Page 61 of ?n Arranged Betrothal with a Blind Duke
It was not a gentle realization, but a force that struck her with the power of a thunderbolt. It was in the way he held himself, in the dignity with which he faced a world he could not see, in the kindness that shone from him even in his darkest moments. Her love for him was not a fleeting affection but a deep, abiding passion that she knew would last a lifetime.
She held his hand, feeling the warmth of his skin and the strength in his fingers. He did not pull away but allowed her touch, his face still a mask of contemplation.
“Adrian?” she whispered, her voice filled with the love she now recognized.
He turned his head slightly, acknowledging her presence but saying nothing.
“I’m here for you,” she said, her voice filled with conviction. “Whatever you need, whatever you feel, know that I’m here.”
He remained silent, but she felt his hand squeeze hers, a simple gesture that conveyed more than words could say. They sat together in the rose garden, surrounded by the beauty of nature but lost in a world of their own. Annabelle knew that this was a pivotal moment in their relationship, a time when truths were recognized, and feelings laid bare.
As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a golden glow over everything, she knew that they had crossed a threshold. There was no going back, no denying the love that had blossomed between them. Her heart swelled with joy and anticipation, knowing that she had found the love of her life in Adrian. And as they sat together in the fading light, she also knew that they were ready to face whatever the future might hold. Together, they were strong, united by a love that transcended all barriers, even those of sight and perception. That was if he felt the same way about her. But if his reaction to the incident the previous day was any indication, she suspected that he did.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Adrian sat silently on the bench, his free hand clenched in his lap, his face a mask of contemplation. Annabelle’s words had stirred something deep within him, something he had long buried and sought to forget. The memory of the incident at the lake was sharp, its edges cutting into him even now, filling the atmosphere with its icy touch.
The garden was filled with the gentle whistling of the birds and the rustling of the rose bushes amidst which they sat, a comforting sound that did little to ease the tension. Annabelle sat beside him, her eyes wide with concern, her hands wrapped tightly around his. Her words had opened a door, and now they both stared into the abyss beyond.
He could feel her watching him, her gaze tender and probing. The weight of her concern was almost physical, pressing against him, urging him to speak. His heart ached with a longing to confide in her, to share the burden he had carried for so long. His silence wasn’t one of anger. It was one of long, contemplative debate. He needed to say something to Annabelle. He just hoped that it wouldn’t frighten her away.
“I must tell you something,” he finally said, his voice hoarse with emotion.
Annabelle’s face brightened, and she leaned forward, her eyes locked on his.
“Of course, Adrian,” she said. “I am right here for you. What is it?”
He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. The words were there, but they were heavy, and he feared what they might unleash.
“My blindness,” he began, his voice trembling, “has been both my greatest challenge and fear.”
He paused, feeling a sharp pang in his chest as the words hung in the air. He could hear Annabelle’s sharp intake of breath, feel her anxiety mounting. He knew she could be sick of hearing him complain about his blindness, especially in reference to how it might affect her in the future. But he felt that if he were to ever move on from what happened the previous day, he needed to get all the thoughts out of his head. And he was beginning to believe that Annabelle truly cared for him, and that she genuinely wanted to help him.
“Go on,” she urged gently, her hand moving to rest on his shoulder. Her touch was warm and reassuring, and he found the courage to continue.
“I have had countless moments when it has made me question my worth,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I have wondered who would desire a man unable to appreciate the world’s beauty, unable to look into the face of his own wife.” He squeezed her hand, his eyes brimming with unshed tears.
“Oh, Adrian,” Annabelle whispered, her voice breaking. “You mustn’t think that way. Your worth is not defined by your eyesight. You are so much more than that, as I told you. You must see that, or you will put yourself through misery that a man as kind and caring as you could never deserve.”
He shook his head, a bitter smile touching his lips.
“I have felt that way,” he said, his voice strengthening. “But now, you have given me a fresh perspective, Annabelle.”
She gasped softly, and she sat up straighter.
“I have?” she asked, her voice filled with hope.
Adrian nodded, giving her a warm smile.
“Yes,” he said, his voice full of conviction. “You have shown me that there is more to life than what I can see. You have taught me to appreciate the world in a new way, through touch and sound and emotion. You have made me realise that nothing is confined to the visual, that it resides in the soul.”
A sniffle told Adrian that a tear slipped down Annabelle’s cheek, and she leaned forward, her face shining with love and understanding.
“Oh, Adrian, I am so glad to hear that,” she said. “It weighed heavily on my heart, knowing that you thought so poorly of yourself.”
He reached out and touched her face, feeling the warmth of her skin, the wetness of her tears.
They sat together, their hands entwined, their hearts beating as one, a newfound understanding and acceptance settling between them. The incident at the lake seemed far away now, a distant memory overshadowed by the love and trust that had blossomed in its wake. For Adrian, the darkness had lifted, replaced by a light that was all the more beautiful for having been discovered in the deepest recesses of his soul. His blindness was no longer a curse but a part of who he was, a part of the man that Annabelle loved. And that, he realized, was all that mattered.
