Never A Duke (Dukes' Club Book 11) Page 15

  “Do you?” she said. “It’s so beautiful.”

  “Yes.” He swallowed, his face darkening. “But it’s oppressive too, the way the trees bear down on one. It’s almost like a prison.”

  “A prison?” she queried, her heart beginning to beat faster. Something was amiss. She could feel it in his presence.

  They’d gone from jolliness to seriousness with far too quick a pace.

  As he kept walking farther into the woods, she realized that he was being pulled as towards something. Just like a compass, spinning around, looking for north. Only this time, he was not being pulled towards her. . . But away.

  “Lock, are you unwell?” she asked, feeling something strange deep within her. Fear. She felt fear. “Perhaps we should turn back.”

  “No,” he said. “No going back now. I can feel it.”

  His feet were tracing over the ground, his stride quickening. Yet there was a sense of dread about him, and that dread was infectious.

  She began to feel it too, and she longed to turn and run because this was opposite everything that they had felt in the last days together.

  She’d begun to truly care for him. That was immensely clear to her as her senses tuned in to his and she felt the dark wave of pain crash over him.

  It was terrifying the way her heart had opened.

  Now she knew, he was everything that she liked in a person: kind, thoughtful, intelligent.

  Oh, yes, he had a sarcastic, sardonic front, in which he seemed to judge the world, but that was just a crust, an outside shell to protect what she realized was quite gentle inside.

  She’d seen the way he took care of his family and those, like Lady Beatrix, who had seen the horrors of this world. And he obviously loved his mother too, and he’d been so kind to her, showing her all of his boyhood haunts. . . Except the woods and the lake.

  She’d noticed that he’d avoided those two.

  And now, as they walked farther and farther, she had a horrifying feeling that they were about to confront some old ghost.

  With each step, she longed to run because she knew almost indelibly that if they continued, there would be no turning back from this tide of emotion.

  “Let us go back, Lock,” she said suddenly.

  He was silent for a long while then said, “You know, my brother told me about these woods.”

  “Jack?” she queried, her gaze darting to him and then to the choking crowd of ancient forest.

  “No, not Jack. Charles,” he said tightly.

  “Charles?” she licked her lips, her skin all but tingling with apprehension. The day had started so well. . . “What has he to do with these woods?”

  But of course, it was a silly question. Both Jack and Charles had grown up on this land. Jack had seen the death of his eldest brother. Charles, who seemed significantly more twisted in his emotions than his slightly older twin, had not seen the death of their elder brother, and so she often wondered what had made his mark so painful, but she had not dared to ask.

  As they ventured farther in, her hand in Lock’s, she squeezed it, wishing to give him some strength, wondering what the devil was going on, and then suddenly, he stopped in front of a massive hawthorn tree.

  It was older than the rest, grander than the rest. Its trunk so large that one could have built almost a little house inside of it if they’d chosen to hollow it out.

  He stood in front of it, eyes transfixed, his breath coming slowly.

  “Lock,” she queried. “What is amiss?”

  “This is where it happened,” he said simply.

  “What happened?” she asked, suddenly afraid.

  “Where my life changed entirely.”

  “Did it?” she asked, almost unable to reply.

  “Oh, yes. I didn’t know it at the time, but this is the spot. It is where my life changed forever and where I realized. . . ” His voice strayed off.

  Everything within her told her to run. To avoid this line of conversation. Instead, she swallowed and asked, “Realized what?”

  “That there is a darkness inside me that cannot be tamed, that cannot be trusted.”

  “We all have that, Lock,” she whispered.

  “No,” he said. “This is different. This is not your average, regular sort of melancholy that all men experience. This is something more.”

  “What do you mean?” she prompted.

  Lock’s face shadowed. “Charles saw it.”

  “Charles saw what?” She felt as if the forest was spinning, and she could not make it stop.

  He hesitated. “I shouldn’t tell you.”

  “You should,” she said, “if you wish to. I’ve seen far darker things than most can imagine.”

  He laughed at that. A dry, rough laugh. “Oh, my dearest Calliope, who has seen the darkness of this world, so have I,” he said. “The horrors of people all over the world, the death, the famine, the pain, the fighting, but this is different. This is close to my heart. I know that this is what formed me. It twisted my roots and bent my branches just like the trees above.”

  “Then, tell me,” she said, holding onto his hand. “I wish to know.”

  He stared, his eyes blank before they suddenly filled with agony. “This is where my father came one day with his pistol. He sat himself down at the base of the tree, and Charles saw him. Charles followed him, you know, and watched as my father blew his brains out. He couldn’t bear this world anymore, the loss of his eldest son, and so he took himself from it.”

  Lock’s voice broke, and she longed to embrace him, but knew that if she did, it would break this moment, and that he needed to say what was being said.

  “My father, who loved life, who adored my mother, who adored us children. . .” Lock’s face twisted with pain. “He could never ever recover from the death of my oldest brother. And every day, though he tried so valiantly, he could not face it, and finally, he decided he could no longer try.”

  “Oh, Lock,” she comforted. “I’m so terribly sorry.”

