That night, she reminded herself to keep her distance from Michael, that they couldn’t ever have the different types of marriage they each wanted. But she still ended up in bed with him, exploring new ways to pleasure each other, turning off her thoughts and just letting herself feel.
He fell asleep first, and she lay wide-awake, aching over the future. She knew when he started to dream, felt him twitch in his sleep, heard mumbling she couldn’t decipher. She turned up the light on the lamp. His face was etched with anguish, and she gently shook his shoulder. He came awake so fast, she gasped and gave a little jump.
“Is something wrong?” he demanded, sitting up with a pistol in his hand.
She stared openmouthed. “No ... no, nothing’s wrong with me. W-where did you get that?”
He exhaled, then slowly slid the gun back beneath his pillow. “I was hardly going to leave you unprotected,” he said mildly. “I didn’t think you needed to see the weapon.”
She swallowed and stared at his pillow, reminding herself that he probably spent much of his life with a weapon close at hand. He saw nothing wrong with it—but for her, it was a scary reminder of how dangerous her life had become.
“Cecilia?” he said curiously. “You woke me for something?”
She dragged her gaze from the pillow and met his. “You were dreaming again.”
He seemed to search her face, his expression one of hesitancy and sorrow.
“What is it?” she whispered, touching his arm. “You can tell me.”
He closed his eyes. “I didn’t want to burden you with any of this.”
“How could your dreams be a burden?”
He shook his head. “The dreams are only a result. I’ve told myself over and over that we made the best decision we could, the honorable decision. And I’ve lived with it, as I’ve had to live with so many things done in war in the name of England.”
Still holding his arm, she felt his tension. He covered her hand with his own.
“But a decision made in battle impacted so many lives, including yours and your brother’s. I thought I didn’t feel guilty because I helped make the best decision we could at the moment. But we were wrong, Cecilia, and lives were lost—including your father’s.”
She inhaled even as she felt the pang of loss.
He ran his hand through his hair. “Because of your father’s death, you’ve had to leave behind the life of a woman and take over for your brother. Appertan no longer has his father’s guidance to grow into a good man. And when I saw this, I realized that my actions affected so many things. I’m so sorry, Cecilia.” He whispered the last in a husky voice full of regret.
She had to swallow the lump that seemed to grow in her throat. “Tell me, Michael. I want to know, even if it hurts us both. But wait.” She slid from the bed, no longer quite so embarrassed at being nude but not wanting to be so while hearing whatever terrible thing Michael blamed himself for. Once she donned her dressing gown, she turned around to find him buttoning his trousers, then limping toward her.
“Do you need your cane?” she asked.
He shook his head as if in irritation, but she knew him well enough to know he simply wanted to tell her the truth immediately, now that he’d made up his mind.
He stared down at her, his expression serious rather than containing his old impassivity. “We were escorting prisoners, Rothford, Knightsbridge, myself, and a small contingent of soldiers. At the time, we were told our prisoners had been thieves, men, women, and even children, and we saw how hungry they were, thought they were trying to save their families as best they could. But others in command believed they knew more information than they were letting on. We were ordered to escort them to a compound, well hidden from most of the world, a place where secrets were ... extracted.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, feeling a chill raise gooseflesh. “That sounds ominous.”
“It is, but sometimes one must do unsavory things in pursuit of justice. We didn’t feel that this band of several dozen, half-starved villagers posed any threat—and that was our first mistake. They deceived us, Cecilia. They deceived us, and we made the decision to let them go.”
She didn’t say anything—what could she say? She saw how he regretted the mistake, knew it had been made to the best of his ability.
“Those ‘starving villagers’ came back with reinforcements and attacked. Three good men died—including your father.”
She bowed her head, and in some ways, it was as if the grief was fresh again. But she knew it was fresh for Michael, too.
“Rothford and Knightsbridge are back in England to make amends to the families of the other two dead soldiers,” Michael continued softly. “They felt a debt of guilt, while I told myself it was one of honor.”
A debt? Even now, was she simply a debt to him? But she couldn’t want more.
“Everything I’ve ever learned told me that guilt is a wasted emotion on the battlefield, that decisions have to be made without overthinking them, or lives would be lost. I told myself I would never let emotion hold sway over me. Yet I couldn’t watch women and children disappear into that compound. Men died because of my decision, Cecilia, and I see the impact on you and your brother. I thought I kept this secret to protect you, but I realized that if I didn’t want to speak of it, there must be a reason. And it’s guilt and shame. I’m so sorry, Cecilia. Words are inadequate to what I’ve cost you.”
He gripped her upper arms and stared down at her with the naked emotion of regret and sorrow etching lines in his face.
