A Risk Worth Taking (27 page)

The chapel was small, not nearly as big as she anticipated it would be. But it was beautiful inside. The moment she passed through the doors, she felt as if a strange force welcomed her—as if God’s voice whispered in her ear to assure her she had nothing to fear.

She reverently walked toward the altar but stopped midway down the aisle. The sun streamed through the stained-glass windows on both sides of the chapel. A glow of muted shades encompassed them. Her breath caught and all she could manage was a small, solemn sigh.

She turned and her gaze took in the surreal expression on Griff’s face.

“This is where we should have married,” he said. “It’s where Blackmoors have said their vows for generations.”

“Did
you and Julia say your vows here?”

“Yes.”

Anne stepped closer to the front of the chapel. “It is a special place. I feel as if the angels are here with us. As if they are hovering close to guard and protect us.” She turned her head to look at him. “Is that how it is for you?”

“Yes. I never came here much until after I lost Julia and Andrew. Then, every time I walked through the doors, I experienced a peace I needed badly. I come here often, and it’s always the same.”

He touched her elbow and they walked the rest of the way down the short aisle. When they reached the front, he turned her in his arms and clasped her hands in his. “Do you know what I would have liked to have said to you the day we married?”

She shook her head. There was a serious expression on his face.

“I would have told you that I realize you would not have willingly chosen me for your husband. Now I understand why. I understand your fears. But I promise I will not be like your father. I will never choose a drink over doing what is best for you. Look how long I’ve gone already.”

“And you don’t want to have another drink?” she asked.

The air caught in his throat. “Only a dozen times a day or more.” His gaze remained locked with hers. “But I have not let myself give in to the temptation. And I will not.”

She tried to smile, though she wasn’t sure she was successful.

“I wish things could be different,” he whispered, brushing the backs of his fingers down her cheek.

“So
do I. Only not in the same sense as you want them to be different.”

“How is that?”

“I would wish for the strength to be content with only the blessings of each day.”

“Perhaps that’s because you’ve never received the world’s blessings and had to give them back.”

Anne wanted to cry out that she knew she wasn’t Julia—that she could never be Julia. No matter how much he wished it.

“If there’s anything you want,” he said, his tone containing a softness she was not used to, “you have only to ask. If it’s within my power, I’ll give it to you.” He took a deep breath. “That is all I have to offer.”

The warmth Anne saw in his eyes the moment before vanished. In its place was the hard, unyielding resolve she’d lived with since she’d spoken her vows.

“Is it enough?” he asked.

She looked at him and blinked twice to stop the wetness that blurred her vision. “I do not want for much, sir. Only—” She stopped.

“Only what?”

Only to be your wife.

Only to be loved.

How could she tell him? She could not say the words. It was like wishing for the moon.

“Nothing, sir. I only want what you are willing to give. I will give you what I can, along with my hand to hold when you lose your way, as I promised.”

He touched his fingers to her cheek, then his gaze moved to her mouth. A moan of anguish came from deep
inside him and he lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers.

His kiss was soft and reverent, filled with only a sampling of the emotions they both struggled to keep at bay whenever they were near each other. He kissed her again.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him. Yes, this is what she wanted there to be between them. This is what she needed to know was still there.

When their kiss ended, she remained close to him.

Griff brushed his fingers down her cheek as if he needed a reminder of what had transpired between them. Then he stepped away from her. His separation indicated that Julia still possessed a large part of his heart. He couldn’t allow himself to care for Anne like he’d cared for Julia. The love he still felt for his dead wife would not let him.

He looked at her as if he’d read her mind, then walked toward a side door that led from the chapel.

Bright sunlight blinded her when he opened the door, then the chapel darkened again when he closed the door behind him.

She stood at the front of the chapel with her hands fisted at her sides. A quiet anger built within her. She was his wife now, the woman he should want at his side. How could he kiss her with such passion one minute and run away from her the next? It was as if a part of him refused to give himself over to her—as if a likeness of his dead wife flashed before him, and he regretted that he’d besmirched her memory.

Anne followed him out the door and to the place where he stood. He anchored his hands against the wrought-iron fence as if he needed its support to help him carry the heavy load placed on his shoulders. The fence surrounded
a small, private graveyard. She knew in an instant who was buried here.

She looked down. Her gaze rested on two fairly new stones that marked two well-tended graves.

“They’re not really here, you know.” His voice was filled with pain. “Their bodies were never recovered.”

She wanted to reach out to him, to hold his hand and comfort him, but she could not.

“I could lie and tell you I never loved her. That we had married young and afterward discovered we were not suited to each other, but that wouldn’t be true.”

Anne thought she would be ill. Her stomach clenched and rolled. It took every ounce of her self-control to keep from running away from him and taking a carriage back to London.

“I loved her very much, and she loved me. Together we had a son who was the joy of our lives. When I lost them, I thought I would die.” He lowered his head between his outstretched arms. “It’s my fault they are dead.”

He took a deep breath that expanded his shoulders and chest. “Julia was terrified of sailing. I had some business to attend to in France and wanted her to go with me. She didn’t want to go, but I forced her. I promised her nothing would happen to her and Andrew. That I would take care of them. Then the storm came up.

“The wind tossed our ship around like a toy boat. We crashed into some rocks off the coast of France and began taking on water. The captain ordered all the passengers to board the longboats.