  “Why sorry?” he asked, his eyes trained ahead.

  She pressed her lips together, uncertain of what to say. “Because that must’ve been immensely painful.”

  “It was,” he confessed. “And it is. But whenever I come back to this place, I remember and I feel warned.”

  “Warned?” she echoed, fear consuming her again.

  “Warned that this could happen to me.”

  “Lock,” she said, aghast that he could feel thus.

  “My father. . . He was such a volatile man. Just like me. I am the most like him. I know that if I am not careful, that. . .”

  “Then, be careful,” she said swiftly.

  He shook his head. “I have not been careful with you. You are everything that is rash. I have strayed. . .”

  “Lock, you mustn’t think that way,” she declared. “We are as one together—”

  “And when that ends?” he bit out. “What shall I do?”

  “Lock,” she protested, shocked by what seemed like an irrational outburst. But she knew it was primal and deep. “You needn’t think of that.”

  “The men of my family do not handle pain well,” he growled.

  “There needn’t be pain,” she whispered.

  “There’s always pain, Calliope. Pain is a part of this life. Pain and suffering. It is only what we do with it that matters,” he said.

  “You’re right,” she said, holding onto his hand as if she could hold onto his thoughts. “What we do with it.”

  “My father tried so hard. What if I’m the same?”

  “Lock?” she called.

  He shook his head, and he began backing away. “I’m sorry, Calliope. I need some time to think.”

  “To think?” she repeated. “You told Aston we were just having a merry time. So—”

  He looked at her then, wounded. “Is that what this is to you?” he asked. “A merry time?”

  “Why, yes,” she returned. “Isn’t that what you wish?”

&nbs
p; He nodded, but she felt something wilder, something stronger, something more frightening as she realized it wasn’t what he felt at all.

  “Lock,” she began. “We can discuss this. We can understand each other. Let us come to an understanding.”

  “I think there already is an understanding, Calliope,” he said blankly. “I am just but a passing fancy to you, and you shall return to your ship and think of me no more. But you. . . You are something grander to me.”

  “Lock, you are not a passing fancy,” she said. “Don’t do this.”

  “Do what?” he demanded. “Tell the truth?”

  “Do not run away from this.”

  “I’m not running away,” he bit out. “I am simply seeing what’s on the horizon, and I am making a choice not to hurt myself further. Calliope, this needs to end before I cannot get myself out of it, before I am absolutely broken by it. Coming here has reminded me of that.”

  “You won’t be broken,” she insisted. “I will not break you. Please don’t do this. Please don’t go away.”

  “I must,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Because. . .”

  “Because what?” she begged.

  “Because I’m falling in love with you, Calliope, and you clearly wish to be free. And I can’t make you be anything other than what you are.”

  Her heart thundered in her chest. He was falling in love with her, and yet, he was running from her? It made no sense.

  “Lock, please don’t.” She felt as if she was repeating the same refrain, as if the repetition could make it all cease.

  “I must,” he said. “We both need time to think. You’re a free woman, Calliope. Someone who loves adventure, and I’m someone who loves rules. I cannot bind you, and you must be free. So, I’m letting you go before it is too late.”

  “I don’t want to be let go,” she exclaimed. “Not like this.”

  “You do,” he protested. “You’ve no wish to marry.”

  “My God,” she whispered. “You wish to marry me?”

  He looked away. “You see?” he said. “The astonishment and horror on your face are plain. Let us leave it at this. Let us. . .”

  His voice trailed off as if he could no longer face their affair.

  And with that, he turned and began striding through the forest.

  She knew she should follow him.

  She should chase after him and explain to him that she was too afraid to make such a commitment because she was afraid he would one day leave her just like her father had left her mother.

  And yet, here he was, leaving her.

  She could not move. She felt absolutely stuck.

  Her mouth would not open to speak words.

  Her heart broke anew.

  How could this be happening? How could she not stop him? How could she not proclaim that she, too, was falling in love with him?

  Yet, it was as if hands from the past were reaching out, stopping them both. It was the most horrible, horrifying thing she’d ever felt. She longed to call out to him. And yet, that hand reached out from the past and seemed to place itself over her mouth, stifling anything she might say.

  In her heart of hearts, she knew the same was happening to him.

  His father’s ghostly hand had reached out and called to him, bringing him back to the woods, reminding him of the pain of the past and that he might never be free of it.

  She was no different.

  She was a prisoner of the past too.

  Both of them captives of their fathers, and that was more true than anything she could ever know.

  Even the love she knew she had for him. Even if finding that love was now too late.

  Chapter 18

  In all her life, Calliope had had few regrets.

  It was something that she prided herself on, but now as she sat upon her bunk on the ship, her heart ached with it.

  What the devil had she done?

  She’d never left a place so fast as the estate of her family.

  Adam and Alexander had done everything they could to try to convince her to confess what happened, but she had resisted.

  It was not the time to discuss the painful end of her love affair with Lock. It was none of their business either.

  Though she understood they were her brothers and that they wanted to be there for her, she didn’t know how to tell them what had gone so horribly wrong. She wasn’t ready to admit what had happened or that she’d been thrown over again, just as she knew she’d always be.

