Chapter 32

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

O ver the next week, Daniel strolled with Eliza through her gardens and the gardens of Blackwood Manor every morning. Her arm looped through his, the soft rustling of her gown harmonizing with the sound of the gravel path beneath their feet. Every step she took seemed more confident than the last. He stole a glance at her, her cheeks flushed with the bloom of health, and his heart swelled with warmth.

"You're walking with such ease now," Daniel remarked, his voice light. "I suppose soon you won't need my arm at all."

Eliza smiled up at him, her eyes gleaming with that quiet strength he admired so deeply. "Perhaps not for walking," she teased gently, "but I may still need it for other things. "

He chuckled. "I think I could live with that arrangement."

They continued their walk, the conversation flowing naturally between them. They spoke of the wedding, of the plans coming together, and of their future. Daniel cherished these moments with her.

"I was thinking," Eliza said, her voice thoughtful, "for the reception, we could line the garden paths with lanterns. It would be beautiful at dusk."

"That sounds perfect," he agreed, his eyes scanning the manicured rows of flowers and neatly trimmed hedges. "Perhaps we could also place some near the entrance of the orchard. The trees would look magnificent in the evening light."

Eliza nodded, her steps sure and graceful. "Yes, and imagine the guests walking along those paths, the lanterns casting a soft glow, the music—"

A sudden crash shattered the serenity of the moment.

Glass splintered against stone, the sharp sound cutting through the peace of the garden like a gunshot. Daniel's breath hitched, his body reacting before his mind could catch up. The world around him shifted, the sounds of birdsong and gentle conversation drowned out by the deafening echoes of cannon fire and musket shots. The scent of flowers became the stench of gunpowder and blood.

Enemy fire .

Without thinking, Daniel grabbed Eliza, his instincts taking over as he shoved her to the ground, his body covering hers in a protective shield. He braced himself for the incoming onslaught, his heart pounding in his ears. The weight of his own fear pressed down on him, the world shrinking to the battlefields he thought he'd left behind. The chaos, the urgency—it all came rushing back.

He could feel Eliza trembling beneath him, and for a moment, he believed he was shielding her from danger, from the bullets that would tear through the air at any moment. His breath came in short, harsh gasps as he scanned the garden for threats, his muscles tense and ready for action.

Then, a voice. Gentle, steady, pulling him back from the brink.

"Daniel … Daniel, look at me."

It was soft at first, but it grew louder, more real. "Daniel, it's all right. You're safe. Look at me."

The words reached him like a distant echo, cutting through the fog of his mind. Slowly, the garden came back into focus. The smell of flowers replaced the acrid smoke of battle. The only sound was the faint rustle of leaves and the gentle breeze. The battlefield was gone.

He blinked, disoriented. The first thing he saw was Eliza's face beneath him, her hands cupping his cheeks gently, her eyes wide but calm, her lips moving as she whispered soothing words .

"Daniel, it's all right. You're safe. We're in the garden." Her eyes were wide with concern, but calm, so calm. "You're safe," she whispered again, her voice trembling just slightly. "We're in the garden. There's no danger here."

The realization hit him like a blow to the chest. They were not in danger. The war wasn't here. He wasn't on a battlefield—he was in the gardens of Blackwood Manor. And Eliza … she wasn't an innocent bystander caught in crossfire. She was his fiancée, the woman he cared for deeply, who was now lying beneath him because of his uncontrollable reaction.

What had he done? He'd hurt her—he'd dragged her into the very darkness he had tried to protect her from. He pulled away quickly, sitting next to her, his heart still pounding. He reached out a hand to help her sit up, and she took it, though her fingers trembled slightly.

Daniel's heart sank. "Eliza, are you all right?" he rasped.

She nodded, her hands reached up to hold to his face again, her touch gentle and forgiving. "I'm fine," she whispered, though her gaze was filled with concern. "Are you?"

He stood, offering her a hand to help her to her feet, but the distance between them suddenly felt like a chasm. The familiar warmth and closeness that had always been a comfort to him now felt like a dangerous liability. How could he protect her when he couldn't even control his own mind?

"I'm sorry." He backed away, running a hand through his hair, guilt twisting his stomach. "I—" His voice caught in his throat. He couldn't look at her. He couldn't bear to see the worry in her eyes, the way she tried to make everything better. "This … this isn't right."

"What do you mean?" Eliza stepped forward, her hands reaching out for him. "Daniel, it's all right—" Eliza began, but he cut her off, the words spilling from him in a rush.

"No, Eliza." He stepped back, his chest tightening with the weight of his own inadequacies. "This isn't something you can fix. This … this thing inside me—it's not gone. I thought—" He swallowed hard, trying to steady his voice. "I thought I was better. But I'm not. I'm not."

Her brow furrowed, her eyes soft and searching. "You are better, Daniel. This doesn't change anything."

"It changes everything!" he snapped, immediately regretting the harshness in his tone. "I thought I could move past it, but … what just happened proves that I can't. I'm still … broken." His voice broke on the last word, and he looked away, unable to meet her eyes.

"That's not true."

"You saw it just now—I can't even control myself. I hurt you."

She shook her head, tears brimming in her eyes. "You didn't hurt me, Daniel. You were frightened. I understand—"

"No, you don't." The words came out harsher than he intended, and he immediately regretted them. "You shouldn't have to understand. You shouldn't have to deal with this."

"But I want to," she said softly, stepping closer. "I'm not afraid, Daniel. I want to help you through this."

Her words, so kind and so selfless, cut through him. He shook his head, unable to let her do it. "No, Eliza. This is not something you can fix. I can't drag you into this with me. You deserve better. Someone whole. Someone who won't … who won't pull you into this darkness with him." His throat tightened, his chest aching with every word. "I can't do this to you. I can't ask you to live with this. With me."

"Daniel," she pleaded, stepping forward, her hand reaching out, but he pulled back again. "I want you."

Her eyes were filled with tears, and it took everything in him not to reach out and wipe them away, to hold her close and promise her everything he could never give.

He swallowed hard, the tightness in his chest making it difficult to breathe. He wanted her, too—more than anything. But he couldn't. Not like this. Not when he was still haunted by ghosts from his past.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, the words heavy with the weight of his decision. "But this won't work."

Before she could respond, before he could change his mind, Daniel turned and walked away. His heart shattered with every step. The weight of his past—of his brokenness—was too much to bear, and he couldn't ask Eliza to carry it with him.

He had to protect her.

Even if it meant losing her forever.