The Viscount Who Loved Me (20 page)

He squeezed her hands and nodded, the warmth of his eyes on hers saying more than words ever could.

“You told me not to,” Kate said.

“I was an ass.”

She didn’t argue; a quirk of his lips told her that he noticed her lack of contradiction. After a moment of silence, she said, “You were saying some odd things in the park.”

Anthony’s hand remained in hers, but his body pulled back slightly. “I don’t know what you mean,” he replied.

“I think you do,” she said softly.

Anthony closed his eyes for a moment, then stood, his fingers trailing through her grasp until finally they were no longer touching at all. For so many years he’d been careful to keep his odd convictions to himself. It seemed best. Either people would believe him and then worry or they wouldn’t and then think him insane.

Neither option was particularly appealing.

But now, in the heat of one terrified moment, he’d blurted it out to his wife. He couldn’t even remember exactly what he’d said. But it had been enough to make her curious. And Kate wasn’t the sort to let go of a curiosity. He could practice all the avoidance he wanted, but eventually she’d get it out of him. A more stubborn woman had never been born.

He walked to the window and leaned against the sill, gazing blankly in front of him as if he could actually see the streetscape through the heavy burgundy drapes that had long since been pulled shut. “There is something you should know about me,” he whispered.

She didn’t say anything, but he knew she’d heard. Maybe it was the sound of her changing her position in bed, maybe it was the sheer electricity in the air. But somehow he knew.

He turned around. It would have been easier to speak his words to the curtains, but she deserved better from him. She was sitting up in bed, her leg propped up on pillows, her eyes wide and filled with a heartbreaking mix of curiosity and concern.

“I don’t know how to tell you this without sounding ridiculous,” he said.

“Sometimes the easiest way is just to say it,” she murmured. She patted an empty spot on the bed. “Do you want to sit beside me?”

He shook his head. Proximity would only make it that much more difficult. “Something happened to me when my father died,” he said.

“You were very close to him, weren’t you?”

He nodded. “Closer than I’d ever been to anyone, until I met you.”

Her eyes glistened. “What happened?”

“It was very unexpected,” he said. His voice was flat, as if he were recounting an obscure news item and not the single most disturbing event of his life. “A bee, I told you.”

She nodded.

“Who would have thought a bee could kill a man?” Anthony said with a caustic laugh. “It would have been funny if it weren’t so tragic.”

She didn’t say anything, just looked at him with a sympathy that made his heart break.

“I stayed with him throughout the night,” he continued, turning slightly so that he would not have to look into her eyes. “He was dead, of course, but I needed a little more time. I just sat beside him and watched his face.” Another short burst of angry laughter escaped his lips. “God, what a fool I was. I think I half expected him to open his eyes at any moment.”

“I don’t think that’s foolish,” Kate said softly. “I’ve seen death, too. It’s hard to believe that someone is gone when he looks so normal and at peace.”

“I don’t know when it happened,” Anthony said, “but by morning I was sure.”

“That he was dead?” she asked.

“No,” he said roughly, “that I would be, too.”

He waited for her to comment, he waited for her to cry, to do anything, but she just sat there staring at him with no perceptible change of expression, until finally he had to say, “I’m not as great a man as my father was.”

“He might choose to disagree,” she said quietly.

“Well, he’s not here to do that, is he?” Anthony snapped.

Again, she said nothing. Again, he felt like a heel.

He cursed under his breath and pressed his fingers against his temples. His head was starting to throb. He was starting to feel dizzy, and he realized that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten. “It’s my judgment to make,” he said in a low voice. “You didn’t know him.”

He sagged against a wall with a long, weary exhale, and said, “Just let me tell you. Don’t talk, don’t interrupt, don’t judge. It’s hard enough to get it out as it is. Can you do that for me?”

She nodded.

Anthony took a shaky breath. “My father was the greatest man I’ve ever known. Not a day goes by when I don’t realize that I’m not living up to his standards. I knew that he was everything to which I could aspire. I might not ever match his greatness, but if I could come close I’d be satisfied. That’s all I ever wanted. Just to come close.”

