Did he want her to?
“Regardless of what sort of marriage we have, there must be some level of trust there, Andrew.” Finally, she looked at him, found his gaze. Uncertainly shone in her eyes. “I shall do my level best in this new role, but I need for you to do the same. It will take a joint effort, especially if we wish for this union to be a success. Isn’t that a portion of what the duty entails?”
He hadn’t seen the problem from that perspective before; he’d only thought of marrying and producing an heir. Yet she was right. He would need to work at the marriage and make it a success, for the years were long enough without hating one’s wife, no matter how many concessions for just that were built into the contract. Now that he saw it as she did, another layer of metaphorical bricks landed upon his shoulders, and he gasped from that weight.
“Oh, God.” Was he already failing now because he knew nothing about his bride-to-be? In his head he imagined Finn’s mocking laughter or Brand’s sarcastic comments about him wasting the title, and he choked. Black spots danced at the edges of his vision.
“Andrew, breathe.” Sarah crawled over the quilt to his position, paying no mind to the spilled lemonade that dampened a spot on her skirts. She kneeled beside him and wrapped her arms about him. The scents of violets and clover teased his nose and helped bring order to the chaos bouncing through his brain. “Don’t think of everything at once. Take one task at a time, pay one thing your attention, and then move on to the next once it’s finished.” The dulcet tones of her voice sailed across his consciousness and scrubbed at the blackness that wanted to swallow him. “Rest easy knowing I’ll help you if I can, as your wife, as your countess, as your friend.”
“I don’t have many friends. Not anymore.” He’d pushed everyone away before they could see how broken he was, before they could judge him, before they could leave.
It was easier and hurt less.
Or so he’d thought.
“Shh.” She rubbed a hand up and down his arm with slow, soothing motions. “Start with one and go from there. I’ll wager there are plenty of people who worry about you but don’t know how to reach out or help.”
He turned his head into her, following the sound of her voice, and rested his cheek on her breasts, tucked an arm around her hips. Beneath his ear, her heartbeat thrummed steady and fast. She was warm and real, in this moment, with him, and she hadn’t shied away at the beginnings of this attack. That was something. For long seconds he remained like that, borrowing from her quiet strength until the terror and the darkness had been beaten back enough that he could function.
Finally, he pulled away and sought her gaze. Nothing except concern and compassion were reflected in her brown eyes. “I apologize for that moment of weakness.” He looked away lest she see the demons on his face.
“Never apologize for everything you’re fighting against. It means you haven’t given up, and that means you’re alive.” She sat back with her legs folded beneath her, and putting a palm to his cheek, she turned his head until she could stare into his eyes. “In this moment, you are enough. Keep building those moments before going forward.”
Somehow, for some reason, she understood at least a part of what ailed him. And the freedom therein was incredible. He nodded, but then couldn’t help himself. He surged into her and claimed her lips in a brief kiss that was all too short but what he needed. “Thank you. I vow to make you proud.”
“Find pride in yourself first.” She patted his cheek and then sat back. “Should we do justice to your cook’s basket?”
“Of course, but first, I want you to have this.” Drew delved a finger into the pocket of his waistcoat and brought forth a ring. Sunlight sparkled off the round two-carat emerald surrounded by tiny diamonds. The gold setting gleamed as bright as her hair. “This belonged to my grandmother. I believe it was her engagement ring once upon a time.” Taking up her left hand, he tugged on the kid glove until it slipped from the appendage. “I’d be honored if you’d accept it as yours.”
“It’s gorgeous,” she breathed.
“The color suits you.” His hand shook as he slipped the bauble onto the fourth finger. “You have my promise that I’ll do my best.”
“That’s a step toward a solid foundation.” When she smiled, a trace of moisture welled in her eyes. “You’re not alone, Andrew. Remember that.”
Somehow, she’d gotten past his defenses and had already made an impression. How long would it be until that foundation she talked of crumbled and he was exposed as the colossal failure that he truly was?