang from the front of the house cutting her off.
A look full of regret in his eyes, her husband sighed, his teeth gritting together once more before he turned and headed out into the hall and toward the front entrance.
Doing her utmost to ignore that sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, Madeline hurried after him. As he rushed out the front door, he called to Sean, “What’s going on? Is it the mare?”
“No,” Sean replied, his pale face barely visible in the dimming glow of the day’s last light. “It seems we have some visitors.” Pointing down the road leading up toward Huntington House, he stepped up to his brother-in-law, an amused smirk on his face. “Shall I prepare the guest bedchambers, my lord?”