He’d not expected to know such closeness as the two of them shared in bed. Nor the in-between moments. For days now, he’d analyzed the events of his life and tried to see them in a different light. He’d tried to rationalize with himself, convince himself that his beliefs were naught more than nonsense.
And yet, he still could not shake the belief that tragedy awaited him any day now.
Horace yawned and, apparently sensing they could be sitting here for some time, sprawled out on the rug and fell asleep.
Christian quietly knocked the back of his head against the wall he leaned against. Was it possible that he loved her? That he’d fallen in love with her in such a short time?
Summoning her image in his mind required no imagination. It was as though she’d come along to fulfill every dream he’d ever had for love. Her courage, her steadiness, her comforting presence… everything. He felt as though he’d waited a lifetime to meet her.
He slammed his head harder against the wall and then winced.
“Dare the devil!”Christian remembered a voice shouting when he and his father had stopped into the local village pub.“Ha Ha! Not one, not two, but three strapping sons.”His father had pounded him on the back proudly.
“You’ll be sorry after all of you have died!”Christian replayed the words he’d shouted in his mind… words that could never be unsaid.
“You’ll just die too then.”Ah, yes, Calvin had responded in kind as they’d driven away, the last day of their father’s life. The memory had plagued him for years now. Even pounding his head against the wall didn’t help. There were some things that could never be chased away.
The door to Bernadette’s chamber squeaked, causing Christian to slide his spectacles back onto his face to meet eyes the same blue as his peeking out. His little sister frowned when they landed on his sorry visage, but she did not retreat or slam the door again.
As Christian rose to his feet, he felt much older than his five and twenty years. Was this what marriage did to a man? No, this was what having a headstrong younger sister did to him.
And a wife. God help him, and a wife.
“You will allow me inside?” Remorse swept through him when he noticed that her face was tear streaked. Bernadette was not a girl who cried often or easily.
In answer, she pulled the door wide, allowing both he and Horace to enter. Before Christian could sit down, or even ask, she flung herself at him, sobbing. Instinctively his arms wound around her and squeezed.
How had Lillian known that she needed him? He wasn’t even sure himself what he had done.
“You are going to die!” Bernadette muttered against the fabric of his cravat. “You are going to leave me alone, and you won’t even talk to me about it! How could you, Christian? You are all I have left!”
He stilled but then hugged her even more tightly against him.
Thiswas what he’d done wrong.
He could not explain to her that he had no control over the future. There was nothing he could do to escape his fate. The fact that he was attempting to sire a son seemed even more ridiculous. What would he have said to Calvin, or to Abron, or his father or mother for that matter, if he’d known they would die soon?
He’d have begged them not to. He would have held onto them tightly and not allowed them to sail, or duel, or… do much of anything.
Wasn’t that exactly what he’d been doing to himself?
“You cannot leave me, Christian.” She sniffled as her sobs finally began to subside. “You cannot.”
“I won’t.” His voice caught as he made a promise he could not keep. “I’m sorry, Bernie.” He kissed her atop the head. “I didn’t realize you knew.”
“Of course, I knew! I heard the first night you brought it up, with Cornelius and Lord Middleton, the night of Calvin’s funeral.”
She had known for that long? “But how…?”
“I’m not a child,” she insisted. And then more ruefully, “I was hiding in the secret room, behind the bookshelf.”
Christian nodded. Of course, the two of them had hidden there together as children when Calvin and Abron told them to go away. He and Bernadette had spied on their older brothers on more than one occasion.
He’d greatly underestimated the ingenuity of his sister. In his own despair, he had left her in the care of her governess and to her own devices for too long.
“If you die, Christian, then I must die too! I don’t want either of us to die! I want to have a season next year. I want to marry one day. I want… so much more. Don’t you?”
Suddenly, his heart raced, and a thin sheen of perspiration broke out on his forehead and upper lip. The urge to tap his foot was strong but he abstained, knowing how much Bernadette hated it.
