“I would have given anything to save you from our father’s cruelty.” His voice hoarse in Tristan’s ear. “It breaks me tae know I caused ye so much suffering at his hands. Know this now, Tristan Gilbert. Ye shall always have a loving brother in myself.”
Tristan returned his brother’s tight, healing embrace.
Bloody hell.
This must be what philosophers calledcatharsis.
The relief of shedding a heavy burden carried for far too long.
Tristan stepped back, only to have Rafe stop him with a hand at the back of his neck.
“I know our father would never have said this, but I am proud of the man ye have become.” Rafe’s brown eyes glittered with tears. “And I’m doubly glad that ye married Isolde, regardless of the grim circumstances surrounding your marriage. No matter Andrew’s opinion, ye and Isolde are a perfect match.”
Isolde.
Tristan’s wife.
He managed a shuddering breath. “I love her, you know.”
Rafe nodded and stepped back. “Aye, it shines in your eyes every time ye look at her. ’Tis precisely how I look at my Sophie.”
“I’ve loved Isolde for nearly a decade,” Tristan confessed.
“Is that so?” A grin tugged at Rafe’s lips.
Tristan relayed the mishap in Montacute’s garden, Isolde mistaking him for John. “One look at her—one conversation—and I was lost. There has never been anyone else for me.”
“Aye, that is how it went with Sophie.” Rafe put his hands into his pockets. “I saw her at a ball, spoke with her for five minutes, and knew she would be my wife.”
“Truly?”
“We Gilbert men can be an obsessive lot when it comes to our women. It explains why our father married his first wife, Catherine. Old Kendall fell in love with her—or as close to love as that black-hearted bastard was capable—and pursued her until she capitulated. Of course, he was unable tae retain her affections and, in his arrogance, married my mother at our grandfather’s insistence.”
Tristan’s head tipped back in understanding. “Hence, from obsession, his bigamy was born.”
“Precisely.” Rafe clapped Tristan on the back. “I’d like to think you and I are more intelligent. We do the work necessary to retain our wives’ hearts.”
Yes.
But it all reminded Tristan of the purpose behind his foray into the library. Anxiety twisted in his stomach.
“Will Isolde ever forgive me, do you think?” he asked Rafe quietly.
“Aye, take courage, Brother,” Rafe smiled. “Isolde has a loving heart, like her father. Merely stay the course and be honest with her. If ye could forgive the painful repercussions of my own wrongs, I imagine she can forgive ye this.”
“Granted, it did take me twenty years.”
Rafe laughed. “Hopefully, Isolde will forgive ye a wee bit faster. After all, in the case of a wife, ye do have kisses as a means of persuasion. Though ye will likely have tae grovel.” He pushed Tristan toward the door. “Go. Speak with her. Trust in her love for ye.”
Tristan nodded, biting back a stab of pain.
Trust in her love for ye.
That was the very problem.
Isoldedidn’tlove him.
And now, heaven alone only knew if she ever would.
