Her vis
ion misted as his words etched in her mind. What can be won. The quiet rush of their breath, the only sound, rustled the air between them and smeared ignorance from her face to her feet. How foolish she was. How low and self-centered.
Shame made her drop her gaze. But what could be won? Was helping those in Boston truly worthy of such a risk? Were there not others who could do the same? Others closer and more able?
“Anna.” His rich timbre, smooth and draped with caring, urged her to look at him. “I had no brothers. I did have sisters.”
This brought her head and eyebrows up.
The way his smile rounded, the way his breath went heavy, told Anna he spoke the truth. The pain he tried to mask behind his eyes whispered of loss. She released her arms and pulled the chair beside her, then sat. “They are passed.”
Looking down, his neck flexed and his jaw ticked. “My father died of the pox—we were all taken with it.” He pulled his bottom lip through his teeth. “The rest of us recovered, but Mother and Julia and Jane were not quite themselves again, though I never heard a word of complaint from them.”
Anna stared, fearing if she spoke or even breathed aloud, he would cease sharing this precious revelation.
He peered at her, moving his eyes only. She offered a small smile to urge him onward.
A large sigh heaved from him. “They mended clothes and I worked at the smithy.” His eyes lowered once again, and Anna gripped her hands at her lap to keep from reaching for him. “We had but little, and what means acquired were enough to keep us alive.”
Enough to keep alive? She had never known such poverty.
His throat bobbed and his voice scraped the floor at her feet. “But they are gone now, and though I would gladly have gone in their stead I am left to mourn the loss of them until ’tis my turn to breathe my last.”
Unable to stop herself, Anna reached for his rounded fist, and stroked his skin. His eyes shifted to hers.
“I am so, so sorry.” She could not fully flood the words with the emotion that welled within her. “I know that loss. It is consuming.”
He said nothing, but his eyes remained locked on hers as she stood.
“It grieves me that you should so keenly suffer at the memory of them,” she said. “I feel the loss of my mother and brother with every sunrise, every sunset.” She glanced down, weighing the sudden words that rose to her lips. Pushing aside the thread of resistance, she spoke. “I will strive ever harder to make your days joyful. You were the first person to show true kindness to me since their passing. Despite our secrets, despite everything, I am happy, so happy, to be your wife, William.”
Once her lips stopped moving, her skin went hot and pricked. She waited. Would he speak? But he said nothing. Her heart, full and raw, rested with its center to the sky. Did he feel the same? The truth bobbed between them like a rowboat on a choppy sea, ready at any moment to capsize and plummet to the rocky bottom.
Regret began its way up her back. Oh why hadn’t she kept such things safe? For now, he would either feel obligated to profess the same, or would be awkward in her presence or—
In a single swift motion he lifted her chin and descended, pressing his lips over hers, so warm, so gentle. So wanting. Tingles of pleasure trailed down her skin as he nudged her mouth apart, his hands cupping and angling her head to more fully accept him. She couldn’t breathe, her limbs weightless. The floor melted away and she reached for him, gripping his chest to keep from falling. Never had she felt such burning—a deep powerful yearning to be one—to feel this way again and again and be his unyielding companion until the end of her days.
Was this love? Did he love her? Did she love him? The thought nearly made her pull away, but he held tight, his hands trailing up her back and into her hair, tasting more of her. She surrendered, tilting her head back as he trailed hot kisses along her neck. ’Twas good, was it not? ’Twas more than good. ’Twas natural. As husband and wife, this kind of longing would make them as one, would bring children into the world.
With a gasp she pushed away, her breath heaving. She brought a hand to her lips, feeling the warmth where his mouth had been.
“Did I frighten you? I’m sorry.” His heady tone kneaded the air between them.
“Nay, you did not.” She swallowed and glanced up, her heart pounding, pleading to finish what they’d begun. The sight of his own mouth, red and glistening, made her long to feel his lips against her skin once more. The truth dragged at her spirit and she looked away. Tears threatened, but she pressed them back. “I…there is something…something I…”
“What?”
Her breath came in quick, sharp bursts. Lord help me. She had better speak quickly and end the agony. She opened her mouth then snapped it shut. What would he say? He could leave her, could he not? For not disclosing the truth of her barren womb?
“Anna, what is it?” He neared, crooking a finger around her chin and nudging her face forward. His eyes, large pools of tender blue, swam with longing. “Tell me.”
She bit her lip and scrunched her eyes before finding the strength to form the words on her tongue. Once she did, they came fast and pinched with grief. “I cannot bear children.”
~~~
William stared at her mouth, blinking to clear his clouded vision. He breathed in deep to make way for any other thought than that of taking her in his arms once more, to test his lips against her silken skin and press her femininity against his chest.
And though he wished to, he could not.