Chapter 22 #2
“Twice I fell with child and lost them both.” She pressed her hands flat against her knees, smoothing the fabric with slow strokes.
“After the second, I went to an apothecary’s wife in the village.
She gave me herbs—pennyroyal and tansy—to keep from conceiving again.
Gabriel found them.” Her throat closed around the words, but she forced them through.
“He beat me for it. And then he forced himself on me until I was with child again.”
“I was pregnant, disowned, and married to a monster.” She stared at her own hands as though they belonged to someone else. “There was nowhere to go.”
“By the time I was eight months along, I learned that Gabriel had killed a man over card games. He was in hiding. I just knew I had to leave. Not for my own sake, but for the babies.” She paused, her gaze flickering to the candle on the bedside table.
“The midwife told me there were two. Twins. I hadn’t known until then. ”
Dominic drew a sharp breath, his chest rising and falling beneath his linen shirt.
“I had saved money, coins snatched from the housekeeping. There was some of my mother’s jewelry left“ She began to pick at a loose thread on her shawl. “I just wanted to leave him before he came back from his hiding.”
Her breath hitched, her throat seizing up.
“But luck was against me. Gabriel came home exactly the day I planned to leave.” She flinched, her shoulders hunching at the memory. “He found my bag. He found the money and the note with directions to the coaching inn.”
She wrapped her arms around herself, pulling her shawl tighter.
“He told me he would teach me what happened to wives who tried to leave.” She looked down at her feet. “I don’t remember exactly what happened next. It’s all fragments.” She leaned in close. “Him grabbing me. Falling. A candle on the dresser. And then fire.”
“The curtains caught first, then the bedding.” She flared her nostrils as if she could still smell the acrid smoke. “Gabriel was shouting, trying to put it out. And I just… I ran.”
“I didn’t look back.” A sob finally broke through, and she squeezed her eyes shut. “I just ran until I could no longer breathe. The house burned to the ground.” Her expression went vacant. “They found a body in the ruins, charred beyond recognition.”
“Gabriel?” Dominic pushed himself up on the pillows, his brow still furrowed with a barely leashed rage.
She nodded then pulled her knees to her chest, making herself small. “Yes. I saw it.” She forced the words out, her jaw trembling. “Saw what was left of him and the constable told me I was a widow.”
“I went to an old friend, Margaret, a vicar’s widow.” She stared into the dancing flames of the hearth. “But Gabriel’s debts followed me. Collectors arrived at her door within months, demanding payment for a dead man’s sins.”
“I couldn’t drag her down with me.” She pulled her shawl closer to her neck. “So I sold the last of my mother’s jewelry. I changed my name from Hyde to Ashford, and I vanished.”
“I gave birth in a charity hospital.” She placed her hand on her stomach. “I told them I was a widow, that my husband died in an accident.”
“Lily almost killed me coming into the world.” Her fingers curled against her belly like guarding a wound.
“The doctor said it was a miracle I survived. That another pregnancy would likely...” She stopped and took a jagged breath.
“That’s why I told you I might not be able to give you children. It’s not age, Dominic. It’s damage.”
“Four years I spent running from town to town.” A hollow, mirthless laugh escaped her. “Then I found this village. I bought the shop and built something that was mine.”
“I have been Nell Ashford for nine years.” She brought her hand to her forehead, shielding her eyes. “Some days I forget Eleanor Whitmore ever existed.”
“But she did exist.” She turned to face him, letting him see the fear, the shame, and the desperate hope in her eyes. “She was seventeen and foolish, and she eloped with a monster because she thought his charm was love.”
“That’s who I am, Dominic.” She forced herself to hold his gaze, her chin lifting despite the trembling of her lips. “A woman who was offered to men like livestock. A woman who left her husband to burn and felt nothing but relief. A woman who walked away from a corpse and never looked back.”
“That’s the truth. Every ugly piece of it.” She finished, her hands going still.
The clock on the mantel ticked once, then twice. She stopped breathing, waiting for the blow.
“Come here.” He held out his hand.
She didn’t move, her whole body rigid with terror. “Did you hear what I said?”
“Every word.” He held out his hand again, patient and steady, his fingers open in an invitation. “Come here.”
“I might have killed a man.” She pressed her back against the hard wood of the bedpost, her shoulders shaking with the force of the confession.
“You survived.” He kept his hand extended, his expression calm and certain. “Come here. Please.”
