The Welcoming

was especially difficult today.
    They were to have been married today. Charity veered into the grass as Ludwig explored. The ache came, spread and was accepted. Just after noon, with the music swelling and the sun streaming down on the garden, she would have put her hand in his. And promised.
    A fantasy, she told herself, and nudged her dog back onto the shoulder of the road. It had been fantasy then, and it was a fantasy now.
    And yet . . . With every day that passed she remembered more clearly the times they had spent together. His reluctance, and his anger. Then his tenderness and concern. She glanced down to where the bracelet shimmered on her wrist.
    She’d tried to put it back in the box, to push it into some dark, rarely opened drawer. Every day she told herself she would. Tomorrow. And every day she remembered how sweet, how awkward and how wonderful he’d been when he’d given it to her.
    If it had only been a job, why had he given her so much more than he had needed to? Not just the piece of jewelry, but everything the circle of gold had symbolized? He could have offered her friendship and respect, as Bob had, and she would have trusted him as much. He could have kept their relationship strictly physical. Her feelings would have remained the same.
    But he had said he loved her. And at the end he had all but begged her to believe it.
    She shook her head and increased her pace. She was being weak and sentimental. It was just the day . . . the beautiful spring morning that was to have been her wedding day.
    What she needed was to get back to the inn and keep busy. This day would pass, like all the others.
    At first she thought she was imagining it when she saw him standing beside the road, looking out at the sunrise over the water. Her feet faltered. Before she could think to prevent it, her knees weakened. Fighting her heart, she walked to him.
    He’d heard her coming. As he’d stood in the growing light he’d remembered wondering if he came back, if he would stand just there and wait for Charity to run to him.
    She wasn’t running now. She was walking very slowly, despite the eager dog. Could she know, he wondered, that she held his life in her hands?
    Nerves swarmed through her, making her fingers clench and unclench on the leash. She prayed as she stopped in front of him that her voice would be steadier.
    “What do you want?”
    He bent down to pat the squirming dog’s head. “We’ll get to that. How are you feeling?”
    “I’m fine.”
    “You’ve been having nightmares.” There were shadows under her eyes. He wouldn’t make it easy on her by ignoring them.
    She stiffened. “They’re passing. Mae talks too much.”
    “At least she talks to me.”
    “We’ve already said all there is to say.”
    He closed a hand over her arm as she started by him. “Not this time. You had your say last time, and I had a lot of it coming. Now it’s my turn.” Reaching down, he unhooked the leash. Free, Ludwig bounded toward home. “Mae’s waiting for him,” Roman explained before Charity could call the dog back.
    “I see.” She wrapped the leash around her fisted hand. “You two work all this out?”
    “She cares about you. So do I.”
    “I have things to do.”
    “Yeah. This is first.” He pulled her close and, ignoring her struggling, crushed his mouth to hers. It was like a drink after days in the desert, like a fire after a dozen long cold nights. He plundered, greedy, as though it were the first time. Or the last.
    She couldn’t fight him, or herself. Almost sobbing, she clung to him, hungry and hurting. No matter how strong she tried to be, she would never be strong enough to stand against her own heart.
    Aching, she started to draw back, but he tightened his hold. “Give me a minute,” he murmured, pressing his lips to her hair. “Every night I wake up and see him holding a knife at your throat. And there’s nothing I can do. I reach for you, and you’re not there. For a minute, one horrible minute, I’m terrified. Then I remember that you’re safe. You’re not with me, but you’re safe. It’s almost enough.”
    “Roman.” With a helpless sigh, she stroked soothing hands over his shoulders. “It doesn’t do any good to think about it.”
    “Do you think I could forget?” He pulled back, keeping his hands firm on her arms. “For the rest of my life I’ll remember every second of it. I was responsible for you.”
    “No.” The anger came quickly enough to