Lyon's Gate (Sherbrooke Brides 9)

“Yes, certainly. About what exactly?”

Douglas said, “That’s all right. Don’t tease yourself any more about it. Truth is, I’ve lived every day for the past five years worrying about you. I can still feel the wet of your blood against my palm. There was so much blood, Jason, and it was you who were bleeding—my son, who was a damned hero. I remember exactly how I felt, how all of us felt, when you were so ill, when we listened to your every breath, praying it wouldn’t be your last. That sort of fear is corrosive, it burns into your gut and your heart.” Douglas paused a moment, then said quietly, “You weren’t the only one to suffer, Jason. Corrie killed two people. It’s a tremendous burden she must carry the rest of her life, even though she would never regret what she did. She still has occasional nightmares. We, all of us, live with the past, Jason, you more than any of us. Perhaps it’s time all of us consigned that wretched time to the ether. It’s time we all let it go.”

“I can’t,” Jason said, then paused. “Hallie said once that the only good she ever saw in remembering a painful event was that it might keep you from doing the same stupid thing again. But it’s so much more than that. Damnation—nightmares? I’m very sorry about that. Poor Corrie, in addition to being a fool, I’m selfish. I didn’t consider anyone except myself. Oh hell.”

James said, “I say thank God for the passage of time. It blurs things, and you begin to realize how very lucky we all are, how very blessed. We all survived. We’re here drinking brandy now, aren’t we?”

“But I was to blame, I—”

Douglas said, “Tomorrow I will ride to Lyon’s Gate and inform Hallie she isn’t to treat you so badly again, that she is to comfort you, help you endure your lifelong misery. She is to stop being coldhearted.”

Jason said, “It’s not that she’s coldhearted. It’s that what happened—it’s so damned deep inside me that I’ll never be free of it. I accept that. She must accept it too, she must.”

“I will set her straight,” Douglas said. “Trust me, Jason.”

“No, please, Father, don’t say anything to her. I must go now, I’ve kept you too long as it is.”

“One more thing, Jason,” his father said. Jason slowly turned. “Never forget that I love you, that I’ve loved you since you were in your mother’s womb and I splayed my palm over her belly and felt the two of you trying to kick off my hand. When you came yelling your head off into the world, I believed there could be nothing sweeter in life. However, truth be told, at this moment, Jason, I’d like to kick you across the room.”

Jason nearly fell over. “I don’t understand.”

“You don’t?” James shook his head at his brother. “You said you left Lyon’s Gate because Hallie was making fun of you. Do you mean she can’t understand why, after five years, you’re still wanting to drown yourself in guilt?”

“The way you’re saying it doesn’t sound reasonable, James. Surely you must understand that—” He fell silent because he couldn’t find the words to say.

“Yes, we do understand,” his father said. “I think that after what happened five years ago, you desperately wanted to free all of us from your pain. You saw leaving England to be the answer. You thought we’d forget you, perhaps? That when we spoke of your triumphs in Baltimore, we’d not also remember you lying in bed with the physician digging that bloody bullet out of your shoulder, not remember that you nearly died? You are a blockhead, Jason.”

“But I was the one who—”

Douglas said, “It has always amazed me how you so eagerly gave yourself all the credit for bringing about that particular tragedy. You were nothing more than a young man who held honor dear, who loved his family, who faced evil and didn’t recognize it. And why should you? None of us had ever before been thrown into evil such as those three offered up. You ran away, Jason. I wish you had not, it nearly broke your brother, leaving him to deal with a new wife who’d had to kill two people, and every day face a mother and a father who would gladly have given their own lives for yours.

“And you survived, Jason. I believe you’ve survived fairly well. And now you have a wife who, if I’m not mistaken, would also give her life for you. Go home, Jason. Go face yourself

, and the past, and think about your present and future. Both look remarkably fine to me. Oh yes, I got a letter from James Wyndham. He and his family will be here in three weeks and they’re bringing you a thoroughbred you trained yourself for a wedding present.”

“Which one?”

“I believe James Wyndham said his name is Eclipse, after our own very famous Eclipse.”

Jason said absently, “Eclipse never lost a race. He was amazing. Stubbs painted him.”

“Yes,” Douglas said. “All right. James Wyndham said his little girl Alice named him.”

“Yes,” Jason said, “yes, she did.” He walked to his brother and hugged him tightly. Then he stood a moment, looking at his father from a distance of six feet. He felt tears rise in his throat. “Papa, I—”

“Uncle Jason!”

“Uncle Jason!”

Two small boys, their white nightshirts flapping around their ankles, burst into the room, arms raised.

Jason stared down at the two beloved little boys. Life always moved on. Even as he gathered up both of them tightly against him, the tears dried in his eyes and in his heart. “What are you two devils doing awake this late?”

Everett gave him a wet kiss on the neck. Douglas was squeezing his neck so hard he nearly broke it. “We heard Mama arguing with herself.”

Jason nodded. “That would arouse my curiosity as well. Ah, Mother, you’re awake too?”

Alex came over to peel one of the boys off Jason’s shoulder. “I’m here to rescue you. No, Everett, no waltzing tonight. It’s time for the two of you to get back into bed.”