  It was why she’d never allowed herself to fall in love.

  The fear of being abandoned had always lingered in her heart. Agonizing tears leaked out of her eyes. She cursed herself and dashed them away.

  Cleo stood watching her, hands propped on her hips. “I cannot bear to see you in such pain.”

  “Well, you must bear it,” Calliope ground out. “Because I am in such pain.”

  Cleo’s jaw tensed, and she swiped her waist-length blonde hair back over her shoulder. “I won’t stand for it, you know? This man is clearly a bounder.”

  “He’s not a bounder. He’s a lovely person,” Calliope insisted, even as she dashed tears from her cheeks. “He just has as many painful memories as we do.”

  Cleo snorted, unswayed. “I don’t think that’s an excuse. He abandoned you.”

  Calliope ground her teeth together. Her sister was correct, of course. That’s exactly what Lock had done. He’d run away just like all men did if they were afraid.

  “Well, yes, he did,” Calliope forced herself to admit. “But I can’t do anything about it.”

  “Can’t you?” Cleo countered. “I’m sure there’s something to be done.” And then her sister frowned. “Do you love him?”

  Calliope braced her head in her hands. “He makes me feel things I’ve never felt before. He’s absolutely infuriating, it’s true, but there’s so much more to him. Goodness, yes. . . Damnation. I’ve fallen in love with him. And it hurts so bloody much.”

  “Is he worth it, then, all this pain?” Cleo asked gently.

  “I don’t know,” Calliope replied, her shoulders sagging. “I already miss him.”

  Calliope lifted her head and faced her sister. “It’s horrifying, and the idea that I might never see him again, it’s impossible, but I think we should set sail immediately.”

  Cleo scowled. “Do you, indeed?”

  She drew in a shuddering breath. “Yes. I think it’s the best thing. Get away, get some salt air into me, and I’ll feel fine within a few days. It’ll be just as it always is. Everything will go away once we’re out on the water, sailing away.”

  “Running away, you mean,” Cleo drawled.

  “No, not running away.” She gestured to the windows of their cabin. “Chasing the wind. That’s what we do, isn’t it? You and I, we’ve always chased the wind, Cleo, and we’ve always found our new horizon.”

  “If that’s what you wish,” Cleo said softly. “But we won’t be able to do it immediately, you know? I have a few things I’ve been waiting for to arrive, and they’ll arrive within two days’ time.” Cleo gently touched Calliope’s shoulder. “And once they’re on the ship, we can go.”

  “I’m not leaving the ship again,” Calliope warned. “I’ve had enough of shore.”

  Cleo smiled ruefully. “I’ll go for you, and I’ll ensure that everything is well. I’m very grateful you went with our brothers to that country house party.”

  “Bloody stupid country house party,” Calliope gritted. “I don’t know why I ever thought it was a good idea.”

  “Because you fancied the idea of having a bit of fun, and getting to know Alexander and Adam better.”

  “I was a fool to think I could have a bit of fun with someone like Captain Eversleigh.”

  “Calliope, you’re not a foolish person,” Cleo said firmly.

  “Apparently, I am,” Calliope protested.

  “Be kinder to yourself,” Cleo insisted, crouching down. “This world is full of difficulty.”

/>   “I know it,” Calliope sighed. “But I don’t like to be the victim of it.”

  Cleo laughed softly. “We are all the victims of life. It is only a matter of time before we suffer. You know that.”

  “That’s a very dark thought,” Calliope replied, her lips trembling irritatingly.

  “It’s dark but true,” Cleo said. “Everything has its season, pain, sorrow, happiness, joy, suffering, birth, death.”

  “Stop being so very wise,” Calliope said. “I don’t like it at this particular moment. I wish to indulge in my sorrow.”

  Cleo nodded then swallowed Calliope up in a warm embrace.

  “Then, I shan’t proselytize,” Cleo said, resting her head upon Calliope’s. “I’ll allow you to be sorrowful for two days more, but then once we’re on the water, you’ll have to pull yourself up by your bootstraps, for it’s a dangerous business being at sea. Your head must be right.”

  Calliope leaned into her sister then said quietly, “I’ll give myself two days, and then I’ll make sure my head is right, as you say. The sea air will make sure it’s right too.”

  Cleo looked into Calliope’s matching eyes. “It will be as it was always meant to be. You and I,” she said, “against the world.”

  Calliope gave a tight nod, but she really wondered if Cleo truly believed that.

  Though they had been together against the world, the two of them, since their mother’s death, they were both independent souls.

  Cleo bore a desire to be alone that Calliope sometimes did not understand, but they were as close as anyone could be, and so perhaps it was true. Perhaps they would be each other’s companions forever.

  It wouldn’t be terrible.

  There would be enough joy every now and then between them. She would just have to never allow herself to fall again. Besides. . . She did not think she could. Her heart was lost. And lost forever.

  She only prayed that this time, she’d learned her lesson well.

  Chapter 19

  Lock felt like death, and it wasn’t because he was ill.

  Bloody hell, he actually wished he was.