Page 77 of To Wed a Wild Scot
Her father’s demands regarding her marriage, the dreadful risk he’d taken with her own and Grace’s happiness—surely none of it mattered now? How could it, compared to all the love he’d given her? Everything he’d done, whether misguided or not, had been done out of love for her. She couldn’t be so wicked as to withhold forgiveness from her dying father.
She laid a hand against his wasted cheek. His skin felt hot and dry to her touch, and her heart gave a miserable throb in her chest. He might slip away without waking, and then he’d never know she was here, that she’d come to him—
“Juliana?”
Juliana started, and blinked the tears from her eyes. She leaned closer to the bed and saw her father’s eyes were open. “Yes, Father. I’m here.” She clasped his hand between both of hers. “I’m right here next to you.”
“I knew you’d come. Always been a good girl…always been so proud of you, Juliana.” His voice was weak, but the ghost of a smile drifted across his cracked lips.
“I know, Father. I know.” Juliana wasn’t certain he could focus on her face, but she forced a smile to her lips.
Her father struggled to inhale few wheezing breaths. “Is Jonathan with you? Jonathan, and Emma?”
Juliana drew in a shuddering breath. Her father had never recovered from the blow of losing his only son. No parent should have to live through losing a child, and Juliana couldn’t bear to speak of it to him now. “Jonathan and Emma…send their love, Father, and promise they’ll see you very soon.”
This soothed him, and his eyes dropped closed. Juliana hung anxiously over the bed, fearing he’d lost consciousness, but after a short time he opened his eyes again, and fixed on Juliana’s face. “You’re married?”
The now-familiar wave of anger and sadness washed over Juliana, but she made herself smile down at him. “Yes. Just as you wished.” She drew Logan forward. “Father, this is my husband, Lo—”
“Fitzwilliam.” Her father reached out a feeble hand to Logan. “Fitzwilliam. Thank God.”
Fitzwilliam?For a second Juliana was confused, but then she realized what had happened. The room was dark, her father’s mind was wandering, and Logan looked so very much like Fitzwilliam it was only natural her father would mistake one for the other.
But it wasn’t just that. Her fatherwantedto believe it was Fitzwilliam standing there. That it was Fitzwilliam she’d married.
“You’ll take care of her, Fitzwilliam. Of her, and Grace.”
Logan shot Juliana a questioning look, as if he were waiting for her to say something. Juliana opened her mouth, but somehow the words froze on her lips. Marriage to Fitzwilliam was the last thing her father would ever ask of her. All he wanted was to know his last living child was safe, that someone he knew and trusted would take care of her.
How could she take that away from him?
When she remained silent, Logan stepped closer to the bed and took her father’s hand. Her father patted it weakly. “Knew you’d be a duchess, Juliana. Duchess of Blackmore.”
Her father’s dearest wish, that she’d become a duchess someday.
It had never been her wish.
A peaceful smile lit her father’s face. He sank against his pillows with a contented sigh, and dear God, he looked so happy, so relieved to know she’d married Fitzwilliam at last.
He’s dying…
“Yes, Father. The Duchess of Blackmore at last, just as you wanted. Fitzwilliam and I are…very happy.”
She couldn’t bear to look at Logan when she said it. She thought of how they’d been this morning—how she’d felt when he’d told her she was beautiful. The soft catch in his voice when he called hermobhean.
My wife…
What a coward she was.
She’d dared to fall in love with him, only to betray him when it mattered most.
Another tear rolled down her cheek. Of all the tears she’d shed, it was the bitterest.
Logan didn’t say a word or withdraw his hand from her father’s, but Juliana sensed his entire body go rigid. The air around him shifted, grew colder.
They didn’t speak again. Juliana remained on the bed with her father, one of his hands clasped between hers, and Logan withdrew, melting into the shadows. Lord Arthur remained by the window, a respectful distance away.
Juliana wasn’t sure how much time passed. It was dark, and the moments both contracted and stretched around them until time no longer made sense.
