Page 60 of Claiming His Lost Duchess
Graham's expression grew even more gentle, if such a thing were possible, and Joan could see understanding beginning to dawn in his eyes.
“But when you touched my hand while we were drinking that night,” she continued, her voice growing stronger with each word, “When your fingers brushed against mine as you passed me the glass, I felt warmth instead of revulsion. For the first time in my life, a man's touch didn't make me want to run or hide or disappear entirely.”
She paused, gathering her courage for the most difficult part of her confession.
“And I was terrified of being caught by Benedict again, of not being able to escape a second time. I knew that if he found me, if he dragged me back to that house, I would never have another opportunity to flee. So I wanted that one night to be mine, to be a choice I made freely rather than something that was taken from me.”
Joan's voice grew softer, more vulnerable, as she continued.
“I wanted to know what it felt like to choose something for myself, to want something, and actually be able to have it. I wanted to understand what it meant to give affection rather than have it stolen from me.”
Graham's eyes darkened with emotion so intense that Joan felt her breath catch in her throat. Before she could lose her courage entirely, she added the final piece of her confession.
“I wanted to know what it felt like to be with a man who was kind, who made me feel safe instead of terrified. Even if it was only for one night.”
The silence that followed her words seemed to stretch endlessly, filled with the weight of years of longing and pain and hope. Then, without warning, Graham reached for her, pulling her into his arms with infinite gentleness, as though she were made of the most delicate porcelain.
“Joan,” he whispered against her hair, his voice rough with emotion, “Ye will never be in a position like that again. Never, do ye hear me? Ye have your freedom now, mo ghràdh, completeand absolute freedom. Even if it means letting ye go, even if it means living without ye, I will never hold ye back or restrain ye or trap ye in any way.”
His arms tightened around her as his voice grew more fierce, more protective.
“And I will kill anyone who dares to try to take that freedom away from ye. Anyone who tries to harm ye or frighten ye or make ye feel anything less than the extraordinary woman ye are.”
Joan laughed softly against his chest, the sound surprising them both with its genuine warmth.
“I'm sorry for stealing your money that night,” she said, her voice muffled by his shirt. “It wasn't much, but I know it must have been inconvenient.”
“I don't care about the money,” Graham said immediately, his voice rough with emotion and something deeper that made her heart race. “Ye could have taken everything I owned, and it wouldn't have mattered. Because ye took my heart and mind with ye when ye left, and those were worth far more than any amount of gold.”
Joan said nothing in response to that declaration, but she allowed herself to relax fully into his embrace, feeling safer and more cherished than she had ever thought possible. As sleep began to claim her, her defenses lowered by exhaustionand emotional revelation, she murmured against his chest the admission she had never intended to make aloud.
“I couldn't take your ring when I left that night,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “It was on the table beside the bed, and I could have, but… I saw how much it meant to you. It looked like something that had been in your family for generations, something precious and irreplaceable. I couldn't bear to steal something that important from someone who had been so kind to me.”
Graham's arms tightened around her, his heart racing beneath her cheek with such intensity that she could feel it like a drumbeat against her skin. His voice, when he finally spoke, was thick with emotion that she couldn't quite identify.
“Aye,” he whispered into her hair, his accent thick with feeling, “It did mean something to me. It means everything to me.”
He held her as she drifted into sleep, marveling at the trust she had shown him in sharing her painful history, wishing with every fiber of his being that he could have found her sooner – perhaps even before that first night at the inn, before she had been forced to endure years of fear and uncertainty.
But she was here now, safe in his arms, and he silently vowed that he would spend every day of his remaining life ensuring she never felt trapped or helpless or alone again. The woman who had captured his heart five years ago with her courage and vulnerability had grown into someone even more precious – asurvivor, a mother, a duchess who defended her family with the fierce protectiveness of a lioness.
As her breathing deepened into the rhythm of true sleep, Graham continued to hold her, watching the play of firelight across her peaceful face and feeling more content than he had ever thought possible. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new opportunities to prove his devotion and earn her trust more completely. But tonight, she was exactly where she belonged – safe in his arms, surrounded by his love, protected by his promise that no one would ever hurt her again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Graham's family's departure was marked by the arrival of dawn. The house, which had been filled with laughter and chaos and the wonderful commotion of multiple generations for nearly a week, now felt simultaneously peaceful and oddly empty, like a theater after the final curtain has fallen and the audience had returned to their dwellings.
Joan stood at the front entrance of the house, Sophia's small hand warm and slightly sticky in her own, as they watched the final carriage disappear around the bend in the drive. The goodbyes had been bittersweet affairs, filled with promises to write frequently and plans for future visits that had the children bouncing with anticipation even as tears threatened to spill from their eyes at the immediate separation.
Sophia had been particularly inconsolable at the thought of her newfound cousins leaving, clinging to young Eleanor's hand with the desperate intensity of a child who had discovered the joy of companionship only to have it snatched away again. The little girl's tears had been heartbreaking to witness, butCatherine had immediately knelt to Sophia's level with the intuitive understanding that seemed to run in the family.
“Oh, my darling,” Catherine had said, her warm voice gentle but reassuring, “Do not cry. We shall arrange playdates very soon, I promise you that. Perhaps you and your mama and papa can come visit us in just a few weeks? My children are already planning all the adventures they want to show you.”
The transformation in all the children's faces at this prospect had been immediate and magical – tears replaced by excited chatter about horses and gardens and secret hiding places that simply must be explored together.
The adult farewells had been equally touching, though tempered with the more emotional restraint that came with age and experience. Margaret had embraced Joan with genuine warmth, the sincere affection seeping out through her touch and smile.
“You've brought such wonderful light to his eyes,” Margaret had whispered in Joan's ear during their embrace, her voice carrying the kind of conviction that suggested deep observation rather than mere politeness. “I haven't seen my brother this genuinely happy since we were children. Thank you for restoring his youth.”
