The fleeting moment of peace broke. He looked at her with a curled lip. Rage flashed in his eyes, evident in the one hand he curled into a fist. “Don’t presume to dictate how I should live my life or conduct myself.” Beads of sweat formed on his forehead. “I’ve done well enough without you.” His breath came in labored pants.
“Is that true, though?” Sarah asked softly. “Those attacks don’t suddenly appear in someone’s life. I’ll wager you’ve struggled with them for some now, and with each passing day, each new responsibility you add, the weight you carry staggers you.” Slowly, so as not to startle him, she stood while he eyed her with suspicion. “On some level, didn’t you wish for this marriage because you want help but don’t know how to ask for it?”
“I… I…” He pressed his hand to his chest, then clenched it and held the fabric of his shirt in his fist. He gulped for breath, edging backward until he put his free hand against a tree trunk. “I shouldn’t need it. My father never grappled with being the earl, so why am I?” Confusion filled his eyes, but the pleading at the back of those stormy depths cried out for her to do something that would ease his suffering.
This was the most honest and open he’d been in her presence since they’d met. Her heart squeezed. “I suspect you didn’t know the truth of the matter, and I’m sure your mother was his biggest support.” When he sputtered, hovered somewhere between anger and despair, alternately fighting for breath as the attack went on, Sarah lifted her flute to her lips. She played another favorite passage, this time from a Beethoven sonata.
By the time she finished, he’d visibly calmed and had control of himself once more. How interesting. She would need to explore the effect of music on him further. Perhaps that was how she’d reach past the walls he’d built around himself.
“Do you want to talk about your family more?”
He gave a curt shake of his head. “I do not.”
That wasn’t unexpected, but she would practice patience. “Have you invited them to our wedding?”
“I wrote, but the letter wasn’t posted until yesterday.” He didn’t leave the relative safety of the tree.
“Sooner or later you will have to stop building your defenses to keep everyone out,” she said, hoping for a breezy tone as if his mess didn’t matter. “You don’t need to do any of this by yourself.” In a softer voice she added, “It doesn’t make a man weak to ask for assistance or even a shoulder to heft the load for a while.”
He snorted and stared as if he didn’t know what to make of her. “It’s to protect them—you.” The chords of his neck worked with a hard swallow. “I’ve already hurt my family, Sarah. I pray to God I won’t hurt you as well.” He shook his head. “I don’t want to evolve from an angry man into a monster.” The waver in his voice went straight to her heart.
“Then start with trust, Andrew. Let me in.” She held out her free hand.
“Where are we going?” He bounced his gaze between her fingers and her face.
“Nowhere. You can sit here with me and enjoy the fact that you’re alive for a purpose.”
For long moments he regarded her with narrowed eyes. Finally, he came forward and slipped his hand into hers. “I’m not certain I know how to let go long enough to trust.”
It was a start and a definite opening. While she thrilled at the advance internally, she kept her own counsel as she pulled him to the boulder and then sat beside him. “We shall tackle the problem together.” She squeezed his fingers in assurance. “For the moment, we’ll sit here in silence with no pressure, no demands, no deadlines, for the ability to relax is also an expression of trust.”
A shuddering sigh was his only answer, but he didn’t release her hand.
Sarah tamped on the urge to grin. There was hope for their union, she just knew it.