Page 70 of Taken By the Broken Duke
That thought tore at her as though a knife had been plunged into her heart. The pain was visceral. She could not bear the thought of him stricken with grief for her.
“You must live,” she murmured. “When I am gone, you must continue to live your life. Find a way to improve conditions for the poor. Restore your name. Butlive. Andlove. Find someone and love them. Do not waste your days mourning for me—”
“I will not hear this,” Horatio interrupted fiercely, “do not plan my life for me before you have left it. I intend to plan our lives together, and if that must be day by day, then so be it. But I will not prepare myself for when you are no longer here.”
Juliet sat up to look him in the eye. Horatio looked hurt, his high-cheeked, exotic face closed and tight. He was looking out of the window of the coach and Juliet had to gently reach out and turn his face to her. His frosty eyes met her green.
“I cannot bear the thought of you mourning me. We must prepare ourselves, Horatio. I saw how my father was destroyed by my mother’s passing. He refused to accept the inevitable, threw himself into the desperate pursuit of a cure, and when it came—when death claimed her—he was shattered. It crushedhim completely. I will not allow the same thing to happen to you.”
Horatio’s hand cupped her cheek, his touch achingly gentle, the kind of tenderness that made her heart ache. His eyes glistened with unshed tears, the raw emotion in them threatening to break yet refusing to spill.
“If you die, Juliet, I will mourn,” he whispered. “But I will not live my life in fear of death. I will fight for you, for every moment I can have with you. And if—if—I cannot save you, then I will treasure every moment I’ve been given.” He paused, his gaze holding hers like a lifeline. “Do not ask me to prepare for a life without you when I’ve yet to have the joy of living life with you.”
A sob broke free from Juliet’s throat and she buried her face against Horatio’s chest, her arms wrapping tightly around him.
“You did not ask for me to come into your life,” she mumbled brokenly against the fabric of his coat. “It happened because I brought a pet mouse to a ball. Because I swooned and we were found in what seemed a compromising position. None of it was your choice, and now—now, it is unfair that you will be hurt so terribly.”
Horatio pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. “I am not a victim of fate. I saw you and chose to speak to you. Ichoseyou. When I have allowed others to dictate my path, it has brought me nothing but pain and disaster. I chose to allow another's choice to challenge me to force me to a path that led to my being stripped of my title and disowned by my father. I chose whatI thought were the wishes of my ancestors, the demands of my family name to decide my path, and I caused you pain. Finally, I allowed others to have power over me.No more.Ichoose now. I choose life. Life with you. Not sorrow over a death that has not happened yet. I want you to make the same choice. Live, Juliet.”
Juliet clung tighter and tighter to Horatio as she listened. For so long, she had accepted that her fate was that of her mother. She had allowed it to dictate her choices. Marriage could only be for convenience because she would not leave a man she loved as a widower. Now, she saw the choice before her. To continue with the armor of her assumption that the same illness that killed her mother would kill her. The assumption that she could not have the happiness that others took for granted. Or to live. To live with Horatio.
But it was difficult to let go of the hard shell that she had maintained for so long. To let go of the urge she had to protect Horatio.
“When you first claimed that you wanted to marry me in order to prevent the spread of the scandal, I was actually happy. I would be able to pretend to be your wife, in my own mind. To imagine what it would be like to be the Duchess. And when it came to an end, one way or another, there would be no pain for you. You would forget me.”
“I knew from the very beginning that I would not forget you,” Horatio said, simply.
Juliet took a deep breath and made her choice. It hurt because she believed that Horatio would be hurt in time, that he would mourn her. But she wanted every day that she could. Letting go of her armor and shield was difficult. She nodded against Horatio's broad, muscular chest.
“Then we will live. Together. For every moment,” she whispered.
The journey was long, punctuated by rest stops to change the horses. They reached the north of England, passing through Chester, within sight of the dark brooding hills of Wales. They followed the west coast of England with the rolling waters of the Irish Sea beside them, climbing into high moors and through sweeping valleys. The voices changed at the rest stops, the accents strange to Juliet. When they chose places to stop for the night, she and Horatio shared a bed as man and wife.
Juliet wanted the journey to go on forever. She wanted their driver to lose his way, taking them into the highlands of Scotland, through trackless forests and endless days of travel.
Endlessdays andendlessnights. A memory that might last eternally.
Too soon though, the coach was approaching the town of Carlisle. It nestled amid the hills of Cumbria at the end of the ancient wall built by the Romans and still visible amid the hillside meadows.
The coach came to a halt in the yard of a large inn. The sun was weak in a blue sky, unable to effectively combat the wind that reached down from the lonely heights and seemed to cut through her. Horatio helped her down from the coach. She saw in his eyes how much the illness had stamped itself on her.
He frowned, his face creased with worry. She felt translucent, as though there was no substance to fend off the bitter wind. No blood in her veins to give her strength, to give her warmth. As she held onto Horatio's arm, she saw the color of her hand. It was milk white, beyond feminine delicacy. It was the color of a person standing on the edge of death. She forced a smile, trying to show him that she still had strength and vitality. But it was not true.
Horatio guided her inside and to the rooms the innkeeper had arranged for them. The short journey passed by in a blur. Their room had dark timber beams criss crossing the ceiling. A large stone fireplace contained a small, recently laid fire, still licking at the underside of smoldering chunks of wood. A large bed piled with blankets stood opposite a bay window that looked out over a cobbled street.
Juliet lay down on the bed, feeling as though she barely had the strength to lift her legs onto the soft mattress. It embraced her and she sighed in relief. But in moments, a deadly chill swept over her. She began to shiver, muscles cramping from the effort, teeth chattering. Horatio drew bedclothes from beneath her to wrap her up. Then he began stoking the fire. Still, Juliet shivered, barely able to keep her body still long enough to speak. The fire roared high in the fireplace. Sweat stood out on Horatio's forehead.
Finally, he seized a chair that sat in the corner of the room before a bureau. Holding it by its ladder back, he swung it against the wall. It shattered and he picked up an intact leg and snapped it across his knee. Then another. When the chair was broken up to the point where it could fit into the fireplace, he began feeding it to the fire.
Juliet watched sorrowfully, seeing his frantic energy, his fight to keep her alive. She knew it was futile, could sense the end approaching. But, they had shared the journey to this place. Had shared moments of magical passion in the grounds of Ravenscourt. That was something, memories that she would cherish in the time left to her. She reached out to him.
“Horatio,” she murmured weakly.
He turned to her, silent tears flowing freely down reddened eyes.
“If this is the end, I want to spend it with you,” she finished.
The freezing that had seized her was fading. In its place was a terrible feeling of emptiness, as though the very life force was draining from her. Horatio crossed the room to her, looking as though he was a broken man. He climbed onto the bed as she lifted the bedclothes that he had swaddled her in. She nestled against him, feeling safe in his arms. Feelingcontent.
