Chapter Twenty
Shivers racked Sarah’s body as she held onto Andrew. For one moment she let herself enjoy the strength of his arm around her waist, but this was no time to rest on their laurels. As she looked at him, her heart leapt. She felt the literal movement in her chest; it wasn’t a figment of her imagination. Perhaps Tilly had been right all along.
“Hold onto me. I need both my arms to bring us to the creekbank.” His gruff order rang in her ears, but the nominal warmth of his body was too inviting for her to protest.
She nodded and looped her arms about his shoulders. Her legs were heavy and weighted with skirting, but she tried her best to wrap them around his waist. “Hurry.”
“I’m doing my level best,” he replied, the words pushed out from around clenched teeth.
Inch by slow inch he moved along the underside of the coach and soon they’d cleared the wheel. When he neared the creekbank, he kept hold of the wheel, the frame, any bit of the fallen coach he could manage as he gained a foothold on the muddy bank. “Archie, help.”
A man she assumed was a driver slipped down the slope. He snatched at the hand she extended, and with a mighty yank, he pulled her from Andrew’s hold.
Her skirting snagged on a few sticks that protruded from the mud. She fumbled to free them while the driver tugged on her hand and wrist. With the dull sound of wet fabric tearing, her body slid up the muddy bank. Once she was fully out of danger, the driver let go her hand to tend to assisting her husband up. Two other men held onto her arms and dragged her a bit away from the creek, away from the rushing water. When they left her to help Archie, she gasped for breath, her palms firmly against the wet grass, her mind in a whirl.
How the deuce had he appeared as if by magic when she’d needed him? Then her heartbeat accelerated as she glanced over her shoulder at the men who were retrieving him from the creek water. He’d come home early. That was the only way he could have met her on the road. Pleasure mixed with annoyance in her chest.
All too soon, Andrew stumbled over to her location. Mud covered his person like it did her. His hair was slicked back from his forehead, rain rolled down his face, but he helped Sarah to her feet and bundled her into his arms for a tight hug. “My God, I feared I’d lost you.”
To the rushing water or forever? Suddenly, she desperately wished to know. Wedging her hands between them, she pressed her palms to his chest and shoved him away. Emotions surged inside her in a chaotic mix, and she let them rage. No doubt they were a direct result of reaction, but she didn’t care. They’d have this argument, but at least the air would be cleared, and she would know where she stood with him.
“Of course, you’d return in time to play the hero because that puts all the attention on you. Folks won’t think you’re such an arse that way, will they?” She didn’t care that the drivers looked on or that poor Tilly and her hurt driver were stranded on the far bank. As with each interaction with her husband, he drove her to the extremes.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Hurt jumped into his expression. “I never planned on being a hero, but from the looks of things, you couldn’t wait to break your promise to me.” He shoved a hand through his dripping hair. “If you wish to leave me, say it, Sarah.” In a quieter voice, he added. “I’ll understand. I’ve been the world’s biggest bastard, but I want you to know that I’m in the process of changing.”
The admission stole some of her ire away. “Actions speak louder, Andrew, and I haven’t seen such from you.”
“That’s fair.” He took a step toward her, but when she held up a hand, he paused, insecurity in his stormy eyes.
“I’ve maintained my position all along, and I will not stay with a man who gives into his anger and temper. Nor can I live with a man who won’t let himself feel. Emotions are a part of life. Good or bad, we all have them. They’re a sign that we’re alive, but we can’t ignore him.”
“Sarah.”
“No.” She paused for breath and to shiver again. Rain dotted her spectacle lenses, obstructing her vision. It was best to say her piece here and now, for she might not have another chance. “I won’t live with a man who refuses to forgive others and himself, a man who seeks to orchestrate everyone else’s life except his own.”
“Sarah—”
“Let me finish,” she interrupted whatever he would say. As exhaustion sank into her shaking limbs, she planted her hands on her hips. “I need you, Andrew. Only you, not your title, your wealth, your position, your name.” After this, she’d be vulnerable for him to make jest of, but at least she would have told him how she felt. “Just you, protecting me, supporting me, loving me as I do you.”
His lower jaw dropped then his mouth worked as if he were a caught fish. For several seconds, no sound issued from him. Finally, he apparently got himself in hand. “You love me?”
“Yes.” Now that she’d said it aloud, she feared his reaction. “I’m well aware you probably don’t return that regard, but I can’t help how I feel and wanted you to know in the event that you…” Her words trailed off, for she couldn’t remember what she wanted to say. Her attention never left his face, and the transformation was… amazing.
Never had she seen such joy or hope in his expression. A slow grin curved those impossibly chiseled lips. The gesture reflected in his eyes and he took another step forward. Two hand lengths separated them now. “Sarah?”
“Yes?” The one-word question was propelled on a wave of breathlessness. Had she concluded her argument sufficiently? Did it matter anymore?
“I love you too.” As she stared, he closed the distance and took her into his arms, holding her close, rocking her in his embrace. “Don’t ever do that to me again.” He pressed his lips into her temple, and the shudders that racked his body transferred to hers.
“I won’t.” She could scarcely breathe he held her so tightly, nor could she think properly. There were so many questions she wanted to ask, but none would leave the tip of her tongue.
“I can’t survive without you; I know that now,” he whispered into her ear. “When I went to London, I had mixed feelings, was a different man than the one standing here.” He pulled away only to hold her head between his hands. “I was an arse and a fool.” His eyes bored into hers. “Finn is all right. He told me much the same thing as you did.”
“That’s wonderful to hear—”
He cut off her words with a quick, hard kiss that tasted of muddy creek water. “I was given a letter that my father penned before his death, meant for me on my wedding day.” The joy in his countenance hadn’t lessened. “It explained so many things and made me realize something above everything else.”
“Yes?” Had she been reduced to uninteresting one-word answers?