He looked at Kate. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe for reassurance, maybe for sympathy. Maybe just to see her face.

“If there was one thing I knew,” he whispered, somehow finding the courage to keep his eyes focused on hers, “it was that I would never surpass him. Not even in years.”

“What are you trying to tell me?” she whispered.

He shrugged helplessly. “I know it makes no sense. I know I can offer no rational explanation. But since that night when I sat with my father’s dead body, I knew I couldn’t possibly live any longer than he had.”

“I see,” she said quietly.

“Do you?” And then, as if a dam had burst, the words poured forth. It all gushed out of him—why he’d been so dead set against marrying for love, the jealousy he’d felt when he’d realized that she’d managed to fight her demons and win.

He watched as she brought one of her hands to her mouth and bit the end of her thumb. He’d seen her do that before, he realized—whenever she was disturbed or deep in thought.

“How old was your father when he died?” she asked.

“Thirty-eight.”

“How old are you now?”

He looked at her curiously; she knew his age. But he said it anyway. “Twenty-nine.”

“So by your estimation, we have nine years left.”

“At most.”

“And you truly believe this.”

He nodded.

She pursed her lips and let out a long breath through her nose. Finally, after what felt like an endless silence, she looked back up at him with clear, direct eyes, and said, “Well, you’re wrong.”

Oddly enough, the straightforward tone of her voice was rather reassuring. Anthony even felt one corner of his mouth lift up in the palest of smiles. “You think I’m unaware of how ludicrous it all sounds?”

“I don’t think it sounds ludicrous at all. It sounds like a perfectly normal reaction, actually, especially considering how much you adored your father.” She lifted her shoulders in a rather self-aware shrug as her head tipped to the side. “But it’s still wrong.”

Anthony didn’t say anything.

“Your father’s death was an accident,” Kate said. “An accident. A terrible, horrible twist of fate that no one could have predicted.”

Anthony shrugged fatalistically. “I’ll probably go the same way.”

“Oh, for the love of—” Kate managed to bite her tongue a split second before she blasphemed. “Anthony, I could die tomorrow as well. I could have died today when that carriage rolled on top of me.”

He paled. “Don’t ever remind me of that.”

“My mother died when she was my age,” Kate reminded him harshly. “Did you ever think of that? By your laws, I should be dead by my next birthday.”

“Don’t be—”

“Silly?” she finished for him.

Silence reigned for a full minute.

Finally, Anthony said, his voice barely above a whisper, “I don’t know if I can get past this.”

“You don’t have to get past it,” Kate said. She caught her lower lip, which had begun to tremble, between her teeth, and then laid her hand on an empty spot on the bed. “Could you come over here so I can hold your hand?”

Anthony responded instantly; the warmth of her touch
flooded him, seeping through his body until it caressed his very soul. And in that moment he realized that this was about more than love. This woman made him a better person. He’d been good and strong and kind before, but with her at his side, he was something more.

And together they could do anything.

It almost made him think that forty might not be such an impossible dream.

“You don’t have to get past it,” she said again, her words blowing softly between them. “To be honest, I don’t see how you
could
get completely past it until you turn thirty-nine. But what you
can
do”—she gave his hand a squeeze, and Anthony somehow felt even stronger than he had just moments before—“is refuse to allow it to rule your life.”

“I realized that this morning,” he whispered, “when I knew I had to tell you I loved you. But somehow now—now I
know
it.”

She nodded, and he saw that her eyes were filling with tears. “You have to live each hour as if it’s your last,” she said, “and each day as if you were immortal. When my father grew ill, he had so many regrets. There were so many things he wished he’d done, he told me. He’d always assumed he had more time. That’s something I’ve always carried with me. Why on earth do you think I decided to attempt the flute at such an advanced age? Everyone told me I was too old, that to be truly good at it I had to have started as a child. But that’s not the point, really. I don’t need to be truly good. I just need to enjoy it for myself. And I need to know I tried.”

Anthony smiled. She was a terrible flutist. Even Newton couldn’t bear to listen.

