His eyes hardened, voice dropping lower. “I was horrified. Disgusted by her very presence. I turned from her. But my father heard enough. He walked in, saw her reaching for me. His rage was like fire, even as weak as he had become. He struck her. She fell, struck her head, and never rose again. The shock of it seized his failing heart, and he also died before my eyes.”
Elspeth’s stomach lurched. She could feel the weight of his horror, the way his body still trembled from the memory. His eyes, blue meeting her green, were wet with torment he rarely allowed anyone to see.
“It was an accident. Truly, it was. My father, as cruel as he could be, would never have harmed her deliberately. But there she was, dead. And he…”
Elspeth watched him, her heart aching with a pain that felt too big for her chest. She could not imagine the pain of everything he had been through. Tears streamed down her cheeks.
“Oh, Hugo,” was all she could whisper, the words a gentle caress in the heavy night air.
“I knew the truth could never be told,” Hugo continued. “No one would believe me innocent. The duchy would be dragged through the mire. So I buried it. I bribed the physician to speak of a fever that took them both. I swore the servants to silence. And I have carried that night in my breast ever since.”
He swallowed hard, the muscles in his jaw working.
“And the duchy… Heavens. When I inherited it, it was in absolute shambles. My father had let everything fall apart—all forher,” he gritted bitterly, “It took me years, Elspeth. Years of working myself to the bone to rebuild. To make sure no one could ever say I was weak or foolish. And I swore to myself that I would never be in a position to lose control again. Never to feel that kind of desperate rage. Never to love anyone enough to let them shatter me.”
“Oh, Hugo,” Elspeth breathed. She took his hand into her own and held it to her cheek.
He finally looked her in the eye. “Now you know what my bloodline breeds. What I am. A cold, controlling tyrant of a man who cannot stand to be vulnerable, or even tolerable on most days.”
She took his other hand and lowered both to her lap. They were strong, calloused hands. She knew it was the result of fencing and other forms of exercise. Yet, at that moment, they felt fragile in her lap.
“That isnae what I see,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “I see a man who was hurt. Profoundly. A man who has been carryin’ a burden all his life that no one should ever have to carry alone. A man who is strong enough to finally tell the truth. That is not coldness, Hugo. That is courage.”
“I…” he trailed off.
She squeezed his hands, her tears falling onto their entwined fingers. “And I daenae believe for a second that ye cannae feel again. Whether or nae ye realize it, ye already do. And it isnae a weakness. It is the most wonderful, terrifyin’, beautiful thing in the world.”
She reached up, her fingers tracing the line of his beaded jaw, then cupping his cheek.
“Oh, Hugo,” she whispered. “Whatever will I do with ye?”
“I think the better question is, what will I do with you, dear Elspeth?”
Hugo leaned in slowly, carefully, as though she were a skittish creature he dared not startle. His hands slipped free of hers,rising to cradle her face. His thumb traced the delicate line of her cheek, the touch so gentle that it sent a shiver through her.
She melted into the warmth of his palm. Then, lowering his head, he brushed his mouth over hers in the barest whisper of a kiss—soft, searching, a question rather than a claim. His tongue grazed her lips in a tentative caress, coaxing rather than demanding.
“Ye’ll come up with somethin’, I reckon,” Elspeth murmured as she brought her mouth to his ear. “Why nae show me?”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Her hands rose to his shoulders, and she held on as if she were a shipwreck survivor clinging to a piece of driftwood. He scooped her up effortlessly into his arms, cradling her against his hard chest.
She kissed him, pouring all of her pain, sorrow, and longing in an attack on his lips. She pushed her tongue into his warm mouth, exploring him with each lick, savoring the taste of brandy and something that was uniquely him.
She was intoxicated by him.
She knew that their shared suffering was a physical thing, something that connected them in a way nothing else ever could. They were tethered. They were kindred spirits, connected for a reason she did not know.
All she knew was that she needed him. She neededmore.
“I am sorry,” he whispered in her ear, his voice thick with emotion as he pulled back just enough to look down at her.
“I ken,” she replied, her voice soft. “Me too.”
He kissed her again, a deeper, more lingering kiss as he rubbed his nose against hers.
“I was half-mad with fury when you left me tonight,” he growled against her lips, his breath hot, his voice quivering with restraint. “You drive me to the edge, Elspeth. I burn for you. I cannot think, cannot breathe for wanting you. You undo me.”
