Sacrificed & Reclaimed - the Soldier's Daring Widow Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  About the Book

  Prologue

  Chapter One − Broken

  Chapter Two − A New Beginning

  Chapter Three − Returning Home

  Chapter Four − A Ghost Come Home

  Chapter Five − Behind a Name

  Chapter Six − Alive

  Chapter Seven − Remnants of an Old Life

  Chapter Eight − A Walk

  Chapter Nine − The Need to be Strong

  Chapter Ten − One Night

  Chapter Eleven − The Reason Within

  Chapter Twelve − At a Crossroad

  Chapter Thirteen − To Fall & Rise

  Epilogue

  About Bree

  Also By Bree

  Dear Reader,

  Read a Sneak-Peek of

  Prologue

  Overview Love's Second Chance Series

  Love's Second Chance Series 1 - 10

  Box Sets

  Bree's Belles of the Ball

  Sacrificed & Reclaimed

  The Soldier’s Daring Widow

  (#8 Love’s Second Chance Series)

  by Bree Wolf

  Sacrificed & Reclaimed − The Soldier’s Daring Widow

  by Bree Wolf

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, brands, media, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner.

  Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover Art by Victoria Cooper

  Copyright © 2018 Sabrina Wolf

  www.breewolf.com

  All Rights Reserved

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  To my Devoted Readers

  Christa Cox-Watanabe

  Debbie Clatterbuck

  Melissa Joy Herrin

  Pamela Dobbins

  Ruth Ann Campbell

  May You Never Leave Me

  Acknowledgements

  Publishing a book is a team effort, unparalleled in this world. So many people invest their time and heart into this project to see it listed. My thank-you to all of you who've helped with feedback, typo detection, character and plot development, editing, formatting, cover creation, and the biggie…spreading the word…so that countless readers can now enjoy these stories of love's second chance.

  I owe you all so much!

  Thank you!

  About the Book

  A grieving widow. A tortured hero. And a fateful love.

  EDWARD DUNNING had it all: a beautiful home, two adorable children and a wife who was his other half. Only he wanted more. He wanted more than an ordinary life. So he went to war.

  And did not return.

  In the blink of an eye, MEAGAN DUNNING lost her husband, her future, her dreams. Until, in the very moment when she found her way back into life, her husband − presumed dead for over two years − shows up on her doorstep unexpectedly.

  Broken by the horrors of war, Edward is a far cry from the man Meagan lost her heart to. Still, fierce love never dies, and Meagan is more than willing to battle the darkness in her husband’s soul to reclaim his heart.

  Will Meagan succeed? Or has Edward given up hope long ago?

  Prologue

  England, Autumn 1805 (or a variation thereof)

  As she climbed the small slope north of the village she had grown up in, Meagan Dunning felt as though each agonising step took her further away from the life she had loved. Dragging her feet, she forced herself onward until she reached the top, a small mount, which overlooked the tiny village.

  Gazing down at the handful of homes clustered around a market square, Meagan could not help but remember the many times she had come up here with her husband. How often had they stood like this, in this very spot, and gazed down at the sleepy village? How often had they spoken of a future spent away from here, out in the world? How often had she looked at him and believed that−like her−he was merely daydreaming?

  At least, until the day he had enlisted.

  Before Meagan knew what was happening, her husband shipped out, following a call she could not understand. And yet, she had seen the sense of adventure in his eyes that had always been there when they had spoken of a different future. A future different from that of their parents, living and dying in the same small village, never to see anything farther away than a few miles.

  Now, her husband was dead.

  Closing her eyes, Meagan inhaled a deep breath, willing her tears away. After all, she had already cried a lifetime’s worth of tears upon learning the news. Was there any use in weeping day in and day out? Would it do her any good? Did she not have two small children to think of?

  Unbidden, a sob tore from Meagan’s throat at the thought of her now fatherless children. Never would Matthew ride on his father’s shoulders again. Never would little Erin be cooed to sleep by the sound of his voice. Would she even remember him? After all, she had only been a babe.

  Wiping a sleeve over her eyes, Meagan refocused her gaze onto the small houses down in the valley, her gaze gliding from one to the other. How often had she spotted her husband walking toward her from up here as she sat in the grass, holding her little daughter, her son playing beside her?

  Two years had passed since then.

  And yet, it seemed like yesterday.

  Her heart still ached whenever she thought of her husband. Tears would sting her eyes, and sobs rose in her throat, and her heart would hurt in a way that she sometimes believed it must surely break in half.

  But it did not.

  The wound was not fatal. It pained her every day, but she continued, doomed to live the life that had been theirs by herself.

  Meagan shook her head. No, that was not true. She was not alone. She had her children, and she could not deny that they brought her much joy. However, no matter what they did −having supper, playing in the fields or whispering to each other at nighttime− she always felt her husband’s absence. As though his loss had torn a hole into her life that was simply always there.

