Page 54

Was this happiness? This ache behind her ribs, the constant state of restless longing? The question tugged at her, persistent as her own shadow.

The creak of the gate cut through the hush. Heart in her throat, she turned. Graham filled the opening, tall and silent, his hair mussed as if sleep had eluded him too. No hat, no physician’s cool detachment—just the man.

“Abigail.” Her name, low and unhurried, landed like a caress. He didn’t sound surprised to find her there.

“Graham.” She shifted on the bench to make room for him.

He hesitated, then closed the gate behind him and crossed to join her. “I couldn’t sleep and this place wouldn’t leave my thoughts.” He exhaled a long breath. “I always breathe easier here.”

She nodded, understanding.

Silence spun between them—expectant, alive. Moonlight slipped through the leaves of the apple tree overhead, casting shadows on her skirts. She traced the pattern with the tip of her finger.

“Why couldn’t you sleep?”

His hands tensed on his knees. “The girls were excited. They insisted on showing me their dresses three times before bed. Heather wanted to sleep in hers.”

Abigail smiled, envisioning the scene. “And Mary Ann objected to the impropriety?”

“Vehemently.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “She informed her sister that wedding clothes are sacred and not to be treated as nightgowns.”

Another silence, this one warmer.

“That’s not why you couldn’t sleep.” She waited, wondering if he’d share this small thing with her.

“No,” he admitted. “It wasn’t.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I was thinking about... tomorrow. About you, actually.” His ears reddened visibly, even in the moonlight. “I kept wondering if you’d still appear at the church or if perhaps you’d come to your senses.”

Abigail lifted a brow, not really offended. However, she did not come to his rescue.

His hands curled into fists, and he shifted his weight. “I didn’t mean to imply this is anything like your previous situation.” He stopped, and a muscle worked in his jaw before he tried again. “That is to say—are you sure you want to do this?”

Laughter sparked, sudden and irrepressible, spilling out until her shoulders shook and tears pricked her eyes. The night air tasted sweet with it.

“Oh,” she breathed, brushing away tears. “You are truly impossible.”

He looked so stricken that her heart twisted. She reached for his hand, fingers closing around the roughness of his knuckles.

“Running from the Duke of Wilds was the best decision I ever made. I wouldn’t change it, even with all the scandal and shame.”

The words left her lighter.

He laced his fingers through hers. For a long moment, he just looked at their joined hands in the dappled moonlight before whispering, “You’re not afraid?”

His words, stripped to the bone, revealed something desperate that made her want to take him in her arms.

“Of becoming a duchess? Terrified.” The confession slipped out, honest as the night. “But of marrying you? No.”

Graham raised his gaze to hers. “You were right when I said I was proposing out of duty.”

Her breath caught and her heart gave an unpleasant jolt. “And now?” she asked through a suddenly tight throat.

He skimmed his thumb across her cheek. “Now I think perhaps it was always meant to be this way. You and I. The girls. This life we’re building.”

His touch sent a surge of heady excitement racing through her. A deepening desire she’d never known dawned, and she leaned into it. She tightened her grip on his hand.

“It’s not exactly a fairy tale, is it?”

“No.” His gaze, dark and earnest, slid over her. “Something better. Something real.”