“I dinna think there is such a thing as a good murderer.”
Sterling’s brow furrowed. “You’re probably right about that.” He held out the flask. “Fancy a nip of gin?”
“As I dinna make a habit of drinking horse shite and then riding, I’ll pass.”
“More for me, then.” Sterling drank the rest, grimaced, and slipped the empty flask back into his pocket. “Itishorse shite, but Brynne locked away the brandy and this was all I could buy off a groom. Where are you riding off to? Back to Scotland, I presume?”
Lachlan gave a brusque nod and rose from the mounting block to gather Aislyn’s reins. “Aye. So if ye wouldna mind stepping aside–”
“I take it your wife isn’t accompanying you.”
“No,” he said shortly. “She isna.”
“Shame, that.”
“Aye.”
“But,” said Sterling, taking up the entire aisle as he casually stretched his arms out to the side, “isn’t there something that can be done?”
“Bluidy hell, man! Canna ye not just get out of the way?” Lachlan knew he shouldn’t have spoken to a duke in such a manner, but Sterling was pressing on his last remaining nerve. It tingled right beneath his skin; a tiny boulder suppressing a flood of emotions that he preferred to release in the solitude of his own company.
“When I lost the person that I loved, I’d have done anything to get them back.Anything.Except I couldn’t, because death is as permanent an ending as this cruel world provides us. You could still have Brynne, if you wanted. Instead, you’re just riding away. Damned cowardly of you, if you want my opinion.”
“I dinna recall asking for it,” Lachlan said bluntly. “I’m sorry ye lost yer mistress, Yer Grace. I am. But a paramour isna a wife. It’s more…complicated than that.”
“Love is love.” Sterling shrugged. “Heartbreak is heartbreak. Do you think that just because I smile more than you I’m any happier?”
For the first time, Lachlan looked at the duke. Really looked. And he saw the dark shadows beneath his eyes from not enough sleep. The flaky paleness of his skin from remaining indoors. The layer of bloat under his chin that came from excess drink. “No, I suppose not.”
“I cannot do a damned thing to change my circumstance, Campbell. Butyoucan.”
His jaw clenched. “She doesna want me. She’s made that abundantly clear.”
“Then do what all gentlemen of all species have done since the beginning of time when a woman they desired cannot be bothered to give them the time of day.”
“And what’s that?”
Sterling rolled his eyes. “Courther. Flowers, poems, the whole lot. Unless you’ve tried that already?”
Court Brynne?
The idea had never crossed his mind.
Maybe because, as she herself had said in the gazebo, therewasa part of him that had always known that she would marry him. He’d expected her to say yes because that was what he wanted her to do. He’d taken her for granted. And in doing so, he had treated her no differently than anyone else had her entire life.
“I gave her a barley stick once, when we were children.”
“A barley stick. Abarley stick.” Sterling clapped a hand to his forehead. “Do you know what Eloise would have done if I’d presented her with a barley stick? She’d have shoved it up my–”
“I get the idea,” Lachlan interrupted beforethatmental picture could be painted in his head for all of eternity. “So ye’re saying I should do what all of ye English blokes do and buy me wife’s love with expensive gifts and flashy baubles?”
“I’m saying you put in the effort, you get the reward. That’s how it works. And a pretty necklace never hurt anything. The Season is under way. Plenty of balls and soirees and opportunities to impress.” The feigned lightness dissolved from Sterling’s countenance, leaving him hard, and hollow, and haunted. “Love your wife, Campbell. Love her with everything you have. Because you never know when she’ll be taken from you. And what you feel now is nothing–nothing–compared to what you’ll feel then. If I could have a minute back…hell, a second, I’d grab it in a bloody heartbeat.”
Sobering words from an unsober man.
Lachlan led his horse past the duke and, this time, Sterling stepped aside.
“Where can I reach you for that bottle of whisky?” he called out as Lachlan placed his foot in the stirrup and swung into the saddle.
