by Diana Bold
Ethan lowered his left hand from his aching head, only to find Jessalyn staring at the ugly scar on his wrist. He held his breath for a long moment, dreading her inevitable questions and the lies he’d have to tell to protect what was left of his soul.
When she remained silent, he drained his glass in an effort to find a brief moment of forgetfulness. Not that he expected it to work. Lord knew he'd tried often enough to find liquid oblivion in the jungle.
When he finally gathered himself enough to look in Jessalyn's direction, he found her calmly eating her dinner, not looking at him at all. Frowning, he put down his glass. Perhaps she hadn't seen the scar. Perhaps he'd only imagined that flash of sympathy and horror in her eyes.
He risked another glance in her direction, struck anew by her beauty. Her emerald gown emphasized her golden coloring to perfection. Tendrils of hair framed her lovely face like a priceless work of art.
How could he go through with this farce of a marriage? He would go mad if he spent much time with her, wanting her so much, yet always aware her heart would never be his.
Hell, what was he thinking? The scars on his wrists were all the proof he needed that he wasn’t fit to be any woman's husband.
Before he could think of anything to say that might break the tension, Christian coughed. Covering his mouth with his hand, he waved Jessalyn away when she would have gone to his side.
For several long, agonizing moments, Ethan and Jessalyn were forced to watch Christian battle a terrible enemy that literally stole the breath from his lungs.
Suddenly, nothing else mattered.
Christian was dying. How selfish Ethan felt, to worry that Jessalyn might find out his own dirty little secrets.
"Are you all right?" Ethan asked the moment Christian seemed recovered enough to talk. "Is there anything I can do? Should I get a doctor?"
Christian shook his head, obviously embarrassed. "I'll be fine. Truly. I just need to rest for a bit." He got to his feet. "Please, finish your dinner. I'll see both of you in the morning."
After Christian had taken his leave, Ethan shared a worried glance with Jessalyn. "Bloody hell. I knew he was sick. But it didn't really sink in until this very moment."
Jessalyn nodded. "I know what you mean. He only broke the news to me a few weeks ago. I'm still struggling with it myself."
With a sigh, he sank back in his chair, overwhelmed by weariness. "I don't know if I can do this," he admitted, almost to himself. "I don't know if I can stay here and watch him die."
Jessalyn rose from her chair. To his surprise, she came around to his side and leaned her hip against the table as she peered down into his face. "You really do care for him, don't you?"
Ethan stared at her chest. The deep shadow of her cleavage was so close that if he leaned forward a few inches he could bury his face against her creamy skin and simply breathe her in. The urge to do so, to find some surcease from the demons that haunted him, tempted him beyond reason.
Somehow, he resisted and brought his mind back to the question she'd asked. "He's my best friend. My only friend.”
Jessalyn sighed and gave his shoulder a comforting pat. "You aren't alone in this. I love him, too."
Then she turned and left him alone with his despondent thoughts.
Chapter Five
Ethan stayed up later than usual that night, drinking and staring into the fire in his bedchamber as he tried to come to terms with this new twist of fate. The events of the day had left him shaken. Sleep would surely bring the nightmares that had plagued him since he was a boy.
Of all the things he’d feared awaited him in England, marriage to a beautiful woman hadn’t made the list. But now he couldn’t imagine anything more terrifying.
In theory, this marriage would be nothing more than his name on a piece of paper and a stipend he could easily afford. And perhaps, if it were possible to marry Jessalyn tomorrow and return to Brazil the next day, everything would be fine.
Unfortunately, Christian’s illness prevented Ethan from doing so. He couldn’t walk away from his friend, which meant he couldn’t walk away from Jessalyn. The terrible tragedy they faced would throw them together time and again. And given the undeniable attraction between them, it would be difficult to hold her at arm’s length.
But giving in to his desire would prove disastrous. Not only would any intimacy complicate his future travels, but it would also leave room for any number of unforeseeable disasters. Death and destruction followed hard and fast on his heels. Everyone he’d ever cared about had been stolen away from him by the capricious winds of fate.