  Always reminding her of what she had lost.

  Of what could have been…if he had stayed.

  “Meagan!”

  At the sound of his voice, her heart froze, and her inner eye conjured an image of her smiling husband, his eyes aglow with mischief as he chased her through the tall-stemmed grass.

  Although her mind knew that it could not be, Meagan had come to realise that her heart had not yet fully accepted the loss of her other half. Often, she found herself waking from dreams that seemed so real that she reached out a hand across the pillow expecting to find her husband beside her. Only when the dream slowly faded away did reality reclaim her, bringing with it excruciating pain that spread through her entire being.

  Closing her eyes for but a moment, Meagan took a deep breath before turning to face reality once more. As expected, it was not Edward, not her husband, who came walking toward her, but his best friend Derek McKnight.

  And still, her heart ached at having its hopes disappointed once more.

  “I’ve been looking for you,” Derek addressed her, his long legs carrying him closer as he watched her through slightly narrowed eyes. Although they had never been close−he had merely been her husband’s best friend−she could tell that he was concerned for her, for his best friend’s wife.

&n
bsp; No, not wife.

  Widow.

  Meagan swallowed. “I needed…some time to think.”

  As he came to stand before her, his dark gaze held hers, searching. Then he nodded. “I understand,” was all he said, and from the look in his eyes, Meagan knew it to be true.

  Derek McKnight, a farmer’s son, had always possessed the ability to read those around him. Nothing and no one could hide from his scrutinising gaze, and it had been that sharp-mindedness that had guided him through the war unscathed.

  Unlike Edward, Derek had found glory and triumph in his deeds and had even been awarded the title of a baron and given his own estate. Now, he was Lord Ainsworth.

  And yet, he was here, staying true to the promise he had made her husband.

  To look after her.

  When Derek had returned, Meagan had not been able to help herself to gaze past his shoulder, her eyes immediately searching for her husband. They had always been close, and it had seemed natural that Edward would be by Derek’s side. Had it not always been thus?

  “I need your answer,” Derek reminded her, his shoulders tense as he waited.

  Meagan knew she ought to accept his offer. And yet, she hesitated.

  Once more she turned to the small village at her feet, her eyes seeking out the small home she had shared with her husband. “I don’t know if I can,” she spoke as a soft breeze brushed over her cheeks, carrying her words into the world. “This place holds all our memories. If I leave it, what do I have left?”

  Behind her, Derek drew in a slow breath. “He will never leave you, no matter where you are. His memory is not tied to a place, but to you and your children.”

  Meagan nodded. “Ye’re right, and still, I feel as though I’d betray him by leavin’.” She turned to face Derek, fresh tears streaming down her face. “My mind knows that he’s dead. But my heart still has hope. What am I to do?”

  “Think of your children.”

  Shifting her gaze, Meagan looked over Derek’s shoulder at his mother’s kind face. With sure steps, Bessy approached them, Meagan’s children, Matthew and Erin, trailing in her wake.

  “Mama!” her daughter squealed and threw herself into Meagan’s arms.

  Hugging her tightly, Meagan smiled at her son, his dark brown eyes so much like his father’s.

  “Your husband,” Bessy began, her kind eyes holding Meagan’s, “was very dear to me.” Nodding, she smiled, but it was a smile full of sadness and sorrow. “I know that ye don’t have any family left here, but I…,” she glanced at her son, “we want ye to know that we will always be here for ye and your children. Come with us. We will look after ye if ye let us. I promise that ye and your children will never be alone.”

  Touched, Meagan sighed, feeling her daughter snuggle into her shoulder as her son came to stand beside her, slipping his little hand into hers. “Thank ye,” she whispered before turning her gaze to Derek. “We shall go with ye then.”

  The corners of his mouth twitched, but he did not say a word. Instead, he turned to Matthew and drew the boy away as his mother stepped forward to take Erin from Meagan’s arms.

  As she watched them walk down the hill, Meagan once more turned to face the small village. “Goodbye,” she whispered as tears streamed down her face. “I shall never forget ye. I promise to carry ye with me wherever I go.”

  Then she turned and followed the others toward a new life.

  A life without her husband.

  Chapter One − Broken

  On the Continent, Autumn 1806

  One Year Later

  Sitting on a high cliff top overlooking the ocean, Edward Dunning stared at the distant horizon before his gaze once more shifted and he glanced down at the rolling waves as they crashed against the hard rock beneath.

  Every morning, he climbed the steep slope to the top, leaning heavily on his cane as he forced his legs to move. Although his right leg did as he wanted, his left leg was more a hindrance than a help.

