The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection Volume 2(194)

"I can't take all the credit, love. Francis Baines' father actually helped us get away. And then Francis killed Samuel before he could kill her."



Elizabeth looked up at her husband, a new light of understanding dawning in her eyes. "So you remembered all those past sufferings, and gave Parks the order to shoot your wife rather than allow her to be tortured and raped until she either named names or died horribly."



He nodded. "I did, may the gods forgive me. Parky's gun misfired. I had a clear shot. I took it. He blames himself for what happened that day, but his instincts were right. He knew what he had to do. He hesitated because he was my friend, but I gave him the order.



"When the gun misfired, I knew I had one last chance to avert disaster for us all, and I took it. I didn't even hesitate. I wish in a way that I had. But it was my choice. And the thing is, I would make the decision all over again. What does that say about how much I loved my wife?" he asked in a ragged whisper.



She took both of his hands in her own and kissed them. "It says that you love your country and your friends more. And that yes, you did love her too, because you knew what they would do to her. After all she suffered, even if she had survived, well, she would have been even more insane that she already was, don't you think?"



He nodded, sagging against her in relief as she voiced what he had been thinking all along, but had rejected as a mere way to whitewash his guilt.



"So tell him, Will. Tell him the truth."



"I will. But not about—" He stopped himself.



"I heard that too. The cave. Our cave. Now I know why you were so insistent that I should keep it a secret."



"Do you hate me?" he asked quietly.



She cupped his cheek for a loving kiss. "No, never. I can't blame you for the way you feel, any more than I can blame the Teagues for despising the Lynches. Bigotry and idealism are not things that can be wiped out overnight. And I know you well enough to be certain that you're acting on the best principles, not selling your country for thirty pieces of silver."



He rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head. "The honest truth of the matter is that I don't want to get Parks killed."



She shifted to face him now, her gaze intent. "What is it you think you see, darling?"



He closed his eyes. After a time he said, "I can see us standing side by side. Me shooting him, I think. A musket ball ripping through him."



"But you would never—"



He took her hand and squeezed her fingers hard. "I haven't been sure of anything since I came back to Ireland except about falling in love with you, and this vision. Please believe me."



"I do," she said, soothing his brow with her other hand. "But I also agree with Vevina. You can't be sure. Besides, shot doesn't mean dead. Look at your shoulder."



"You cured most of that. Every time you touched me there was a searing pain, then bliss."



"Was that what happened when I fainted the night of the wine tasting? Or the day on the beach at the picnic?"



He shrugged slightly. "I'm not sure. I think so."



She laughed shakily, and cradled his head against her shoulder. "I was so scared. I thought that perhaps you had, er, after all, and I might be pregnant." She blushed.



"No, my innocent darling, I never did." He smiled at her and stroked her cheek lovingly. "A failing on my part that I'm going to rectify as soon as possible. As soon as the doctor tells me you're well, and I see you back to your old self again."



"That's going to be a while yet. My hair is still so short."



"It rather suits you. But no, I don't think I can wait quite that long, dearest."



She kissed him until he picked her up from the window seat and brought her over to the bed. Amid the tumbled covers he trembled and writhed under her, and at last had to get up from the bed and unfasten his constricting trousers.



"No, not yet—" he gasped as she reached for him.



"Please?"



"Soon. It can't be now. I want our night to be special."



"Well, there is my birthday coming up," she said with a sultry look that would have made a lesser man yield at once.



"And the New Year," he said, his eyes taking on a bright golden sheen for a moment.



"Yes."



He nodded. "Yes."



He rose now, and adjusted the sheets and quilts in the bed around her. "Rest now, love. We have much to do before then."



"We do. Go on, now. You've spent enough time looking after me. Go take care of your business, and I'll see you soon."