In fact, he feared his friendship with Christian might be to blame for the man’s illness. For God’s sake, it wasn’t fair. Neither one of them had yet reached their thirtieth birthday.
He drank the last of his whiskey, then threw the bottle into the grate, feeling a little better when it shattered. He pressed his fingertips to his burning eyes. He had to get some sleep. It had been a long, exhausting day.
Shedding his clothes, he climbed beneath the crisp-smelling sheets and gathered the thick down comforter around him in an effort to thaw the chill from his bones. Sinking into the soft mattress, he reflected upon how long it had been since he’d slept in a clean, comfortable bed.
Jessalyn’s doing, he thought drowsily, touched that she’d gone to so much trouble to make his room presentable, despite the financial hardships that had depleted the household staff. For just a moment, he allowed himself to imagine what it would be like to have a wife in truth.
It was a dangerous dream, given his past. One he’d never allowed himself to dwell upon. But those last few minutes with Jessalyn in the dining room—the concern in her lovely eyes when she’d told him he wasn’t alone—made him wonder how she’d treat a man she loved.
Unfortunately, the sweetness of those thoughts soon segued into his old, familiar nightmare. As soon as he closed his eyes, he was thrown back to that cold winter day when he was twelve years old and the world was still a bright, beautiful place.
The private lake behind Basingstoke Castle sparkled with invitation that crisp January morning. Ethan took a deep breath and let the cold air burn his lungs as he stared out at the smooth sheet of ice covering its entire surface.
He’d waited impatiently for weeks, dying to try out the new skates he and his twin sister, Elizabeth, had received from their parents as a Christmas gift. Unfortunately, their father never let them skate until he deemed the ice thick enough, and the earl had been gone to London for weeks.
Ethan couldn’t wait any longer. Who knew how long their father would be gone? Winter might be over before he got back, and then they’d have to wait until next year.
"Come on, Lizzie," he coaxed as he tossed his sister a pair of the shiny silver skates. "We'll be careful. Father will never know."
“We shouldn’t do this. It looks thin.” She hesitated and stared across the ice, her long, sable hair blowing in the chilly breeze. She was as adventuresome at heart as he, though lately their mother had been trying to turn her into a lady.
"I should have asked Julian," he teased. He'd never gotten along with his brother, who was two years older. "He's not a chicken like you. You're just a silly girl. Why don't you run along and do some needlework?"
Scowling, she grabbed the skates, plopped down on the bank, and threw off her shoes. "I'm not a chicken. I can skate better than Julian any day."
"Prove it." Ethan laughed and glided out onto the ice. He could get her to join him if he goaded her enough. There was nothing she hated more than being left behind because she was a girl.
Lizzie caught up to him in moments and twirled around him with fluid grace, her strokes long and confident. He grinned and started for the far bank. “Race you.”
Her laughter trailed behind him. “Not fair! You’ve got a head start. You cheated.”
He glanced over his shoulder, pleased by his lead. Truth be told, she was a better skater than he, though this year he intended to chang
e that. “Slowpoke.”
He’d made it to the middle of the lake and was racing for the far shore with all his strength when a popping crack, loud as a shotgun blast, shattered the stillness.
Lizzie screamed.
He whirled and watched in horror as she fell. Her arms flailed as she scrambled to find something to hold on to.
“Lizzie!” He skated back to her as fast as his legs would carry him, but he couldn’t reach her in time. She disappeared beneath the jagged, broken pieces of ice.
When he was several yards away, he got down on his hands and knees to better spread his weight and crawled toward the hole as he screamed her name over and over. “Lizzie! Lizzie!”
Finally, she resurfaced and gasped for breath, her eyes wide and terrified. “Help me, Ethan. Help me.”
Leaning forward, he stretched across the treacherous cracks that ringed the hole. “Take my hand. I’ll pull you out.”
Nodding, shivering uncontrollably, she swam toward him. Her icy fingers grasped his, and he pulled with all his might. For a moment, he thought he’d succeeded, but the ice broke beneath her weight as she scrambled to pull herself free.
