Hope plumed in his chest, pressing his lungs until he could hardly take a breath. “What happened?”
Her eyes darted back and forth between his. Her chest pumped and the words poured like the very rain, drenching him with their cold truth. “He is from the army. He said…he said he is looking to help the man whose daughter had been kidnapped.”
William’s muscles both weakened and toughened in the same quick pulse of blood. She spoke the truth.
Her chin wobbled and he reached for her, ready to speak the comforting words that nestled on his tongue, but she went on.
“I had met him once before—the first day I’d entered New York.”
“You know him?” The question came too quickly.
“Nay, we are only acquainted.” She shook her head. “I came upon him in my search for someone who could tell me the truth of my brother’s death—as that is the other reason I came to America.”
William scowled in question and Anna swallowed, penitence shimmering in her eyes. “My father claimed he took his life, but I don’t believe it.”
Her brother had killed himself?
Looking behind, the prick to continue conversing in the cover of trees almost moved his feet before his legs did. The battle would best be ended now, but sanity brushed past the masculine pride as the thought of Anna being caught in the crossfire consumed every breath. “We must keep moving.” He took her arm and led her along. “Tell me more of this man with whom you spoke.”
She nodded, walking beside him. “In New York he claimed there was a man who knew my brother and could tell me everything I desired to know. I was on my way to find him when that man—the coachman—tried to force me with him, and you blessedly came to my aid.” She clutched his arm harder as grief dripped from her tone like the trails of water down her cheeks. “I must beg your forgiveness, William. I should never have gone out alone, for now not only are my past sorrows resurrected, I have put us both in more danger.”
She knew not the half of what she’d done, and yet he didn’t care. He looked down at her as they walked, aching to be home, out of the rain and to cover her with his affection. Nothing else mattered to him now but that she’d told him. Everything. Just as he’d hoped, but never dared believe. Her meeting with Paul was unintentional and it had left her visibly strained. The knowledge that she was not like Anna Muhr, that she would not withhold the truth and use him for her gain, bound his heart in a balm so powerful the raw wounds healed and the scars all but faded in a burst of blinding light. Love—so passionate and pure, so peaceful yet raging with power—consumed to the deepest part of his lost and lonely spirit. The need to keep her safe, to be with her always, to give her the best of him surged as his heart pumped ever quicker.
He continued the questions as their house came into view. “Did he say anything else to you? What was the name of the man you were to find?”
“I do not recall. Henderson perhaps?” She looked up at him, her thin brows swooped up. “I wish I could have attained the knowledge I sought, but there is a far greater need now.”
He nodded. Aye, the need not to be discovered.
They reached the door and William ushered her in front of him, helping her remove her sopping cloak before shaking off his greatcoat.
She moved to the fire and hovered her hands in the faint heat that still radiated from the weak flames. William reached for a log and rested it atop the hungry embers.
He brushed his hands together to keep from tugging her against him and feeling once more the warmth of her body beside his. Only this time, no doubts would peel them apart. “There may be a time when you can learn what you wish to know about your brother. Having been a soldier, there are many who would have known him. Think not that you must abandon what you desire, ’tis only put aside. Allow the Lord to preserve it for the future. Perhaps when this conflict is finished—”
“Nay. I do not believe there will ever be chance of that now.” She lowered her hands. The dusty light painting her features in softest orange. “Samuel was my dearest friend and guardian after mother died. He could not have changed as they claim he did. He was sweet and good and kind.”
“Do you remember your brother’s rank? Where he served?”
William snapped his mouth shut. He must tread with caution or unwittingly reveal what he loathed to keep hidden.
Anna reached her hands out once more, and ’twas only then he saw that she shivered. He spun around and searched for the shawl he had seen before leaving and snatched it from the back of the kitchen chair, draping it around her shoulders and allowing his hands to rest on the slope of her arms.
The smile she offered in return warmed like a summer sunrise. Looking back to the fire, that sad, reminiscent countenance returned. “Samuel served in Boston and had reached the rank of captain, I believe.”
Slowly, William lowered his hands and stepped back as the room expanded around him, leaving him suspended in a cold, gray light. Like the flash of a long forgotten dream, the reverend’s voice and Anna’s reply pulsed in his ears.
“Forgive me, I didn’t ask your full name.”
“Anna Fairchild Martin Rone.”
William choked on his breath. Dear Lord.
“William?…William?”
Anna’s quiet appeal roused him from the briars, but the thorns remained lodged. He blinked with a quick nod.
“Aye, forgive me.” He flicked a look to the clock on the mantel. “I suppose the soup is ready, hmm?”