Read Online The Sacred Shore by T. Davis Bunn - Free Book Online Page B

indignant. “They would not have dared!”
    Andrew smiled. “Dared and done, my brother. I deserved no less. I refused a direct order in time of war.”
    â€œTo what purpose?”
    â€œI refused to round up defenseless Frenchmen and women from homes they had occupied for over a century and send them off to fates unknown.” Andrew’s features showed the pain of those old wounds. “At least, I would have refused. But the Lord in His infinite mercy saw fit to rescue me in time.”
    Charles shifted in his chair, uncomfortable at the turn of the conversation. “You speak … well, differently.”
    â€œMy life is now God’s.” Andrew nodded. “Do you have it within you to forgive me, Charles?”
    â€œOf course, of course.” Charles recognized it as the opening he had hoped for, but for some reason found it difficult to press forward. He was unable to hold his brother’s frank gaze. “That is … well, I come asking for a favor of my own.”
    â€œA favor?” Andrew glanced over to the sunlit doorway, empty still of his wife and daughter. “A strange way to describe your request for my only child.”
    â€œYou heard, then.”
    â€œCatherine and Anne tried to tell me when I returned this morning. They both were distraught, but I think I understood what you wish.”
    â€œMy second wife died last autumn. She left me childless. I have no heir. You know as well as I that our father’s only brother died without children. Your daughter is my only living blood kin.”
    Suddenly Charles could remain seated no longer. He rose and began pacing the room’s confines. “I am desperate for an heir. Anne would lack for nothing. You know our land, our holdings, our wealth. There must be an heir to inherit—or it will all be lost. Lost for all time, Andrew. We Harrows cannot let that happen. We cannot.”
    â€œThere was a time when that thought would have disturbed me as much as it does you, but now …” Andrew paused, in deep thought. “It must have cost you dearly to make this journey.”
    â€œYou have no idea.” Charles’s pacing turned swifter still. “She would inherit everything. I would hire the finest tutors, present her at court, wed her to the noblest family. She could perhaps marry into the royal line, Andrew. Think of that! Your daughter wed to the court of St. James!”
    â€œI imagine,” Andrew replied mildly, “that Anne would have something to say about that herself.”
    â€œOf course she would. I’m not a barbarian. She would not be forced into some loveless union. I come seeking an heir, not chattel. It is not merely for my benefit. Think what it would mean to the girl.” Charles stopped in the middle of the room. When Andrew did not stir, Charles spun to face him. “I must have your answer, Andrew. I must.”
    â€œCome sit down, Charles.”
    Andrew’s calm riled Charles. “Don’t play games with me!” His hands clenched into fists. “I have to know!”
    Andrew rose. As he stepped forward, Charles had the sudden impression that his brother was breaching barriers formed over years, over oceans, over the world’s trappings. Andrew settled a hand on his brother’s shoulder. Charles flinched but did not move away.
    â€œCharles, listen to me. I know what you are thinking. I know you are seeking my permission to let Anne go with you. To allow her to leave her home and go to a strange land—filled with wealth and power, yes, but foreign all the same. But that is a decision that, thank God, I will not be forced to make.” After a long moment of silence, Andrew finally said, “Anne is not who you think.”
    â€œWhat are you saying?”
    â€œShe is my daughter—yes. But she is not of Harrow blood.”
    â€œAdopted? But I heard … the reports were that you had a child.”
    â€œI did. I