Page 75 of 'Til All the Seas Run Dry

“At that time, the aristocracy kept verra conducive hours. Balls and assemblies didnae begin until nine at night. I simply avoided the supper rooms. It was an easy enough excuse to say I had eaten at my private club. Then, dancing and reveling all evening and home just before dawn. My household was staffed by a great number of creatures for whom a person of my kind wasnae such a surprise. They kept my secret, and I paid them well and gave them a safe haven.”

“How did you become a duke then?”

Callum sliced a loaf of crusty, Italian bread and casually said, “I killed one particular duke’s roguish heir and glamoured the duke on his deathbed so he wouldnae ken the difference.”

Jory’s stemless wine glass hit the counter with a sharp thud as she set it down too quickly. “You killed him? You told me you never killed anyone.”

“I never said that.”

“You did! You?—”

“I said I didnae kill anyone who didnae have it coming to them.”

“What?” Jory shouted.

Callum rounded the island and stood before her. “Jory, Jory, mo cridhe. Listen to me. The duke’s son, he… Christ, the things he did. To women. To children. To the members of his staff. He—” Callum swallowed thickly, his eyes dark and angry. “I dinnae want to speak his crimes aloud to you. But trust me when I say that I saved the lives and spirits of dozens—maybe more—by ridding the world of his lecherous carcass.”

Jory heard him. She did. And while she bristled at the casual way he discussed murder, it was also so like him, so damn like him, to protect those who needed a protector. It was what he’d always done.

“Jory,” he whispered, hesitant, “I didnae set out to kill him. But I came upon him—” he swallowed again, a haunted look hollowing his face. “He was careful. He only went after servants. The poor. As a member of the peerage, he’d never face punishment for that. And I—” A breath whooshed out of Callum, and his torso sagged with it. “I had been working on the estate as a night watchman. I stayed in a gamekeeper’s cottage in the woods. But I heard the tales. The stories. And then I saw him. And I?—”

“You stopped him” Jory repeated.

“I stopped him.”

“So why take the dukedom? Was it the money?”

“Nay,” he denied quickly. “I didnae need the money. I took the dukedom so that I could… make amends. I took a large sum of the money and established annuities for the victims and their families. I hired unhireable people. Gave them a place to be safe. I tried to make it right.”

“Are you still a duke then? Is that even still a thing.”

“Aye. That is, it is a thing. But nay, I am nae a duke. Not for a long time. When I could nae pass myself off any longer as a recluse, I faked my death and passed the title onto my predecessor, a young werewolf named George who I knew would do the title credit and live a far less suspicious life span with natural offspring and?—”

He froze and looked quickly at her.

“What?” Jory asked, easing back onto the barstool and reaching for her wine, trying her best to make him feel at ease, to assure him that she wasn’t leaving.

“Do you want children, Jory?”

“Why?”

“Please answer the question.”

“Not particularly. Why?”

“Because I… cannae. When I was turned, it?—”

“Callum?”

He shook his head, looking at the floor. “Aye?”

“If you won’t fuck me until the third date, don’t you think the second date is a little too soon to be talking about babies?”

He snorted and looked up at her through his long, pale lashes.

“Aye.”

“Besides—” she started to say but abruptly clamped her mouth shut. She had been about to say, “Besides, I’m not going to be here long enough for that to even be a concern of yours.” But he’d said that he couldn’t bear to hear that. That he wanted to be her boyfriend for as long as she was here and not think about the end.