“But the opposite is true as well,” Kate added softly. “You can’t shun new challenges or hide yourself from love just because you think you might not be here to carry your dreams to completion. In the end, you’ll have just as many regrets as did my father.”

“I didn’t want to love you,” Anthony whispered. “It was
the one thing I feared above all. I’d grown rather used to my rather odd little outlook on life. Almost comfortable, actually. But love—” His voice caught; the choking sound seemed unmanly, it made him vulnerable. But he didn’t care, because this was Kate.

And it didn’t matter if she saw his deepest fears, because he knew she’d love him no matter what. It was a sublimely freeing feeling.

“I’ve seen true love,” he continued. “I wasn’t the cynical jade society made me out to be. I knew love existed. My mother—my father—” He stopped, sucking in a ragged breath. This was the hardest thing he’d ever done. And yet he knew the words had to be said. He knew, no matter how difficult it was to get them out, that in the end, his heart would soar.

“I was so sure that it was the one thing that could make this…this…I don’t really know what to call it—this knowledge of my own mortality…” He raked his hand through his hair, fighting for words. “Love was the only thing that was going to make that unbearable. How could I love someone, truly and deeply, knowing that it was doomed?”

“But it’s not doomed,” Kate said, squeezing his hand.

“I know. I fell in love with you, and then I knew. Even if I am right, even if I’m fated to live only as long as my father did before me, I’m not doomed.” He leaned forward and brushed a feather-light kiss on her lips. “I have you,” he whispered, “and I’m not going to waste a single moment we have together.”

Kate’s lips spread into a smile. “What does that mean?”

“It means that love isn’t about being afraid that it will all be snatched away. Love’s about finding the one person who makes your heart complete, who makes you a better person than you ever dreamed you could be. It’s about looking in the eyes of your wife and knowing, all the way to your bones, that she’s simply the best person you’ve ever known.”

“Oh, Anthony,” Kate whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks. “That’s how I feel about you.”

“When I thought you’d died—”

“Don’t say it,” she choked out. “You don’t have to relive that.”

“No,” he said. “I do. I have to tell you. It was the first time—even after all these years of expecting my own death—that I truly knew what it meant to die. Because with you gone…there was nothing left for me to live for. I don’t know how my mother did it.”

“She had her children,” Kate said. “She couldn’t leave you.”

“I know,” he whispered, “but the pain she must have endured…”

“I think the human heart must be stronger than we could ever imagine.”

Anthony stared at her for a long moment, his eyes locking with hers until he felt they must be one person. Then, with a shaking hand, he cupped the back of her head and leaned down to kiss her. His lips worshiped hers, offering her every ounce of love and devotion and reverence and prayer that he felt in his soul.

“I love you, Kate,” he whispered, his lips brushing the words against her mouth. “I love you so much.”

She nodded, unable to make a sound.

“And right now I wish…I wish…”

And then the strangest thing happened. Laughter bubbled up inside of him. He was overtaken by the pure joy of the moment, and it was all he could do not to pick her up and twirl her grandly through the air.

“Anthony?” she asked, sounding equal parts confused and amused.

“Do you know what else love means?” he murmured, planting his hands on either side of her body and letting his nose rest against hers.

She shook her head. “I couldn’t possibly even hazard a guess.”

“It means,” he grumbled, “that I’m finding this broken leg of yours a damned nuisance.”

“Not half so much as I, my lord,” she said, casting a rueful glance at her splinted leg.

Anthony frowned. “No vigorous exercise for two months, eh?”

“At least.”

He grinned, and in that moment he looked every inch the rake she’d once accused him of being. “Clearly,” he murmured, “I shall have to be very, very gentle.”

“Tonight?” she croaked.

He shook his head. “Even I haven’t the talent to express myself with
that
light a touch.”

Kate giggled. She couldn’t help herself. She loved this man and he loved her and whether he knew it or not, they were going to grow very, very old together. It was enough to make a girl—even a girl with a broken leg—positively giddy.

“Are you laughing at me?” he queried, one of his brows arching arrogantly as he slid his body into place next to her.