“I do love her,” he interrupted, the confession torn from him. “Of course I love her. What man could not fall in love with her? She is bold and beautiful, witty and wonderful. She is fearless and determined. I stand in awe of her. She is my better in every bloody fashion I can fathom. I do not deserve her.”
“Of course you don’t deserve her, you miserable horse’s arse.” Harry’s mouth tightened into a thin, forbidding line. “You need to earn her. Bo is not like anyone else. She is a law unto herself. Cease looking at me as if you wish to poison my tea. I have accepted your marriage. You are my brother, and I love you enough to wish you happy. I am sick to death of watching you eke out an existence, cold and aloof, trapped in the misery of the misfortune that befell you in the past.”
He didn’t wish to poison Harry’s tea. But he did want to make certain that his brother never again entertained a single, lascivious thought regarding her. That privilege was solely his.
If she would still have him.
If she had not left him.
If he had not mucked up his marriage so badly after a fortnight that Boadicea would never wish to see or speak to him again. Not that he would blame her. His harridan of a mother had smothered her in fish, and he had been too cowardly to even appear at dinner so that Boadicea had a champion on her side.
They had spent their honeymoon making love, losing themselves in each other, forgetting about anything and everything other than Spencer and Boadicea, husband and wife. Only for him to return and promptly revert to what was safe: distance, chill, not allowing anyone past his sky-high battlements. He had closed her out. What choice had she other than acceptance?
“I love her so bloody much I ache with it. She is all I can think about, all I want, everything I need.” Once he uttered it aloud, he felt as if a great weight had been lifted from his chest.
“Then go to her,” Harry advised quietly. “Tell her. She needs to know. You both deserve to be happy.”
Spencer stared at his younger brother, thinking it odd indeed that he should be receiving advice from him. Love and marital advice, when Harry had yet to be married and Spencer had entered the institution twice. Once out of obligation and once out of necessity.
But it had not been mere necessity, had it? He could never qualify what he had shared with Boadicea using such a bloodless word. Though he had compromised her and it had sparked the wheels of their marriage into motion, in truth, he had begun falling in love with her that first day. She had been so stubborn, demanding the return of her book. Defiant at every turn. And how she had kissed him…
The memory of that kiss alone still set him aflame.
Still, it was not enough. He could not be enough. He could win her back to his side now, but to what end? He did not dare to hope.
“I cannot give her what she wants,” he revealed to Harry. He felt as if he had stripped part of himself away, holding it up for his brother’s inspection. He felt ill. “After what happened with Millicent…she went mad because she lost our child, Harry. Something happened to her mind, and she was never the same. She killed herself in front of me. She almost shot me instead, but some odd quirk in her unhinged mind decided to turn the pistol against her own temple at the last moment.”
His brother gripped his shoulders. “Jesus Christ, Spencer. Why did you not tell me before now?”
“I never told anyone.” It was the truth. The aftermath of Millicent’s death had been a whirlwind of shock, guilt, and grief. Initially, he had not told anyone the extent of her actions that day in an effort to protect her. As time had passed, he had attempted to move forward. Revealing what she had done had seemed to serve no purpose. She was dead. He was not. He alone would bear the scars of her actions.
But now, for the first time, he realized that he wasn’t the only one bearing the scars if he perpetuated them upon those he loved.
“You should have bloody well told me,” Harry said. “I would have wanted to know. Idowant to know. Spencer, you are my brother. We may not always get on as well as we ought, but I am here for you.Letme be here for you.”
At long last, the burden of the past sprung forth, freeing him.
“Her intent was to kill me.” He said the words with calm detachment, and it was strange indeed to think he could now recount the events of that day in such an aloof manner. But he knew he needed to press onward. Some instinct deep within told him that he must make peace with the past if he ever hoped to have a future.
“Spencer.” Harry hauled him into a hug.
He returned his brother’s unexpected embrace. “Harry.”
They thumped each other on the back before stepping apart and clearing their throats. Their moment of connection had been achingly real, but it nevertheless left them feeling awkward as hell.
“Do you think Boadicea left me?” he asked then, because desperation had begun to tear him apart.
“I don’t know,” Harry said. “You need to find her. Tell her how you feel. And Spencer, whatever your fears are from the past, you cannot apply them to the future. No two situations are alike. Life is strange and wild and unpredictable. It takes us where we least want it and where we least expect it. Live your life for tomorrow rather than for yesterday.”
“Damn.” He frowned at his younger brother. “When the hell did you become so wise?”
Harry raised a brow. “I am not wise. I see what is before me, and I wish the people I care for to be happy.”
Spencer knew there was one way for him to be happy. It involved taking a great risk, the sort that left him with a frozen tongue and a fearful heart.
He had to find his wife, and when he did, he would do away with any traces of the past. Moving forward scared the wits out of him, but even he could see that it was the best option for him. Thesoleoption.
He clasped his brother to him in another sudden hug. “Thank you, little brother. I do believe that this was the talk I needed.”
