"Can you believe I…"
Her words trailed off, as did her grin, when she saw his expression. His face was the color of chalk and his haunted eyes looked as if they'd been burned into his pale skin. His mouth was drawn into a tight, white-edged line and he radiated tension. Those burning eyes raked her face.
"Are you all right?" he asked in a low, harsh voice she didn't recognize. Before she could even open her mouth to answer, he gave her a quick shake. "Tell me you're all right."
"I'm fine. Wet and clumsy but completely fine."
His fingers tightened on her arms. "You went under the water."
She nodded. "I slipped." Because he seemed so undone, she offered him another smile. "I realize I must look a fright, but it's nothing a towel and a hairbrush can't correct."
Instead of smiling back, he snatched her against him. His arms banded around her like a vise, molding her to him. The hard, fast beats of his heart knocked against her, and with a groan he buried his face in the curve of her neck. At first she thought he was merely overreacting to a simple accident, thinking, as men tended to, that women were composed of fragile glass and would easily break-or in this case, dissolve. But after about ten seconds she realized he was shaking.
"Daniel?" She squirmed in his tight hold and he finally lifted his head. His ravaged expression stunned her. And worried her. Never had she seen such a desolate look in anyone's eyes. And although he was staring at her, it almost seemed that he didn't see her.
She framed his colorless face between her wet hands. "Clearly I scared you. I'm so sorry. But there's no reason to be concerned. I'm fine, Daniel. Absolutely fine." She brushed her thumbs over his cheekbones. "Although it wasn't necessary, I appreciate you dashing into the water to save me."
The dazed expression in his eyes faded a bit, but she was still worried. The man looked as if he'd seen a ghost. Taking his hand, she said, "Let's get out of the water."
He jerked his head in a barely perceptible nod, and with his hand tightly gripping hers, they made their way to the shore. By the time they emerged from the water, he was shivering badly, increasing Carolyn's concern since the day was warm with bright sunshine and the water wasn't cold. She walked to the willow, snatched up the blanket, then led him into the sun.
"Let's sit," she said softly.
He sat down hard on the grass, as if his legs had given out. She wrapped the blanket around his shoulders then knelt in front of him and clasped his hands. His fingers were icy cold, his skin still deathly pale. "Daniel," she said softly. "What's wrong?"
He didn't answer for so long she thought he meant to ignore her. He simply stared out at the water, looking so shaken her heart ached for him. She gently rubbed his chilled hands between hers. And waited.
Finally a bit of color returned to his cheeks and he cleared his throat. "I don't like the water," he said in a voice that sounded as if he hadn't used it in several years.
"So I've gathered. I'm sorry I suggested we eat here. If I'd known your aversion, I never would have-"
"It's not your fault. No one knows. I've never told anyone."
She waited for him to continue, but another long silence ensued. It was obvious he was struggling with something, something that profoundly pained him. Finally she lifted his hands and pressed her lips to his cold fingers. "You don't have to tell me, Daniel."
He turned and looked at her, and her throat swelled at the bleakness in his eyes. His normally perfectly put-together exterior had cracked, breaking the shiny facade to reveal a man who deeply grieved something.
"She died. In the water." The whispered words seemed ripped from his depths. He drew a shuddering breath. "I tried to save her. But it was too late. By the time I dragged her out, she was dead."
Carolyn's breath caught and a flood of sympathy washed over her. "Oh, Daniel. How awful. I'm so very sorry."
His gaze searched hers, as if looking for understanding, then words just poured out of him in a dry rasp. "I'd gone to the lake at Surbrooke Manor. I laid down in my favorite sunny spot and fell asleep. When I woke up, I saw her. In water up to her waist. I called to her, but she kept wading out deeper. Deeper. I couldn't understand why she didn't answer me. I screamed. Louder. Begging her to stop, to look at me.
"Finally she turned. And I saw it in her eyes. I knew what she planned to do. I don't know how I knew, but I knew. I ran into the water, yelling, pleading. I told her I loved her. That I needed her. More than anyone else in the world. But it didn't matter. She turned from me and kept walking. The lake there drops off sharply in the middle. I saw her go under. But I was a good swimmer. Thought I could save her. But I failed. The stones-" His voice broke and he cleared his throat. "She'd weighted down her skirt with stones. I eventually found her. Pulled her up. But it was too late."
Dear God. He'd witnessed a woman he loved kill herself. Had tried to save her, but couldn't. And clearly blamed himself.
Something wet plopped onto her hands, which still tightly held his, and she realized it was a tear. From her. They dripped from her eyes and silently coursed down her cheeks. "Daniel… I'm so sorry."
His eyes bored into hers. "After our meal today I fell asleep, and when I awoke, you were gone. I saw you in the water, walking in deeper, and then going under…" A tremor ran through him. "It was like reliving my worst nightmare."
Guilt and self-reproach stabbed her and she squeezed his hands tighter. "I'm so sorry I frightened you. Like you, I dozed off. When I awoke, I felt hot and uncomfortable and the water seemed so inviting. You were sleeping so soundly, I didn't want to wake you. I planned to just take a quick dip to refresh myself." She'd also planned to entice him to join her if he woke up, not realizing that there was no chance of that.
She bent her head and rested her cheek against their joined hands. "Even though I'm well acquainted with grief, I don't know what to say to you except to express my sorrow that you suffered such a heartbreaking loss. Was your loss… recent?"
Something flicked in his eyes then he shook his head. "No. I was eight. Carolyn, the woman was my mother."
For several long seconds Carolyn could only stare in stunned disbelief. She'd assumed he'd been an adult. Had lost a woman he was in love with. Which was horrible. But for a young boy to witness his own mother's suicide…
"Dear God, Daniel." Now she understood those shadows that clouded his eyes. The pain that lurked in their dark blue depths.
"She'd had another child before me," he said, his voice raw, distant. "A boy. He was stillborn. It sent her into a deep melancholy from which she never fully emerged. I came along about a year later, and although I think she tried to take an interest in me, she simply… couldn't."
"What of your father?"
"He thought I would cheer her spirits, but when I failed to do so, he wanted nothing to do with me. He eventually remarried and had two more sons with his new wife. Sophie never cared for me-if not for me, her eldest son would be the heir. Nor do my half brothers hold me in any esteem, mostly for the same reason. We rarely see each other. They only contact me when they need something, most often money."
His gaze shifted back to the water. "Until his dying day my father blamed me for my mother's death."
Pity for Daniel, for all he'd suffered, and anger at his father's thoughtless cruelty, collided in Carolyn. Certainly it wasn't necessary for his father to blame Daniel for his mother's death-clearly Daniel blamed himself more than anyone else ever could.
She touched his chin and waited until he'd turned back to her. "Do you recall I told you the other day that we cannot control other people's actions-only our own?" After he gave a tight nod, she continued, "Your mother's death was not your fault, Daniel. The sadness that drove her to take her own life had nothing to do with you."