“Ethan! Don’t let her go. I’m coming.” His oldest brother Nathaniel’s shout was the most welcome sound Ethan had ever heard. Looking up, he saw Nathaniel sliding across the ice toward them.
At sixteen, Nathaniel was big for his age, strong and capable. Ethan had always idolized him.
“Nate,” Lizzie sobbed, her teeth chattering. “I’m so cold.”
“I know you are, sweetie.” Nathaniel gave Ethan a grim look as he stretched out to give Lizzie his hand. “What the hell were you thinking, Ethan? You know you aren’t supposed to be out here.”
“I’m sorry.” Ethan knew there would be hell to pay for this, but he didn’t care as long as Lizzie was safe. He shifted away from the hole to give Nathaniel the room he needed to save the day.
Within moments, Nathaniel had Lizzie halfway up on the ice. She clung to his neck like a limpet, and he murmured softly to soothe her. But then the unthinkable happened. Just when it looked as though everything would be fine, the ice beneath Nathaniel gave way and they both plunged back into the freezing water.
Ethan scrambled farther back from the edge, while the air turned blue with Nathaniel’s curses. Lizzie sobbed uncontrollably, still clinging to Nathaniel’s neck.
Nathaniel made several more attempts to pull them both out, but the ice was too thin to hold either one. Ethan inched closer, determined to help, but Nathaniel waved him away.
“You’re not strong enough. You have to go for help. Run to the stables. Get some of the grooms, some rope, and a horse.”
“All right.” Ethan backed away, unable to tear his gaze from Lizzie’s pale, terrified face. “I’ll be right back. I won’t be long.”
“Hurry.” Nathaniel’s teeth chattered, and his expression was grim. “Lizzie’s already frozen half to death, and I don’t know how much longer I can keep us above water.”
Pausing only long enough to shed his skates, Ethan ran toward the stables. He screamed for help every step of the way. It was less than half a mile, but it seemed to take an eternity. One of the grooms stuck his head out the door when Ethan was still a good hundred yards away and Ethan pointed frantically to the lake.
“Nathaniel… Elizabeth… they fell through the ice.”
Grasping the situation immediately, the man ran back into the barn and returned moments later with several more of the grooms, all mounted. Ethan sank to the ground and gasped for breath as they thundered past him.
Everything would be all right, he convinced himself. His brother and sister would be cold and wet, but they’d be fine.
Climbing back to his feet, he stumbled back toward the lake, determined to be there when the grooms pulled Lizzie out. She’d be cold. He’d give her his overcoat.
But when he finally arrived, he found the grooms standing around the hole, shaking their heads. They were too late. Nathaniel and Elizabeth had vanished beneath the ice forever.
Ethan awoke with a start, drenched with sweat and trembling with emotion.
"I’m sorry, Lizzy," he whispered, bringing a trembling hand to his aching head. Would it never go away? Must he relive the worst day of his life every time he closed his eyes? Hadn't he suffered enough?
Sometimes, he wished his one attempt at self-destruction had succeeded.
Chapter Six
"Basingstoke. Good of you to receive me so early." Christian forced a smile as he shook Julian Tremaine's hand. Ethan’s usually impeccably dressed older brother was still in his shirtsleeves, his dark hair mussed. It was far too early for company.
Christian had arrived at the earl’s London home just after breakfast. He was determined to live up to his end of the bargain they’d struck, even though he still felt like hell from last night’s coughing attack.
"You know you're always welcome here." Julian clasped Christian's hand and ushered him into his teak-paneled billiard room. "It's good to see you."
Visible excitement hummed beneath Julian's outward calm as he strode to a sideboard and poured them both a drink. Though they'd been friends for years, this was only the second time Christian had ever visited the earl. The first had been when Christian enlisted Julian’s help to bring Ethan home.
Julian undoubtedly understood the significance of the fact that Christian had come here today.
