Page 49 of Taken By the Broken Duke
Horatio held her tightly, not wanting to be reminded of the prospect of her early demise.
“I will not pretend that it will not happen. That will serve neither of us,” she murmured brokenly.
“Then let us not pretend. Is there really no cure?” he asked.
“None…”
“I cannot believe that. I have resources that your father will not have had. There must be something that can be done,” he pressed with determination.
Juliet looked into his eyes, searching for the truth. Could she trust him? Did he mean to stay by her side beyond the marriageof convenience that he had originally planned? She would not have given herself to him so easily if she had thought their marriage would be a true union. She had believed that they would be parted either by death or the expediency of the moment. The idea that this might be the beginning of a love story left her breathless with anticipation. It was beyond her wildest dreams.
“There is a doctor.Alistair Carmichael. He treated my mother for some time and is the only one who understands the condition and might be able to help.”
“A Scotsman?” Horatio asked, judging by the name.
“I don’t know. He lives in Carlisle,” Juliet said.
“Carlisle?”
Juliet nodded. “If we could go there, then perhaps…”
“Consider it done,” Horatio finished, firmly.
It was beyond all her expectations. Seeing Doctor Carmichael face to face might persuade him to help her. She would at least know, finally, if there was even help to be had. Or if she was doomed to the same sentence as her mother.
Of course, Horatio might have another reason for going to Carlisle. She opened her mouth to ask him about Jane Bonel but her courage failed her. Instead, she put her arms about hisshoulders and told herself that he would not have made love to her if he loved another woman.
“We will go there and we will have answers from this doctor,” Horatio said, holding her semi-naked body tightly against his own.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The storm had passed, but the rain lingered, drumming against the fractured roof of the ancient church and spilling through its empty, shattered windows. Juliet tended the fire, finding ample dry wood amid the sheltered corners of the ruin. Barefoot and clad only in her shift, she glided through the dim space, acutely aware of Horatio's gaze tracking her every step. It was a feeling of intense eroticism, being watched by eyes that she knew held desire for her. The feeling of excitement it engendered left her breathless.
Each time she returned, brushing off his attempts to take the task from her, she settled beside him, tucking her legs beneath her. Horatio would then lift his arm and she would smile happily as she snuggled against his broad, muscular body.
“So, what happened to you… after your father disowned you, I mean?” she murmured against his chest, upon returning from one of those trips to the fire. “If it is not too painful to speak of.”
“Itis… but one that I came to terms with long ago,” he smiled bitterly. “At first, it was hellish. I nearly starved after the little money I had ran out. I had no shelter, no skill for surviving the elements. Desperation drove me back to Ravenscourt. I hadn’t eaten in three days and slept wherever I could find cover—hay stacks, under hedges…”
“Were there no friends to take you in?” she asked, her voice soft.
“They ceased to be friends once the scandal broke,” he said flatly. “All of them turned their backs.”
“That is awful,” she whispered. “And all because of me...”
“No,” Horatio said emphatically, his tone brooking no argument. “Because ofme. I chose honor over sense and accepted Marlingford’s challenge. I could have refused—swallowed my pride and worn the name of coward—but I didn’t.”
“But there would have been no duel if I hadn’t lied. I—I should have been stronger.”
Horatio gently reached down and cupped her chin, angling her face up towards his. His lips found hers in a kiss both tender and consuming, silencing her protests. When he finally released her, Juliet gasped for air, her heart thudding in her ribcage.
“Had you acted differently, we might never have met,” he reminded her gently. “And I would have been a very different man. Those years on the road shaped me. I would not change athing. It was a trial sent to make me worthy of my title. Worthy to call myself a man. Do not regret, my sweet.”
Juliet allowed her head to fall back onto his shoulder, putting her arms about him until a wince of pain from him reminded her of his injury.
“Perhapsthatcould be regretted,” he muttered through gritted teeth.
But when she peeked up, she could see that he was smiling.
