“Can you explain it to me, then? Please?” Although she couldn’t imagine anything that would be convincing enough to make a rational person believe such a fatalistic concept.
He closed his eyes, his foot jumping again.
“I am the youngest of three boys. First born, was Abron. Three years later, my mother gave birth to Calvin, and then when Calvin was four, I came along. None of us ever fell ill. Each of us grew to be over six feet tall, and it was a family joke that I was the scrawniest of the Masterson brothers.”
At these words, Lillian rose her brows questioningly. Although he was not a hulking beast of a man, Christian was anything but scrawny. His shoulders were broad, and the muscles everywhere else, sinewy and apparent. She ought to know, she’d spent enough time over the past week ogling the strength of his thighs, wrapping her legs around them.
Her gaze settled on those very same thighs.
But she could not allow herself to be distracted.
“Go on.”
He exhaled loudly. “Our neighbors, and many of the people who lived in the nearby village invented something of a legend that the Duke of Warwick would never lack an heir. The succession had been secured, let the devil do his best to thwart it. I failed to see the arrogance of such boastfulness, initially. In fact, I quite believed the nonsense myself.”
Lillian dropped her hand onto his leg and the shaking stopped.
“And then came the day my father had to go to London to attend to Parliamentary business. He’d done this before but on this particular occasion decided to take along both of my brothers, Abron was seventeen at the time, and Calvin fourteen. I was told I was too young. It was up to me to watch out for my mother and sister. In addition to that, bringing me along would have been a waste of time, as I would never be called upon to perform ducal duties.”
Christian shook his head and frowned, almost as though he was confounded by the memory.
“You were ten at the time?” He’d been very young, and Lillian feared where this story might be going.
“As they drove away, I told them that they would be sorry when they all died and I was the only one left. They would be sorry that they never saw fit to bring me along.” He stared at the other wall of the carriage then, unseeing. “The horses spooked not a mile down the road and the carriage overturned, killing my father instantly.”
Lillian squeezed his knee but said nothing.
“Abron took over the title then, but I never forget my pettiness, my selfishness—the last words I‘d spoken to my father. Abron managed the estates and Calvin went off to school. My mother died two years later. I rather believe she suffered from a broken heart.” He ran a hand through his hair and made a sound of self–disgust. “But you did not ask to hear my life story.”
“Tell me.” Lillian wanted to know everything about him. She hadn’t realized it until that moment. What had made him into the person that she’d married, hardly knowing him at all?
But most importantly, right now, why did he believe he must die?
“Abron was not only an adequate duke; he was an astute businessman. He invested in shipping. I think he enjoyed that aspect far greater than the agricultural side of running a dukedom. He became quite involved, in fact, but then died when one of the ships we owned went down in the channel.”
“That’s when you found Horace.” He had told her that story.
“And so, then it was Calvin’s turn to take the reins. Calvin…” Again, he shook his head. “Calvin cultivated his fondness for women and spirits far more than he ever did for the title—or for our family, it seemed. He scoffed at me when I reminded him of his responsibilities, to not only the estates, but to Bernadette—God, even to myself. I wasn’t prepared to take any of this on, but by this point, I’d begun to believe God was simply having fun with us now. Or the devil—I don’t suppose it matters.”
Lillian’s eyes began to burn with tears for the second time that day. She could endeavor all she wished to convince her husband that his family only suffered from some bad luck and tragic coincidences, but his eyes blazed with certainty.
“And then Calvin died two months ago,” Lillian supplied.
Christian nodded. “I am next.”
“The boar.” She exhaled. He had withdrawn from her after that. In hindsight, she realized, it must have been a reminder of his fears—of his belief.
“Was a close call.” He stared at her with apologetic eyes.
“You saved me. You saved us.”
HIs jaw ticked, almost as though he was bracing himself for her disbelief.
What did this mean for them?
She’d thoughthe was suffering from some fatal disease! What a fool he was! He’d been so delighted at her easy acquiescence that he’d not questioned how easily she’d accepted that which everyone else dismissed. Instead of attempting to talk him out of his fears, she’d eagerly stepped up to assist him in finding a solution. He’d thought she’d seen something in him that everyone else had failed to find.
He’d thought she believed him. Hell, he’d thought they could even come to care for one another. Being with her had caused him to forget his destiny, if only briefly. He would chastise himself a thousand times for being such a fool.