She crossed the distance slowly, like a creature approaching a cliff’s edge. He took her hand when she finally reached him, pulling her down to sit on the bed beside him.
“You think this changes how I feel?” His thumb traced slow, soothing circles on her palm.
“It should.” She stared at their joined hands, unable to meet his gaze.
“It doesn’t.” He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a lingering kiss to her knuckles. “You were seventeen. You were trapped. You did what you had to do to survive.”
“But I might have...” She broke off, the words dissolving into a jagged sob.
“You saved yourself.” He gripped her hand tighter. “That’s not murder. That’s survival.”
“The law wouldn’t see it that way.” She shook her head, trying to pull her hand back from his.
“The law doesn’t know what it’s like.” He caught her hand again, refusing to let her retreat. “To be trapped. To be beaten. To have no way out.”
“You cannot just...” She tried to stand, her look probing the shadows for an exit.
“I can.” He tugged her back down, pulling her into his space. “I can, and I am.”
“Why?” The word tore out of her, ragged and raw, as she pressed her free hand against her mouth. “Why do you not hate me?”
“Because you are the bravest woman I have ever known.” He cupped her face with his free hand, tilting her chin up to meet his eyes. “Because you built a life from nothing. Because you raised two children alone. Because you survived.”
“I ran.” Her composure fractured, and she tried to turn her head away.
“Running is not weakness.” His hand slid to the back of her neck, holding her gently but firmly. “Sometimes running is the only strength we have.”
Her eyes burned with unshed tears. She wouldn’t cry.
“I have spent nine years hiding.” She gripped his wrist, the confession spilling out in a rush. “Waiting for someone to recognize me. Waiting for Gabriel’s family to come looking. Waiting for everything to fall apart.”
“And now?” He stroked his thumb along her jaw, watching her with intense focus.
“And now you know.” She met his gaze, finally letting him see the entirety of her soul. “Everything. Every ugly piece.”
“There’s nothing ugly about surviving.” He pulled her closer, until their foreheads nearly touched.
“You cannot just forgive this.” She placed her palm against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat.
“There’s nothing to forgive.” He covered her hand with his, holding it against his heart. “You told me the truth. That took more courage than anything I have ever done.”
“Dominic.” She struggled to speak, her breath hitching as she looked away.
“I love you.” He spoke the words like a vow. “Eleanor. Nell. Whatever name you choose, I love you. I loved you before I knew this, and I love you more now that I do.”
She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. She could only stare at him, this man who should hate her, who had every reason to walk away, yet who was still holding her hand like she were the most precious thing in the world.
“You know my worst secret.” She clutched his hand tighter, her knuckles turning white. “And you still...”
“Still love you.” He finished for her, leaning forward to press his forehead against hers. “Still want you. Still need you.”
“How?” The question was a broken, wondering whisper as she searched his face.
“Because you are you.” His thumb traced her cheekbone, catching a tear she hadn’t felt fall. “Because you are fiery and stubborn and maddening. Because you make me want to be better. Because when I was dying, yours was the only name I remembered.”
The tears came then. She couldn’t stop them anymore, and they spilled hot and fast down her cheeks.
“Say it.” He urged her, pulling her closer until his breath was warm against her lips. “Now. When you know I know everything.”
She looked at him, really looked, past the bandage and the bruises to the man beneath. This was the man who had defended her, proposed to her, and nearly died calling her name. He knew her darkest secret and loved her anyway.
“I love you.” The words came easy now, freed from the pressure of secrets, and she cupped his face in her hands. “I love you, and it terrifies me.”
“Why?” He leaned into her touch, his look tracing her face for the source of her fear.
“Because I loved Gabriel once.” She stroked her thumb across his cheekbone, her gaze honest and raw. “Or I thought I did. And look how that ended.”
“I am not Gabriel.” He turned his head, pressing a firm kiss to her palm.
“I know.” She traced the line of his jaw, careful to avoid the bandage at his temple. “I know you are not. But I am still scared.”
“Of what?” He caught her hand and held it against his stubbled cheek.
“Of trusting this.” She gestured between them with her free hand, a small, helpless motion. “Of letting myself believe it’s real.”
“It’s real.” He turned his head again, pressing another kiss to her palm. “I will prove it. Every day. For as long as you let me.”
She stared at him, her heart cracking open. “You mean that.”