  Injured on the battlefield, Edward had lost consciousness and been left for dead. At least two days had passed before he had awoken, only to find himself in a field surrounded by the bodies of his fallen comrades, the smell of blood and death assaulting his senses.

  With his left knee shattered beyond repair, he had dragged himself off the field. His strength had begun to dwindle with the effort it had taken him to not give himself over to despair. At some point, he had passed out again.

  When he had opened his eyes once more, he had found himself inside stone walls, tugged into the comfort of a bed. Gazing around, Edward had taken note of the scarce furnishings, the heavy wooden cross on the wall and the distant sound of ringing bells.

  A convent.

  Closing his eyes, Edward had sunk back into the pillow, relieved not to have been taken prisoner. Someone had to have found him and taken pity on him, bringing him here.

  Thus, had begun his long journey back to health.

  Or at least as far as that was possible.

  For although the wound on his leg had been cleaned and neatly wrapped in bandages, there had been nothing anyone could have done about his shattered knee. He would never be able to bend it again, doomed to walk with a cane for the rest of his life, moving his stiff leg forward in a half-circle so as not to upend his balance.

  As he sat on the cliff top, Edward shifted his gaze down to his left leg as it rested before him, stretched out as though seeking to trip anyone who dared to approach him. For the thousandth time, he shook his head as though in disbelief, unable to make his peace with the past.

  And yet, Edward knew that he deserved it.

  Even before that fateful day, he had come to realise that his dreams and hopes had been a mere folly. Triumph and glory were not to be found on a battlefield. Only blood and death. There was no life, no adventure. Only horror and loss.

  Looking at his leg, Edward knew that he had carelessly thrown away the life he had had, not realising at the time how fortunate he had been.

  Now, he knew.

  Now, it was too late.

  His leg served as a constant reminder of his mistake as well as its consequences.

  Once more, Edward glanced over the edge of the cliff top, wondering when the day would come that he would find the courage to end his miserable existence. He knew he ought to. He knew there was nothing left for him. And so, he walked up the steep slope to the top every morning, praying that today would be the day that would end all the pain, all the suffering.

  And yet, every night, he found himself walking back down.

  Again, Edward closed his eyes, only to see his wife’s beautiful face floating before him. “Meagan,” he whispered as he reached out a hand to trace the line of her jaw, her blue eyes shining brighter than her golden hair. Never had she seemed more like an angel than she did then and there.

  An angel that was out of his reach as his hands grasped at nothing.

  Edward sighed. He had had it all.

  A beautiful wife, two wonderful children and a comfortable home.

  A peaceful life.

  And what had he done? He had thrown it all away for the distant notion of adventure, of glory, of…

  He could not even say anymore.

  All Edward remembered was the desperate desire not to end like his father, like so many of his neighbours, doomed to live an uneventful life, living and dying in the same small village all their lives. He remembered that he did not want to be merely ordinary, one of many, indistinguishable in the crowd. He remembered that back then he could not think of a worse fate than spending his days in his home village.

  Now, Edward knew that it had been heaven on earth, for now he knew what hell felt like, and he could not help but wish that he had known then.

  Once more, his thoughts turned to his family. More than three years had passed since he had left, since he had last seen them. More than two years had passed since he had been left for dead.

  More than once, Edward had tried to picture the moment his wife
had been told of his death. He had imagined tears running down her cheeks as she had sunk down, her gaze staring into the distance, unseeing, as disbelief claimed her mind and heart.

  Had she mourned him? Of course, she had. After all, they had been in love for the better part of their lives. But for how long?

  How had she continued without him? And with two small children no less?

  Edward cringed at the thought, and once more guilt rose as he remembered that he had not thought of what would happen if he were not to return from his adventure. How could he have been so selfish? So foolish?

  Listening to the waves crash against the rock, Edward wondered for the thousandth time if his wife was even still his wife. Had she remarried? Did their children have a new father now? One who would put their well-being before his own foolish dreams?

  Edward knew that after everything he had done, he ought to wish her a happy life with a man who loved her unconditionally by her side.

  But he could not as he still thought of her as his, even though he knew she was not. He had given up his claim on her long ago.

  Pushing himself off the rock he had been sitting on since that morning, Edward stumbled toward the cliff face, dragging his left leg behind him. His heart thudded in his chest, and he felt the cold wind attack his skin, the promise of winter on its wings. Leaning forward, he gazed down into the churning water, a wet grave.

  Inhaling deeply, Edward leaned forward more and more until he reached the point where his balance became unhinged. Instantly, he shrank back, wondering what kept him from ending it all.

  Again, his wife’s face appeared before his inner eye, and Edward realised that he would never be ready to depart this world without knowing that his family was all right.

  Stepping back, he took a deep breath as his resolve strengthened. He would go home. He would see with his own eyes that his family was fine, that they were better off without him. And then he would return to this spot…and hopefully find peace.