He pressed his cheek against Kensworth's mane for a moment, savoring the warmth. The action was boyish, undignified for a duke, but there was no one to witness this small comfort. The rising sun gilded the fields stretching before him, promising a fair day—a good omen, perhaps, for a man setting out to claim his bride.
His bride. June with her amber eyes and quick tongue. June who challenged him, provoked him, saw through the careful facade he presented to the world. June who had kissed him back with unexpected passion, matching his desire with her own.
And what of her agreement to this marriage? Had she consented merely to avoid scandal, or had there been something more in her whispered "yes"? He had seen confusion in her eyes when August spoke of his impending death, had watched questions form and die on her lips. Yet she had agreed nonetheless, stepping blindly into a future with a man who might leave her far too soon.
He would need to tell her eventually, of course. Not everything—not the terror that sometimes gripped him in the night, not the counting of heartbeats that had become a habit he couldn't break—but enough that she understood what she was accepting. Enough that when the inevitable happened, she would not be entirely unprepared.
But not yet. Not until the ring was on her finger and the words spoken that would make her his. Selfish, perhaps, but Dominic had spent his entire adult life preparing for an early death. Surely he was entitled to this one selfishness—the chance to know, even briefly, what it was to be June Vestiere's husband.
Kensworth's stride lengthened as they crested a small hill, the road to London stretching before them like a promise. Dominic tightened his cloak against the morning chill and set his jaw toward the rising sun. Whatever came, he would face it for June's sake—even if it cost him everything.
The license would be obtained today, the marriage performed as soon as possible. There would be gossip, of course—speculation about the hasty ceremony, whispers about why the Duke of Ice had finally been caught in matrimony's snare. Let them talk. None of it mattered now.
All that mattered was June, and the precious time they might have together.
His heart gave that now-familiar stutter in his chest—a momentary pause followed by a too-rapid series of beats that left him slightly breathless. Dominic closed his eyes briefly, forcing himself to breathe deeply until the rhythm steadied again. These episodes were coming more frequently, each one a reminder of the clock ticking down.
Not now,he pleaded silently to whatever power might be listening.Not when I've just found her.
The image of June's face filled his mind—not as she had looked last night in her crimson dress, nor in the moonlight when he'd kissed her, but as she had appeared that first day in the library years ago. Young, serious, her amber eyes too large for her face, her mind too vast for the limited role society had assigned her. He had been a fool not to recognize her worth then.
He would not make the same mistake twice. Whatever time remained to him—be it months or years—would be devoted to knowing her, cherishing her, ensuring that when he was gone, she would have memories worth keeping.
The stable yard fell silent behind him as Kensworth carried him forward, each hoofbeat marking the passing of seconds he could no longer afford to waste. His future—however brief—awaited, and for the first time in years, Dominic found himself eager to meet it.
Perhaps, if he was to die, it would be appropriate to enjoy what little time he had left with her, if she wanted to.
Dominic wondered if she truly wanted him.
Nineteen
June fled up the stairs, her crimson skirts clutched in white-knuckled fists. Her lungs burned as if she'd been running for miles rather than merely escaping the moonlit room where her entire future had just been decided in the space of moments.
Behind her, the muffled voices of August and Dominic continued their tense exchange, but she couldn't bear to hear another word.
She reached her bedchamber and shut the door, leaning against it as if barricading herself from the night's events. Her hands trembled so violently she could scarcely turn the key in the lock. When it finally clicked into place, she slid down to the floor, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird seeking escape.
"What just happened?" she whispered to the empty room.
The question hung in the air, unanswered and perhaps unanswerable. One moment she had been dancing with Dominic in the moonlight, experiencing the first real kiss of her life, and the next—betrothed. Forced into an engagement neither of them had sought.
Well, she had sought it, hadn't she? In those private, foolish dreams she'd never quite abandoned. But not like this. Never like this.
June pushed herself up from the floor and moved to her bed on unsteady legs. She sank onto the edge, her mind racing with questions that crowded and jostled for precedence. But one echoed louder than all others.
"You'll be dead soon. What have you to lose?"
August's words to Dominic repeated in her mind, each syllable striking like a physical blow. What did he mean? How could he possibly know such a thing? And why did Dominic not deny it?
She pressed her palms against her eyes, trying to make sense of it all. There had been rumors, of course—whispers about the Duke of Icemere's father dying young, and his grandfather before him. But June had dismissed them as the kind of dramatic gossip society ladies invented to make a notorious bachelor seem even more mysterious.
Yet August had spoken with such certainty. And Dominic's response—or rather, his lack of one—suggested an awful truth behind the words.
I am to marry a man who believes he will die soon?
The realization settled over her like a shroud. Her hands fell limply into her lap as she stared at the wall, seeing nothing.
This was not how June had imagined her engagement would unfold. In her girlhood fantasies—ridiculous as they seemed now—Dominic had pursued her, had chosen her above all others because he couldn't imagine his life without her. In reality, he had been trapped into marriage by circumstance and her brother's insistence on propriety.
