“No, not in cold blood. He was a traitor…” There was another long pause. From the conflicting emotions on Lucian’s face, she knew he was debating how much to reveal to her.
“What happened?” she prodded gently.
He exhaled in a sigh. “Last spring… when I was in France searching for March… I uncovered a plot. My friend Giles was making deals with the French, selling secrets. Divulging the identity of our agents. When I confronted him, he begged me not to expose him.”
Lucian’s features twisted in anguish. “I couldn’t let him go free, not when several of our men had died because of his betrayal. Giles was like a cornered fox. He drew a rapier and attacked me… I managed to defend myself, but he… I killed him with his own blade.” Lucian looked down at his hands. “I keep seeing his blood on my hands,” he said in a voice so low, it was almost a whisper.
He lay back, shutting his eyes. Brynn could see the pain etched in his face. She ached to offer him comfort, to soothe the darkness and despair he had let her glimpse.
Reaching out tentatively, she touched his curling hair, feeling the sleek, silky texture beneath her fingertips. To her startlement, Lucian reached out and dragged her down to him, holding her against his body so tightly that his heartbeat shivered through her.
For a long moment, Brynn remained frozen in his desperate embrace. She might have consoled a child similarly, only she didn’t feel in the least motherly. The heat of Lucian’s hard body was arousing, the intimate pressure making her breath catch. She wanted to pull away, and yet he needed the comfort she could give. After a moment she let her arms slide around him. He responded by burying his face in her throat, as if in despair.
She reluctantly held him that way for a long while, a storm of emotion quietly roiling inside her.
“You’re horrified,” he murmured.
“No… No,” she answered more firmly. “You had no choice.”
“True.” She felt Lucian’s fury in that single uttered word. “Giles left me no choice. Just as he felt he had no choice. He was being blackmailed for his… sexual propensities. To hide his shame, he let himself be drawn into a far worse crime.”
“Treason.”
Lucian let out his breath in a hoarse sigh. “There is someone preying on young bucks of the ton-a nobleman, most likely-luring them to betray their country either through bribery or blackmail. What I wouldn’t give to bring him to justice…”
She felt Lucian’s hand clench in her hair. “So Giles was driven to desperation?”
“Yes. In the end, he was down on his knees to me, sobbing. When he charged, I was caught off guard. Even now I’m not certain if he truly wanted to kill me or if he wanted me to end his torment. I concealed his treachery from the world, for what it’s worth. I put about the tale that he had died on the road, set upon by bandits. But I wish to God the result could have been different.”
“You cannot blame yourself, Lucian,” she said quietly.
He gave a muffled, humorless laugh. “Logically I know that. But my nightmares don’t seem to understand logic.” He paused. “Sometimes I see my own death.”
“Your death?”
She felt him shudder. “My hands are covered with Giles’s blood, and then it becomes my own blood. I’m dying. I deserve to die, because I killed him.”
“ Lucian… you had no choice. You have to forgive yourself.”
“Believe me, I’ve tried…” His voice lowered to a hoarse rasp. “I never expected my brush with death to affect me so deeply, but it changed me somehow… I suppose because for the first time I realized that I was actually mortal. I see myself dying, with nothing to show for having lived. No legacy. No heirs.”
Brynn felt her breath catch as she finally understood. “That is why you want a son so badly.”
He drew back, capturing her gaze with his dark, intense one. “Yes. I would like to leave something behind, so my life won’t have been in vain.”
She returned his gaze with dismay, lamenting the tenderness she suddenly felt for him. His rare vulnerability touched her more than any seductive charm could have done.
“Lucian…” she murmured, not certain she should encourage this intimate discussion or divulge her own secrets. Should she explain that she understood? That she harbored similar fears? That she had always dreaded dying alone, unloved, because of the curse?
His fierce hold on her loosened. Drawing away slightly, he lifted a strand of her hair from her breast and rubbed it between his fingertips. “It was arrogant of me to think you would want to bear my son. Small wonder that you opposed my suit.”
Brynn shut her eyes, wishing she could deny the sudden flood of emotion that welled up in her. “Perhaps it was arrogant,” she said at last, “that you thought to purchase me as your broodmare. But the prospect of bearing your son wasn’t why I opposed you. I simply didn’t want a husband.”
His gaze searched her face. “You don’t consider having my child repugnant?”
“No. I wouldn’t mind having a child, not at all… although… I suppose my reasons might be selfish.”
“How could having a child be selfish?”
Brynn looked away, grappling with her own misgivings. This quiet night seemed a time for sharing secrets; revelations of the heart came more easily in the dark, with only the glow of a candle to illuminate the intensity of Lucian’s expression. But confidences were less dangerous without having to meet his intimate, penetrating gaze.
“A child would ease the loneliness,” she said at last.
“Loneliness?” he asked softly.
“The loneliness I’ve always lived with. I don’t think you would understand.”
He put a finger under her chin, compelling her to look at him. “I understand loneliness, Brynn.”
“Do you?” She gave him a doubtful frown. “How can someone who has led such a privileged life know what loneliness is? You have countless friends.”
“Not close friends. Being surrounded by sycophants doesn’t qualify. I can count on one hand the people I truly care about. I’ve felt alone most of my life.”
She lowered her gaze. “It still isn’t the same. You are able to choose the people you love. I am afraid to be near any man, to smile or talk or offer friendship, for fear of killing him.”
Lucian reached up to brush her cheek with a tender forefinger. Brynn winced at his gentleness, finding the intimacy of this moment excruciatingly painful. Until Lucian, she had never shared her deepest secret with anyone, not even her family. Only her mother would have understood the depth of the anguish the curse had caused her: the fear of destroying someone she loved.
“Brynn…” His voice dropped. “You just told me I should forgive myself for Giles’s death. Well, you will have to do the same-forgive yourself for James’s death.”
“That is different.”
“Certainly it is. You don’t have his blood on your hands. You were in no way responsible for his drowning.”
She stared at Lucian a long moment, struggling with her own inner demons.
“As for loneliness…” he said finally, his voice a whisper of velvet. “You needn’t feel alone any longer. We can console each other… drive away the loneliness together.”
Her throat tightened, leaving her unable to answer.
“I realize this marriage hasn’t been pleasant for you,” Lucian murmured. “Nor is it what I intended. I should never have left you alone so much of the time. I’ve been unforgivably cold… Concerned with my own wants, my own needs.” He gave a low laugh. “How is that for selfishness?”
Swallowing thickly, Brynn shook her head. “That wasn’t selfishness. You wanted a son.”
“But I could have been more considerate of your happiness. I am sorry, Brynn, for the way I treated you. I want you to be happy… Or if not happy, then at least content.”
His apology shredded her resolve to resist him. When he brushed her lower lip with his thumb, her breath faltered.
“We made such a poor beginning, Brynn, but it isn’t too late to start anew, is it? Our union can be more than a cold-blooded arrangement. We could have a real marriage rather than a battleground. I could be your husband in truth.”