Page 2 of Duke of Rath

Chastity shook her head. “Only that he trained in the mornings. Not what he did… Dorian, why haven’t you at least bandaged these?”

He swallowed. The wretched truth was he wanted to feel more pain. Every drop could bring him closer to his atonement. “I’m fine.” He tore his hand away from Chastity.

“Let me get the nearest medicine basket,” she said, all business. “My antiseptic… The wounds need to be treated right away, to avoid rot.”

Rot…

Oh yes. He knew how dangerous rot was and what the sight of his blood did to his sister. She’d almost lost him once. That was the reason she had become so invested in medical research.

Lady Buchanan’s eyes filled with tears. “Look at yourself—hiding from your family, punishing your body, isolating yourself. Why are you doing this?”

Dorian met her gaze, his jaw clenched. How could he explain the demons that haunted him? The guilt that gnawed at his soul? “I am content as I am, Aunt,” he ground out. “I have no need for society’s frivolities or familial obligations.”

She shook her head. “My dear boy. You should be embracing the joys of life—finding a loving wife, starting a family, living out your happiest years.”

Dorian turned away, his shoulders tensing. The weight of her words settled heavily upon him. A wife? A family? Happiness? Such things seemed distant and unattainable. How could he, with hands stained by blood and a heart blackened by rage, ever hope to deserve such blessings?

“You know not of what you speak,” he muttered, his tone harsh even to his own ears.

Chastity’s gaze dropped to his gloved hand. “I know you can barely write with your right hand, and yet you keep beating it into bloody pulp? It’s as though you’re punishing yourself for something, brother!”

Dorian’s head snapped up. “Mind your own business, Chastity.”

Tears welled in Chastity’s eyes as she squared her shoulders. No, he was too harsh with her. She didn’t deserve this. His anger melted into a gnawing guilt.

“Do not snap at your sister,” his aunt commanded. “I meant what I said. What you must do is marry. You must father an heir. It’s not just your duty as a duke. It will also be good for you. Love can heal you, nephew. If not your wife’s, then your love for your child.”

He let out a low growl.

“Do not growl,” said his aunt. “You’re not a lion. And you know I’m right.”

“Aunt, I swear⁠—”

“I know I’ve been talking about this for years, but who else would, with both your parents being gone? You know your mama, my dear sister, would say the same were she alive. She would! And your babies will be like my grandbabies.”

He let out a long sigh, making a conscious effort to not growl. “Aunt, I have told you many times, I do not want a wife. I do not want children.”

His aunt stepped forward, making her eyes big and teary like those of an abandoned kitten, and leaned towards him, laying her hand on his shoulder. “A grandniece or -nephew would make me so very happy, dearest. Who knows how many more years I have on this Earth? I’d like to spend them rocking and playing with a grandbaby.”

Goddamn it…

The only way to get to him was to make him feel pity for the woman who was like a mother to him. His own mama had passed away when he was twelve, and he hadn’t seen her for several years before that—his papa had sent her away to “make a man of the future duke and not a soppy, misbehaving brat.”

He owed his humanity—what there was of it—to his aunt.

He would move mountains for these two women.

“I’ll give it my consideration,” he muttered.

His aunt beamed at him. “That’s all I ask. Now, we won’t stop your exercise. Go and ride your hellish steed.”

“What about your hands?” asked Chastity.

“His name is Erebus,” he mumbled, still somewhat speechless at his weakness in the face of his aunt’s emotional manipulation and the irritating feeling of joy at seeing her happiness. “And my hands are fine.”

He hated the look of helpless anguish on his sister’s face as she and his aunt turned and retreated into the house. But he didn’t care about his wounds. If he died of rot, even better. His misery would finally end.

He mounted Erebus, and the groom stepped away. He was grateful to finally be alone, with just his horse and his loyal hound. Dorian clicked his tongue and spurred Erebus, and they flew, with Titan a little behind, his strong legs pumping.