Christian sank into the leather chair in front of the fireplace and took a few shallow breaths as the familiar ache built in his lungs. Bloody hell. He hoped he could get through this without humiliating himself.
He accepted the drink Julian offered and grimaced as the Irish whiskey worked its numbing magic. "Thanks." He hated the sympathy in Julian's dark eyes and wished he were still the other man’s equal, instead of someone to be pitied.
Julian waved a negligent hand and turned toward the billiard table. Picking up an ivory cue stick, he took an idle shot, continuing a solitary game that had obviously been in progress when Christian arrived.
A few strained moments passed before Julian gave up the pretense. "Have you heard from Ethan?"
“Even better.” Christian smiled and relaxed farther into the chair. “He arrived upon my doorstep yesterday afternoon."
Julian straightened and let his cue stick fall to the table with a clatter. "He's here? In London?"
Christian nodded in guilty satisfaction. "I knew he'd come if you asked."
Julian frowned and took the chair across from Christian's. "He arrived upon your doorstep, not mine, which leads me to believe it was my postscript, not my apology, which brought him home.”
Undoubtedly. Christian looked away, unable to meet Julian's piercing gaze. He would never forgive himself for plotting Ethan's return in such an underhanded manner.
Julian sighed and sank back in his chair. "Forgive me if this offends you, but there's something I must ask."
Christian took a deep sip of whiskey to cover his unease. "Ask me whatever you wish. I'm not easily offended."
Julian raked a hand through his unruly black hair. "Are you and my brother lovers?"
Aghast, Christian stared at Julian. He’d been so careful to be discreet. But he should have known a man like Basingstoke would make it a priority to know the dirty little secrets of everyone around him.
His first impulse was to deny everything. After all, he'd been denying his sexuality his entire life. But with so little time left, he wanted to tell the truth for once.
"There's nothing I'd like more." All the dignity he could muster went into the admission. "But I fear that if I even suggested such a thing to Ethan, it would destroy our friendship forever."
Unmistakable relief flooded Julian's chiseled features. "Forgive me. I had no right to pry."
"It doesn't signify." Christian shrugged. "You've nothing to worry about. I'd wager my last dollar Ethan's thoughts have never once drifted in that direction."
It was the great tragedy of Christ
ian's life.
Julian looked away. "He doesn't know how you feel?"
Christian shook his head and finished off his drink. "No. And I'd like to keep it that way. Especially given the fact that Ethan will soon be marrying my sister."
"Your sister?" Julian gave Christian an incredulous look. "The one everyone has been talking about of late?"
“Yes, my sister Jessalyn.” Christian had expected this response, but he wished those who whispered behind his sister’s back truly knew her. If they could see what an incredible woman she’d become, despite her indiscretions, they could never think badly of her. “She made a mistake. Surely you can understand what it’s like to do something you regret?”
“Is this why you were so anxious for Ethan to return?” Apparently still not satisfied, Julian frowned. "So he could rescue your sister? He’ll be furious when he finds out I had a hand in this."
"I knew Ethan would take care of her. They've known each other since we were children. Ethan used to spend holidays with my family, since he wasn't welcome at home."
Julian winced and tapped his fingertips on the arm of the chair. "How can you saddle him with such a burden, caring for him as you do?"
“I’m doing this because I care so much I want to see him happy. Even as a child, Jessalyn could reach him in ways I couldn’t. He’ll open his heart to her. He won’t be able to help himself.”
“You’re certain of this?” Julian shook his head. “What if you’re wrong? You could consign them both to a lifetime of misery.”
Christian gave a wry laugh, unwilling to admit he might be wrong. He knew his friend. He knew his sister. Sparks already flew between them. No matter how much it hurt to watch Ethan fall in love with Jessalyn, he knew it was inevitable. “They’re already miserable. At least this way, they’ll be miserable together.”
* * * * *
Ethan's nightmares kept him up most of the night, but he finally fell into a restless sleep near dawn. Noon had come and gone before he woke again. When he ventured downstairs, he discovered Christian had left hours earlier.