ROMANCE: MAIL ORDER BRIDE: The Other Man’s Baby (A Clean Christian Historical Western) (New Adult Inspirational Pregnancy Romance) by Joyce Wright

sobered, then turned his head toward her again. “Just as I did in you.”
    She swallowed hard, warmth blossoming in her chest as only he was able to create. 
    “As far as courage, no, I have never had enough of that either—“
    “Why ever say that? You journeyed to America to aid our soldiers during the war. You saved me from many disadvantages as a child—“
    “Yes, but not the biggest disadvantage of all—marrying my brother.” He leaned forward,  grabbing her hands from her lap and holding them firmly. “I’ve thought back over it so many times, Agnes, how I should have fought him for you, fought to the death. At least, had I died, I wouldn’t have struggled as I have, missing you every day of my life.”
    Agnes gasped. His words were too fresh to be spoken to a married woman, too raw to be spoken to her. She closed her eyes briefly, squeezed his hands, then gently tugged hers away. She was a duchess.
    “You could no more take a life than my Richard could. You were born to save lives, not take them.” She met his gaze earnestly. “All things for a purpose. Had you remained here, there are lives in America that wouldn’t have been saved. British soldiers who returned home to their wives and children because you were there. Had you fought for me, even won me, that likely would not have been the case.” She smiled then. “Because I, dear Gilbert, am not as selfless as you are. I could not have born it if you’d left me behind.”
    His troubled face cleared. “Do you believe all that, Agnes?”
    She smiled. “I am a vicar’s daughter. Of course I believe it.” Even if she did not like it. Even if her heart was shattering in a million pieces just sitting this close to him and not being able to draw in close and snuggle into his warmth, wrap her arms around his neck, touch his lips with hers. She turned back to the window, sensing more than seeing the passing of greenery, of small forest groves, of time.
    #
    Gilbert cleared his throat roughly and turned around to the front of the carriage. “Lionel, are you still guided by the previous tracks?”
    “Yes, sir. But we’re coming upon a fork and I see more than one set. Do make a decision about which I should follow.”
    Not wanting to appear too knowledgeable, he hesitated before answering. “Take the right toward the village. If we find nothing, we will backtrack.”
    In the village, he jumped out at the tavern, telling Agnes he would enquire within. In truth, all he enquired over was the last time the duke had visited, which was that very night.
    As he approached the carriage again, he heard soft cries from within. Damn! After whispering their next stop to Lionel, he opened the carriage door. Before he could stop himself he climbed into the seat beside Agnes, and pulled her into his arms.
    She resisted at first, her body stiff and unyielding, her jaw tight as she attempted to contain her distress. But he whispered to her as he would an injured animal and rubbed her back until she relaxed into his arms and sobbed openly.
    “I’ve lost so much, Gilbert. My family…” She hesitated, then mumbled, “ You.” She cleared her throat and leaned back slightly so she could look at him. “I cannot live if I lose my son as well. He is everything good about us all. Everything.”
    “There, there, my dear. We have one more stop to make—to alert the constable in Richmond and then we’ll continue on to Edington. At the tavern, I learned  two strangers enquired about directions to some farmland east of there.”
    “Oh, Gilbert, do you think we’ll find him? Tonight?” She smiled, then wiped self-consciously at her face with a sodden handkerchief. He pulled his from his pocket and offered it.
    “Thank you,” She whispered. “I’m sorry for giving in to my fears. I am often not a good vicar’s daughter.” She closed her eyes and pulled away completely, pushing her head back against the seat.
    “Is that what your father told you?” He whispered.