“Julia’s fear was irrational. She didn’t want to leave the cabin, but I made her. I took her and Andrew atop to wait
to board one of the boats, then went below to help the other passengers. When I returned, Julia was gone. She’d taken Andrew back to our cabin.”

Griff swiped his hand down his face. “I shouldn’t have left them. I knew she was too frightened to wait there without me.”

“So you blame yourself because they died?” For the first time she understood the guilt he carried with him.

“Who else is there to blame?”

“No one, as long as you have a need to blame someone.”

He shot her a confused look.

“We often assign blame when something tragic happens that we can’t understand. I tried to blame you when Freddie was shot.”

“But I was responsible—”

“No. You were there, nothing more. Perhaps the bullet that killed him was intended for you. Perhaps it wasn’t. Maybe we will never know. But what good would have been served if you had died, too? Would Rebecca and I have been better off if you had died?”

The muscles across his shoulders bunched and she heard his shaky sigh.

“That’s what makes death so unbearable to some,” she continued. “Sometimes there is just no one to blame. I think you’d like to blame God, but you aren’t brave enough, so you blame yourself.”

Anne turned away from his angry expression and looked down. The wrought-iron fence was lined with wildflowers of every color. She reached down and picked two bunches, then entered the gate and laid flowers on each grave.

“There
is no one there,” Griff repeated, his voice hoarse and riddled with emotion.

“To me they are there. This is their final resting place. You are the one who cannot let them go. You’re the one who can’t accept their deaths and go on with your life.”

“I can’t forget them,” he whispered, the agony and hurt inside him plain to hear.

“I would never ask you to forget them. I only ask that you make room in your life for me, too.”

Anne ran her fingers across Griff’s child’s headstone, and walked back out through the gate. She did not wait for him but headed down the path that would take her back to the manor. She refused to live the rest of her life in the shadow of a woman she had never met, a woman she could never replace.

She swiped the back of her hand across the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. She refused to give in to the hurt she felt.

Her options were so few. He’d told her she only had to ask, and if it was within his power, he would give it to her. He would live to regret his words. She would not let him go until she had exactly what she wanted.

If he could never love her, she would have the next best thing.

Griff tossed and turned as sleep eluded him again. He knew tonight would be another sleepless night. He’d hurt her again today. For as much as he’d tried to make her first day tolerable, it had turned out to be a day riddled with
painful truths and unpleasant memories. Now she knew. Knew about Julia. Knew he hadn’t protected Julia after he’d promised. Now Anne knew his promise to protect her was just as hollow.

He lay on his back and crossed his arms beneath his head. He shouldn’t have kissed her.

It was almost more than he could do not to go to her. It nearly took more willpower than he possessed not to walk through that door and into her room and take her. Bloody hell, but he wanted her. Wanted her with a desperation he did not think he would ever feel again. Most of all, he wanted her to know that she didn’t have to compete with Julia. Julia was his past. Anne was his future.

He wanted to make a life with her, have a family with her. Watch the children they created grow. He wanted to laugh with her and talk with her and hold her through the night. He wanted to share his every thought with her and have her share her thoughts with him. And then…

Griff remembered the sabotaged carriage and the movement in the trees. He could not risk it. The attempts on his life proved it could all be taken away from him in the blink of an eye.

He broke out in a cold sweat. He couldn’t stand to lose her, too. He couldn’t survive if he had to give up another child.

Griff threw back the covers and jumped from his bed. The moment his feet hit the floor, his bedroom door opened. He turned to face her.

Anne stood in the doorway, holding a flickering candle in her hand. Her face looked pale in the candlelight. “Anne? What’s wrong?”

She stepped into the room and closed the door behind her.

“Anne? What is it? Are you all right?”

She looked at him with a determination he’d never seen before. She opened her mouth to speak, but the sight of his naked body obviously startled her. Her gaze moved over him.

Griff muttered an oath and reached for his robe to cover himself. He pulled it closed in the front, but not before he caught her gaze riveted just below his waist. For a moment he thought she was going to run from the room, but she held her ground and took her first step closer.

He tied the belt that held his robe secure and stepped close to her. When he was close enough, he took the flickering candle from her trembling hand and set it on the table beside the bed. “What’s wrong? Has something happened?”

She swallowed hard. “Did you mean it when you said if there was anything I wanted, and if it was within your power, I only had to ask and you would give it to me?”

His heart fell to the pit of his stomach. A feeling of dread consumed him. “Yes.”

“Then I have something I want. Something you have within your power to give me.”

He turned and walked to the window. A cold chill washed over him. He was going to lose her. He’d been afraid that when she found out about Julia she would leave him. What woman wanted to stay with a husband who couldn’t protect his family? What woman wanted to stay with a man someone was trying to kill? What woman wanted to stay with a man she was not certain could survive
another day without a drink? Why the hell would she want to risk spending her life with him? He wasn’t worth it.

After a long while, he turned back to her. “Very well. What would you like from me?”

She swallowed again. At least telling him she intended to leave him was not easy for her.

“What is it, Anne? What would you like me to give you? An annulment?”

Her eyes opened wide as if she couldn’t believe he had read her thoughts.

“Is that what
you
want?” she asked on a hoarse whisper. “Do you want our marriage to be annulled?”